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fandomweekly2020-11-02 05:49 pm
peaked) wrote in fandomweekly2020-11-02 05:49 pm
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[#71] CONFETTI (THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE)
Theme Prompt: #71—Skeletons in the Closet.
Title: Confetti.
Fandom: The Haunting of Hill House.
Rating/Warnings: PG / Set post-canon so spoilers. References death and mentions drug use.
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 764.
Summary: Luke visits Nellie.
"They don’t know that you come here, do they?"
Nellie sits in front of him with her legs crossed. She picks at the blades of grass just like he does. Keeping his head bowed, he doesn’t look at her. He’s never needed to lift his head to search for her; his senses and his soul have always been able to sense when she was there.
For the last seven years, it’s been no different to how it was before.
"No," he says quietly. He doesn’t glance up, snaring a blade of grass delicately between his fingers.
Her grave has always been adorned with flowers and teddies and Steve’s stories. Luke had thought as the days went by that they’d stop coming to see her, but his family had surprised him. He’s often come with Theo to hear stories of how good it feels to be beside her tombstone. She feels so much—too much of everything—that Theo’s laughter has become a song he enjoys listening to.
It’s the one thing he’s never needed Theo’s empathetic touch for. He always knew being around Eleanor was good. Nellie was always good. She is good.
"You should tell them," Nellie says. She tilts her head to the side, too far to the right that when he glances up, her skin is a bluey grey and the bone in her neck protrudes from beneath. It’s not a nice look, but she’s seen far worse—him at his worse. He never flinches.
At his silence, she rips some of the grass blades and throws them at him. "What are you so afraid of? Tell them you come here."
He sighs. You can’t hide who you really are from Nellie. He never has. He knows his siblings never have, either. She has this way of crawling under your skin and staying there, like a bed bug.
Luke shakes his head.
"Luke, it’s been seven years. Tell them."
"None of them will understand, Nel. None of them."
When he looks up, her skin is pale and healthy. She looks happy. She smiles at him and the world is bright once more.
"You’ll be surprised, Luke."
"Telling them is…" He lets out a deep sigh and plucks the grass blade from the earth. Twisting it between his fingertips, he crumples it into something nearly unrecognisable, to a ghost of what it once was. Nellie looks the same, even though she’ll never be the same. Neither will he. "It’s hard, Nel."
"I know," she says. When she smiles he smiles and Luke doesn’t look away. "But you should tell them. Telling them is the first step. The rest, well… it’s like confetti."
He lets out a bark of a laugh. "I never should’ve said that to you." Nellie smiles and blushes a nice, lively pink.
"I’m glad you did."
Inhaling deeply through his nose, he swallows thickly. "I don’t know how to tell them, Nel. They’ll just think I’m on something again."
She shakes her head. "No," she says, pinching her lips. He watches her as her hair doesn’t move with the wind. "No one will."
His face pinches. "How do you know?"
"Because I know everything," she says with a laugh. "I’m the twin who knows everything, remember?"
"And I’m the one who knows nothing," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. This is why you weren’t allowed in my treehouse."
Unlike Steve, Nellie doesn’t tell him it wasn’t real. Nellie never tells him nothing is real. This, right now, this belief that she’s here and that they’re Luke and Nellie isn’t real. But Luke wants it to be. He knows what Nellie would say if he told her: it’s real if he wants it to be real, and the rest is just confetti.
She reaches forward and touches him, fingertips ice cold and searing hot all at once. He looks down at her hand as her touch warms his jeans. "I’ll be there with you."
Luke places his hand on top of hers and squeezes hard. Her bones are solid and unbreakable, and he grips her as his lifeline. If he doesn’t let go, then maybe she won’t leave. Maybe, this time, she’ll stay.
When he looks up, Nellie’s gone. He looks around, wondering if she’s lingering, if she’s pretending to be a statue above a grave yet again. But the cemetery is empty save for her tombstone and the grass blades falling from the sky. She must’ve thrown them, just like confetti.
