Feeling, White Collar, PG-15
Sep. 12th, 2010 04:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veronicasleepsTitle: Feeling
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
veronicasleeps
Rating: PG-15
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Mozzie
Word count: 200
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for S02E09 Point Blank! Mentions of Character Death,
Summary: Neal can still feel him.
Notes: This was kind of painful to write. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
whitecollar100 Feel free to review.
He lies in Mozzie's bed, on cold sheets and breathes the stale air and looks at the wall over his head. It makes him feel closer to Mozzie, being here.
It's almost like there is an imprint of him in his home, like there's some part of him left behind, and Neal won't leave the room until it's completely faded, until all traces of Moz' have been lost in relentless stride of time. The ancient clock is tick-tock-ticking away, loud and heavy in the silent home.
A little taste of Moz' in the tea that Neal makes in his kitchen, the herbs blending into something chaotic and still in order. So very much like him.
Neal sits at the wooden work desk, the cup of tea in one hand and the other stroking the papers piling on the surface, taking in the sound of Mozzie's quill scratching on parchment, and the smell of ink on thick paper, and he inhales it deeply, the smell and the memory burning in his throat and in his eyes.
Neal is afraid that his tears will wash away the last traces of Moz'; he doesn't cry.
Instead he just sips Mozzie's tea and remembers.
Author:
veronicasleeps Rating: PG-15
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Mozzie
Word count: 200
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for S02E09 Point Blank! Mentions of Character Death,
Summary: Neal can still feel him.
Notes: This was kind of painful to write. Written for
whitecollar100 Feel free to review. He lies in Mozzie's bed, on cold sheets and breathes the stale air and looks at the wall over his head. It makes him feel closer to Mozzie, being here.
It's almost like there is an imprint of him in his home, like there's some part of him left behind, and Neal won't leave the room until it's completely faded, until all traces of Moz' have been lost in relentless stride of time. The ancient clock is tick-tock-ticking away, loud and heavy in the silent home.
A little taste of Moz' in the tea that Neal makes in his kitchen, the herbs blending into something chaotic and still in order. So very much like him.
Neal sits at the wooden work desk, the cup of tea in one hand and the other stroking the papers piling on the surface, taking in the sound of Mozzie's quill scratching on parchment, and the smell of ink on thick paper, and he inhales it deeply, the smell and the memory burning in his throat and in his eyes.
Neal is afraid that his tears will wash away the last traces of Moz'; he doesn't cry.
Instead he just sips Mozzie's tea and remembers.
