#cot3 fic

“They aligned, the three of them. They balanced perfectly. They were the sun and the earth, spinning and spinning, Lockwood dragging them into the dark unknown. And George could be the moon, he mused to himself. He would never tell them, of course, they’d probably laugh him out of Portland Row, but in the liminal space between dusk and sleep, he could imagine it for himself. He was the moon and he’d been lucky enough to eclipse. Nestled right between the two of them, in perfect alignment.

Like this, in some anonymous flat in Rome, Lockwood and Lucy tucked safely around him, George could almost feel it. Maybe they’d beat the odds and find themselves still sitting around the thinking cloth in ten, twenty, thirty years. Maybe they’d make it.