Happy Hannukah...
Dec. 7th, 2004 11:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anotherusedpagePoo, I'm half an hour late. I got distracted by the football, and the first night of Hannukah.
Warnings - m/m angst, canon rather than slash.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Louis watches the candles burn down.
He's not sure why he's lit them, really. It's been such a long time, and he couldn't remember the words to the blessings properly, and when he sang them, his voice cracked.
They hadn't been a big deal in his early childhood. Not these candles. They'd lit them, sung the songs, and put them in the window to burn down, visible to the goy outside but ignored by the family within. The songs had sounded different back then. Somehow, in a Russian accent they meant something different. The candle light had been defiant. Insignificant, but defiant.
Later, when the kids had gotten jealous of Santa's stockings, there had been chocolate coins and fried food and little presents hidden all round the house. They'd started spinning dreidl for real prizes, and the menorah had got bigger and more prominent. Then it had been a big deal. The candles had meant it was ok that there wasn't a christmas tree. The candles had meant that it was ok to be different. The candle flame stopped being a defiance, and started being an acceptance. In America, everyone lived side by side. And Christmas needed a Jewish neighbour.
So a coincidence of the calender had made had Judas Maccabeus the most beloved Jewish hero of all.
Tonight, it's not the Maccabees he's remembering, not the rebels and the heroes and the miraculous oil which kept the eternal flame alight seven days after it ought to have burned down - although that has something to do with it.
He remembers Prior's face, the last few days. The face of a man whose fire had been burning too long. His cheeks were hollow, and his eyes were bright, and Loius had just kept looking at his face because anything else was unbearable.
In the end, he'd just walked out. Like he'd always known he would. Prior had been too far gone to notice or care, but Belize had shot him the dirtiest of looks, and he'd known that he would not be forgiven.
I don't have to be here , he'd felt like shouting. I don't have to be here at all. I tried. I really did. And I didn't have to. He hadn't, because nobody would have cared, and anyway, deep in his heart, he knew that trying wasn't enough. He'd been crying, and he'd remembered what Prior had said about how worthless his tears were, and they'd frozen on his face.
He'd not cried since.
The candles burn steadily, and Loius stares into the flame. He has the urge to run it down his arm, to play out the pain on his body, the way Prior said to, to make it mean something. Come back when the scars are on the outside, Prior had said.
But he's too much of a coward. And there's no way of going back.
Candles mean such a lot of things. Rememberance. Hope. There are so many reasons why he can't light a memorial candle for Prior. He turned away, and now he's forsaken twice over the right he never had in the first place. Mother, brother, spouse or child - that's who keeps the eternal flame alive. And Prior came in from outside. And Louis knows he ought to be dead to the community he was never really a part of in the first place. Prior has no right to a memorial flame, and Louis has no right to the comfort it would bring.
He doesn't know why he lit these candles tonight. But he watches them burn, watches them gutter and falter and keep burning, right down to the stub. The candleflame dances, sends shadows flying accross the room, like beating wings. Prior believed in angels, he remembers, and the thought is comforting.
He doesn't know what the fire might mean, but he knows he will light the candles tomorrow night, too.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Fandom: Angels in America
Disclaimer: They belong to Tony Kushner. And I'm still not making any money from this.
AN: Well, happy Hannukah, folks. Sorry, I seem to have written AIDS related angst again.
It just sorta fitted.
Warnings - m/m angst, canon rather than slash.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Louis watches the candles burn down.
He's not sure why he's lit them, really. It's been such a long time, and he couldn't remember the words to the blessings properly, and when he sang them, his voice cracked.
They hadn't been a big deal in his early childhood. Not these candles. They'd lit them, sung the songs, and put them in the window to burn down, visible to the goy outside but ignored by the family within. The songs had sounded different back then. Somehow, in a Russian accent they meant something different. The candle light had been defiant. Insignificant, but defiant.
Later, when the kids had gotten jealous of Santa's stockings, there had been chocolate coins and fried food and little presents hidden all round the house. They'd started spinning dreidl for real prizes, and the menorah had got bigger and more prominent. Then it had been a big deal. The candles had meant it was ok that there wasn't a christmas tree. The candles had meant that it was ok to be different. The candle flame stopped being a defiance, and started being an acceptance. In America, everyone lived side by side. And Christmas needed a Jewish neighbour.
So a coincidence of the calender had made had Judas Maccabeus the most beloved Jewish hero of all.
Tonight, it's not the Maccabees he's remembering, not the rebels and the heroes and the miraculous oil which kept the eternal flame alight seven days after it ought to have burned down - although that has something to do with it.
He remembers Prior's face, the last few days. The face of a man whose fire had been burning too long. His cheeks were hollow, and his eyes were bright, and Loius had just kept looking at his face because anything else was unbearable.
In the end, he'd just walked out. Like he'd always known he would. Prior had been too far gone to notice or care, but Belize had shot him the dirtiest of looks, and he'd known that he would not be forgiven.
I don't have to be here , he'd felt like shouting. I don't have to be here at all. I tried. I really did. And I didn't have to. He hadn't, because nobody would have cared, and anyway, deep in his heart, he knew that trying wasn't enough. He'd been crying, and he'd remembered what Prior had said about how worthless his tears were, and they'd frozen on his face.
He'd not cried since.
The candles burn steadily, and Loius stares into the flame. He has the urge to run it down his arm, to play out the pain on his body, the way Prior said to, to make it mean something. Come back when the scars are on the outside, Prior had said.
But he's too much of a coward. And there's no way of going back.
Candles mean such a lot of things. Rememberance. Hope. There are so many reasons why he can't light a memorial candle for Prior. He turned away, and now he's forsaken twice over the right he never had in the first place. Mother, brother, spouse or child - that's who keeps the eternal flame alive. And Prior came in from outside. And Louis knows he ought to be dead to the community he was never really a part of in the first place. Prior has no right to a memorial flame, and Louis has no right to the comfort it would bring.
He doesn't know why he lit these candles tonight. But he watches them burn, watches them gutter and falter and keep burning, right down to the stub. The candleflame dances, sends shadows flying accross the room, like beating wings. Prior believed in angels, he remembers, and the thought is comforting.
He doesn't know what the fire might mean, but he knows he will light the candles tomorrow night, too.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Fandom: Angels in America
Disclaimer: They belong to Tony Kushner. And I'm still not making any money from this.
AN: Well, happy Hannukah, folks. Sorry, I seem to have written AIDS related angst again.
It just sorta fitted.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-12-08 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-09 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-08 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-09 04:23 pm (UTC)I'm watching it again with Rosie. This will be my fourth time through.
Has Ed finished watching yet?
no subject
Date: 2004-12-10 09:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-10 01:05 pm (UTC)So unless he had his eyes shut, Ed has seen some of it.
no subject
Date: 2004-12-10 02:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 11:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 11:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 11:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 11:40 am (UTC)It is kinda festive. I mean, it's also about angels and world peace and stuff. But that still doesn't change the fact that at least two of the main characters spend the entire thing dying of AIDS.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 11:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 01:04 am (UTC)