clara/twelve fic: but we’re so happy [2/3]

twelveclara:

Nobody has ever kissed her like this in
her entire life; she swears she’s spent years building up to this,
decades, millenniums. Somewhere, a star is dying and a galaxy is
being born and her head is a black hole; in every other dimension a
version of her stops and takes in a breath, missing something. Lyricists, she thinks, everything they say turns into fucking music. [punk rock au. beginnings and a pulling inevitability. there are things nobody will ever understand, like the way he looks at her when they’re alone, how she speaks with a sound better than any instrument. 15k words. part 1.]

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