So...yes. I know you're confused and after reading this you'll be even more confused. At least I hope I will intrigue you! As I said in the summary, this is a real strange Human!Alex/Infected!Desmond fanfiction, character are kind of "reversed" (got it? ahahah okay sorry) so there's a lot of OOC. Alex is a bartender in discos and Desmond got infected by the Blacklight virus. That's it, I don't want to tell anything else because everything will be explained by the characters during the story, so don't worry about that, you will understand! Hope you will enjoy it.
As always I want to remember you that I'm not english, so if there are some mistakes I'm sorry!
The music was really loud, probably even louder than the other nights, and it made the whole club tremble under the great beat of the song. Nice song actually, Alex thought, as he tapped is feet and lightly swung his hips following the rhythm while he was making a drink for the handsome man in front of him, who was lazily looking around. The guy was definitely good-looking but didn't seem interested at all, so he simply gave him the glass full of alcohol with a wide smile and looked at him while he returned to the dancing floor and began to dance with an apparently drunk chick: he was right, definitely not interested.
He sighed, returning to his succession of mixer, bottles and glasses, without stopping winding his ass side by side and simulating the beat of the song with his voice, which wasn't even perceptible over the high sound of the music. He poured some vodka in a small glass and dropped it down his throat with a sharp movement of the wrist: he winked his eyes at the strong taste and burning sensation of the alcohol but immediately after he felt definitely better. That could have been the fourth glass, he thought, trying to remember how many of them he had drunk during the night. He ran his hand through his dark and messy hair, feeling them tickle his forehead, and sighed again.
The lights went down and the crowd exulted: the top of the night. The most famous and favorite song, a real wild one, resounded in the whole club: the volume was high and people were dancing like crazy. The dark was thick, seeing things was hard and it could only be possible in the short instants of colored light that the strobes shot. Alex leaned his head back, closing his eyes and enjoying the song: he would have begun to dance, had he been alone, he wasn't really good at it and he didn't want people to see, so he just snapped his fingers in time to move something at least.
The song was driving everyone mad when it abruptly lowered to the minimum volume. Completely bewildered, Alex didn't even have the time to think that...he heard it.
"Alex!"
He instantly opened his eyes and straightened his head as he felt his blood freeze in the veins. It was far, really far, but he clearly heard it. He could still hear the song but it was much more low, barely audible over the dull silence that now dominated the surroundings. The world seemed to be in slow motion around the bartender, who tried to understand if he had really heard it or just imagined it.
"ALEX!"
He heard it again, sharply closer, so close that it made him jump on his feet. He looked around, trying to understand where it came from, as he tried to stop his hands from shaking uncontrollably. Breathing became hard as he now felt much more the stagnant air of the dancing floor. He braced himself to the counter and closed his eyes trying to focus and calm himself down. How could that voice know his real name? Did they finally find him? What would have happened then?
-James? Hey man, you look like shit, are you feeling alright?- a man asked with loud voice to be heard, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking it lightly.
Alex opened his eyes again and suddenly the song and the lights were back. He turned towards the voice that called him and found his associate, Gordon. But the thing that captured his attention first was another man, who was sitting right in front of him, dressed in black, his face covered by a hood: he didn't remember he was there before the "accident" and he couldn't even tell when or how he came there. He was holding a glass of amber whiskey and it was still full. Who gave it to him? He hadn't served whiskey to anyone that night...and he was the only bartender there.
However he didn't payed him much attention since he was more concerned in regain his senses completely and breathe properly.
-Yeah, I think.- he quickly answered to Gordon, trying to wash that event away.
He stretched his hands, feeling them irritatingly prickle: his palms were white, sign that he had gripped the marble of the counter definitely too hard.
-You're paler than the cleanest white sheet I've ever seen in my whole life, dude. You sure you don't want a break?- Gordon asked again, worried by his unnatural paleness, he had never ever seen a man go pale like that.
-I'm fine.- Alex sharply cut off as he took another nip of vodka and dropped it down.
He slammed the glass on the counter with such force that he almost broke it into pieces. What the fuck was that? Did he just imagine it all? Damn, when did he last take his pills? He couldn't even remember and...worst thing, he couldn't take it while he was at work: the last time hadn't ended well and the boss had almost fired him because he had been wondering around the whole club like a retard, so confused he had almost begun to rave. The simple thought of doing that again made him sick, so he just decided to hold on and resist the best he could. That couldn't have been so difficult to do.
Well, at first it was easy: thinking of something else, focusing on the music, making (and maybe drinking) cocktails of every kind, at first these things seemed to be enough. But after an hour or so he couldn't stop his thoughts, that invaded his mind like water out of a dam: what if instead that voice was real? And someone actually found him? What if that "someone" was hostile? And he was blocked there without way out? His heart skipped a beat at those thoughts and then began to race furiously, making him pant hard. His whole body began to tremble and his legs struggled to hold his weight: the lack of breath made his sight go blurry and the surroundings around him twist like a bloody roller-coaster. He was seconds away from fainting (or, maybe worse, from freaking out), he knew that, it wasn't the first time. He needed those fucking pills, right then.
-I think your mate is right.- the man dressed in dark was still there, his glass was still full.
That made Alex even more nervous than he already was. His face was still shadowed by his hood and the only thing visible of his face was his mouth, lightly moving as he spoke.
-You should get a break...- the man said again, leaning forward to face the bartender, who was laying against bottle shelves. -...Alex.
He never ran so fast.
Somehow he managed to reach the back-door and get into the staff's locker room, trying his best to remain conscious as the darkness fought hard against his resistance. He breathed hard as he looked for his black jacket, big challenge since his sight went more and more indistinct. When he found it, he frantically ransacked the pockets until his hand drew out a small bottle full of pills. With shaking hands, he opened it and took out a handful of pills, maybe three or four all at once, and swallowed them all. It could have been too late since his body began to go limp and he collapsed on his shaking knees (by that time all his body was trembling), trying his damned best to stay awake, but his brain's commands couldn't reach the destination.
Then blackout was inevitable.