Work Text:
“Okay, okay, read me that part again?”
Rose opened the book to where her finger held her place. ’Scarcely daring to breath, Serafina gazed into her lover’s quavering emerald orbs, and as if looking into a mirror that reflected one’s deepest desires, his gaze beheld her own sapphire pools. They locked eyes—.’”
“Oh, NOW they have eyes.”
“—for several silent minutes—.”
“There. There it is.” John sat up slightly. “Why…why do writers do that? Do they think people can honestly look at each other for that long? For like three or five minutes? How would you not drop dead of boredom.”
“Well John, one must remember that we’re of a different generation from most romance writers. We’ve been essentially raised by the Internet.” She snapped her book shut. “ Our attention spans have been greatly reduced due to the instant nature of all things technological, and due to the technological nature of all things modern, and as suwhat are you doing”
Leaning in slightly, John gave Rose what was obviously supposed to be a piercing stare. It looked like he was slightly constipated. “I’m going to hold your gaze.”
“It feels more like you’re trying to strangle it.”
His lips twitched, then went serious again. “Come on Rose! Lock eyes with me. Entrench me in your lavender…occulatories.”
“That’s not a real…” Rose sighed, smiling slightly, and did as told. “Alright. Considered our gazes locked tighter than Fort Knox.”
Silence. Rose stared at John stared at Rose stared at John. Within a minute's time she began to shift in her seat. It felt vaguely uncomfortable to openly let someone, even a significant other, focus their sights on her so aggressively, to let herself be vunerable, and...
"Are you going cross-eyed too?"
"A bit."
"My eyes feel dry." He blinks several times. "How much time to we have left?"
"'Several minutes,' the book said. 'Several' is quite the helpful word to a writer, an open-ended definition with limitless possibilities, as long as we don't cross the treacherous line of 'many.'"
"Can 'two' be several?"
"Technically."
"Can we cut it off there? I'm getting bored."
"One more minute then."
Silence.
"...John did you not wash your face this morning? I see sand."
"What? Where?"
"Other eye."
"...Did I--"
"Yes."
"Cool, thanks."
Silence.
"..okay, this is stupid."
She sighs, flopping on her back. "Why do we continue to do this? It's more than clear at this point that romantce novels are a genetic dead-end among the literary arts. Bad cliches, idiotic plots, laughable attempts at drama, antediluvian gender dynamics, the same thing, over and over and OVER again...it's not so much a genre as it is a problem that needs to be taken out behind the shed. I can not think of a single thing that could make me even attempt to enjoy another book like this."
Silence, and a soft shift of paper as he rummages through the library-fresh pile. "This one has a pirate and a horse on the cover."
Rose rolls to lay on her stomach, chin atop her hands. "I'm listening."