He smiles with a light chuckle. "See you tomorrow, Nel."
Title: Confetti.
Fandom: The Haunting of Hill House.
Rating/Warnings: PG / Set post-canon so spoilers. References death and mentions drug use.
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 764.
Summary: Luke visits Nellie.
"They don’t know that you come here, do they?"
Nellie sits in front of him with her legs crossed. She picks at the blades of grass just like he does. Keeping his head bowed, he doesn’t look at her. He’s never needed to lift his head to search for her; his senses and his soul have always been able to sense when she was there.
For the last seven years, it’s been no different to how it was before.
"No," he says quietly. He doesn’t glance up, snaring a blade of grass delicately between his fingers.
Her grave has always been adorned with flowers and teddies and Steve’s stories. Luke had thought as the days went by that they’d stop coming to see her, but his family had surprised him. He’s often come with Theo to hear stories of how good it feels to be beside her tombstone. She feels so much—too much of everything—that Theo’s laughter has become a song he enjoys listening to.
It’s the one thing he’s never needed Theo’s empathetic touch for. He always knew being around Eleanor was good. Nellie was always good. She is good.
"You should tell them," Nellie says. She tilts her head to the side, too far to the right that when he glances up, her skin is a bluey grey and the bone in her neck protrudes from beneath. It’s not a nice look, but she’s seen far worse—him at his worse. He never flinches.
At his silence, she rips some of the grass blades and throws them at him. "What are you so afraid of? Tell them you come here."
He sighs. You can’t hide who you really are from Nellie. He never has. He knows his siblings never have, either. She has this way of crawling under your skin and staying there, like a bed bug.
Luke shakes his head.
"Luke, it’s been seven years. Tell them."
"None of them will understand, Nel. None of them."
When he looks up, her skin is pale and healthy. She looks happy. She smiles at him and the world is bright once more.
"You’ll be surprised, Luke."
"Telling them is…" He lets out a deep sigh and plucks the grass blade from the earth. Twisting it between his fingertips, he crumples it into something nearly unrecognisable, to a ghost of what it once was. Nellie looks the same, even though she’ll never be the same. Neither will he. "It’s hard, Nel."
"I know," she says. When she smiles he smiles and Luke doesn’t look away. "But you should tell them. Telling them is the first step. The rest, well… it’s like confetti."
He lets out a bark of a laugh. "I never should’ve said that to you." Nellie smiles and blushes a nice, lively pink.
"I’m glad you did."
Inhaling deeply through his nose, he swallows thickly. "I don’t know how to tell them, Nel. They’ll just think I’m on something again."
She shakes her head. "No," she says, pinching her lips. He watches her as her hair doesn’t move with the wind. "No one will."
His face pinches. "How do you know?"
"Because I know everything," she says with a laugh. "I’m the twin who knows everything, remember?"
"And I’m the one who knows nothing," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. This is why you weren’t allowed in my treehouse."
Unlike Steve, Nellie doesn’t tell him it wasn’t real. Nellie never tells him nothing is real. This, right now, this belief that she’s here and that they’re Luke and Nellie isn’t real. But Luke wants it to be. He knows what Nellie would say if he told her: it’s real if he wants it to be real, and the rest is just confetti.
She reaches forward and touches him, fingertips ice cold and searing hot all at once. He looks down at her hand as her touch warms his jeans. "I’ll be there with you."
Luke places his hand on top of hers and squeezes hard. Her bones are solid and unbreakable, and he grips her as his lifeline. If he doesn’t let go, then maybe she won’t leave. Maybe, this time, she’ll stay.
When he looks up, Nellie’s gone. He looks around, wondering if she’s lingering, if she’s pretending to be a statue above a grave yet again. But the cemetery is empty save for her tombstone and the grass blades falling from the sky. She must’ve thrown them, just like confetti.
He smiles with a light chuckle. "See you tomorrow, Nel."
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