WIP Wednesday 21
Feb. 15th, 2023 08:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
between_time_and_42Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Part 2 of Strange Fascination: A Love Story has been posted, and in honor of that, I'm going to post an excerpt from it for WIP Wednesday.
Context: Pink has just had a heart to heart with Ziggy while they're standing on the balcony outside Ziggy's hotel suite after a successful show in NYC (the first show in which Pink felt comfortable enough to play onstage with Ziggy). He's revealed his backstory to Ziggy, and Ziggy has accepted him and comforted him. Therefore, Pink is now curious to see if Ziggy will open up to him in return.
I've realized all my SF: ALS excerpts have been Ziggyfloyd-focused, so maybe the next one I share will feature Rael, or Mylo & Xyloto. Those characters will have a major presence in Part 3, so there will be more moments to share featuring them.
God, I’m glad I didn’t meet him when I was younger. If Pink had met Ziggy back when he’d first gone solo, he would have let him annoy him to the point of pushing him away. Or he would have looked down upon him and refused to associate with him on even a professional level. In every sense of the term, Pink had been an angry young man. But now he wasn’t so young, and he wasn’t as angry, either. Ziggy was right– he did just want to be happy. He’d thought that happiness could only be attained if he locked himself away from the world, where no one could hurt him and he couldn’t hurt anyone. But as dangerous and terrifying as it was to admit… the night’s performance had made him happier than any night spent alone in his hotel room. And it was all thanks to Ziggy, who seemed to have known what was best for Pink before he let himself believe it.
As if on cue, Ziggy’s soft voice stirred the air near Pink’s ear. “Shall we head back inside? I know the Spiders were going—"
“What’s your story?” Pink blurted.
Flustering Ziggy Stardust was a rare occurrence, but there was no mistaking his reaction to Pink’s comment. “Oh, er—" He cleared his throat and rapped his fingers against the balcony’s railing, taking a moment to find the right words. Pink found himself leaning in, his intrigue growing. Was Ziggy about to finally reveal where he had come from and why he’d decided to become a musician?
However, Ziggy just shook his head, chuckled self-consciously, and said, “I’d tell you, but you’d never believe me.”
A hard, hot sensation settled in Pink’s chest. Okay, fine, talking about himself had been no picnic, and Ziggy had no obligation to share anything about himself that he didn’t want to. But at the same time… Pink had trusted him enough to open up to him. Couldn’t Ziggy do the same for him? Surely there was nothing that Ziggy had done in his life that came anywhere close to topping the skeletons in Pink’s closet.
He met Ziggy’s gaze with a newfound defiance. “Try me.”
Ziggy grew even more visibly flustered, fidgeting with his hands and his cigarette and rapidly shooting a glance towards the skyline, as if he’d rather throw himself over the balcony than answer Pink’s question. The more seconds that passed without an answer, the greater Pink’s curiosity became. What was it that Ziggy was so reluctant to tell him? Didn’t he know that there was nothing he could say that would tear himself down in Pink’s eyes, because no matter what, Pink would still l—
“Well,” Ziggy began, punctuating the word with a cigarette drag. “You know how I’ve joked about being a space alien? I know it sounds like a gimmick. But it’s the truth. I really am from Mars.”
In the imminent wake of Ziggy’s claim, the overwhelming urge to either laugh or cry gripped Pink. He did neither.
“…You little prick.”
Ziggy’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“I’m up here, spilling my guts to you—" Pink knew his words were running together, and his voice was becoming loud enough for those inside the suite to overhear. But he didn’t care. In his mind he was growing, growing, growing, a giant towering over Ziggy. “And all you can do is– is make jokes?!”
The cigarette dropped from Ziggy’s hand. “Floyd, no, I promise you, I—"
“Ziggy!” A voice sounded from the entrance to the balcony. “Ziggy!”
Laying aside- but not forgetting- his anger, Pink turned, along with Ziggy, to see Henry leaning against the doorframe, panting. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his eyes gleamed.
“You’ve got to come down,” he said. “Something’s gone wrong with the tour bus.”
Context: Pink has just had a heart to heart with Ziggy while they're standing on the balcony outside Ziggy's hotel suite after a successful show in NYC (the first show in which Pink felt comfortable enough to play onstage with Ziggy). He's revealed his backstory to Ziggy, and Ziggy has accepted him and comforted him. Therefore, Pink is now curious to see if Ziggy will open up to him in return.
I've realized all my SF: ALS excerpts have been Ziggyfloyd-focused, so maybe the next one I share will feature Rael, or Mylo & Xyloto. Those characters will have a major presence in Part 3, so there will be more moments to share featuring them.
God, I’m glad I didn’t meet him when I was younger. If Pink had met Ziggy back when he’d first gone solo, he would have let him annoy him to the point of pushing him away. Or he would have looked down upon him and refused to associate with him on even a professional level. In every sense of the term, Pink had been an angry young man. But now he wasn’t so young, and he wasn’t as angry, either. Ziggy was right– he did just want to be happy. He’d thought that happiness could only be attained if he locked himself away from the world, where no one could hurt him and he couldn’t hurt anyone. But as dangerous and terrifying as it was to admit… the night’s performance had made him happier than any night spent alone in his hotel room. And it was all thanks to Ziggy, who seemed to have known what was best for Pink before he let himself believe it.
As if on cue, Ziggy’s soft voice stirred the air near Pink’s ear. “Shall we head back inside? I know the Spiders were going—"
“What’s your story?” Pink blurted.
Flustering Ziggy Stardust was a rare occurrence, but there was no mistaking his reaction to Pink’s comment. “Oh, er—" He cleared his throat and rapped his fingers against the balcony’s railing, taking a moment to find the right words. Pink found himself leaning in, his intrigue growing. Was Ziggy about to finally reveal where he had come from and why he’d decided to become a musician?
However, Ziggy just shook his head, chuckled self-consciously, and said, “I’d tell you, but you’d never believe me.”
A hard, hot sensation settled in Pink’s chest. Okay, fine, talking about himself had been no picnic, and Ziggy had no obligation to share anything about himself that he didn’t want to. But at the same time… Pink had trusted him enough to open up to him. Couldn’t Ziggy do the same for him? Surely there was nothing that Ziggy had done in his life that came anywhere close to topping the skeletons in Pink’s closet.
He met Ziggy’s gaze with a newfound defiance. “Try me.”
Ziggy grew even more visibly flustered, fidgeting with his hands and his cigarette and rapidly shooting a glance towards the skyline, as if he’d rather throw himself over the balcony than answer Pink’s question. The more seconds that passed without an answer, the greater Pink’s curiosity became. What was it that Ziggy was so reluctant to tell him? Didn’t he know that there was nothing he could say that would tear himself down in Pink’s eyes, because no matter what, Pink would still l—
“Well,” Ziggy began, punctuating the word with a cigarette drag. “You know how I’ve joked about being a space alien? I know it sounds like a gimmick. But it’s the truth. I really am from Mars.”
In the imminent wake of Ziggy’s claim, the overwhelming urge to either laugh or cry gripped Pink. He did neither.
“…You little prick.”
Ziggy’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“I’m up here, spilling my guts to you—" Pink knew his words were running together, and his voice was becoming loud enough for those inside the suite to overhear. But he didn’t care. In his mind he was growing, growing, growing, a giant towering over Ziggy. “And all you can do is– is make jokes?!”
The cigarette dropped from Ziggy’s hand. “Floyd, no, I promise you, I—"
“Ziggy!” A voice sounded from the entrance to the balcony. “Ziggy!”
Laying aside- but not forgetting- his anger, Pink turned, along with Ziggy, to see Henry leaning against the doorframe, panting. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his eyes gleamed.
“You’ve got to come down,” he said. “Something’s gone wrong with the tour bus.”
