Sausages, Thin Mints, and Cheesecake
Schuldig stumbled through the doorway of the small bathroom, the world spinning. Good thing he took Ran's advice about seeking refuge with the porcelain god. His head was killing him. He flipped off the light and slumped down against the wall.
// Why is it, when you feel the most sick and are in the most pain, you think of the stupidest things? Thin Mints. Those stupid American cookies Brad brought back that one time. They were sooooo good. And cheesecake. I could seriously go for some cheesecake right now. Oreo fudge. Or maybe strawberry swirl. Or raspberry swirl…ooh. Definitely raspberry swirl. Alcohol… a smoke. Shit, I need a smoke. //
He tried to open his eyes, but it was too painful. He started to reach in his jacket for the pack, but he slumped to the side instead, his head caught at a strange angle in the corner.
// Well this is just pathetic. First I can't kill Somali, and now I can't even light a fucking smoke. You're falling apart, Schu. Literally losing it. I'm going insane. Short trip, right? Ow, shit. Where did this migraine come from? Alright, Schu, don't think about it. Think about something else. Try to relax. //
He rolled onto his back and let his head rest back against the rug, one arm slung out beside the cool porcelain for comfort. He closed his eyes and willed his body to relax, the nausea rolling over him in waves of pain and piercings behind his eyes.
// How did I get into this in the first place? Sex. Sex got me into this. Moira practically threw herself at me, and well, how the hell am I supposed to refuse that?! Especially Moira. Christ, she looked like an animal today. Again. Ugh. The last time she got this way she nearly slit my throat. God I was such an idiot to send her back to Rot. God I was such an idiot to think that Brad would send Joey to Estet. I was an idiot to get involved with Bombay. I was an idiot to get myself that injured by Siberian. Sausages. Fuck. I almost wish he HAD hurt me that much. Maybe then I wouldn't get myself into these messes. Sex gets me into these messes. That's gotta be it. It's gotta be sex. I'll blame it on sex. Damn, I want Ran. Raspberry swirl… Why the hell did he tell him I was scared? I'm not scared, dammit. I'm never scared. Brad knew I wouldn't kill her. He may have said, "Kill Somali," but he sat there and watched his little vision where I didn't. So what was that? A test of loyalty? Fuck. Fuck Brad. Anytime. Fuck Ran. God, I wish… Dammit, Schu, sex is what gets you into these messes.
Where's Bombay? I need cheesecake. I need something. Why won't this fucking pain go away. Somali… are you there? Goddamnit, why don't you talk to me like you talk to him? I want a thin mint. I'm such a fucking child. Argh.. why don't their minds just shut UP! //
Schuldig squeezed his eyes shut, rolling onto his side, only to find himself wedged in an awkward position on the floor. If he lifted his head, it hit the toilet. If he raised his shoulders, they caught on the toilet roll and in the corner. He squirmed, then sighed, flopping back.
// Perfect. Damn, I want some Raspberry Swirl…. //
Schuldig (River)
A random one, since I was about to make myself sick with all the angst I've been writing!
Schuldig stumbled through the doorway of the small bathroom, the world spinning. Good thing he took Ran's advice about seeking refuge with the porcelain god. His head was killing him. He flipped off the light and slumped down against the wall.
// Why is it, when you feel the most sick and are in the most pain, you think of the stupidest things? Thin Mints. Those stupid American cookies Brad brought back that one time. They were sooooo good. And cheesecake. I could seriously go for some cheesecake right now. Oreo fudge. Or maybe strawberry swirl. Or raspberry swirl…ooh. Definitely raspberry swirl. Alcohol… a smoke. Shit, I need a smoke. //
He tried to open his eyes, but it was too painful. He started to reach in his jacket for the pack, but he slumped to the side instead, his head caught at a strange angle in the corner.
// Well this is just pathetic. First I can't kill Somali, and now I can't even light a fucking smoke. You're falling apart, Schu. Literally losing it. I'm going insane. Short trip, right? Ow, shit. Where did this migraine come from? Alright, Schu, don't think about it. Think about something else. Try to relax. //
He rolled onto his back and let his head rest back against the rug, one arm slung out beside the cool porcelain for comfort. He closed his eyes and willed his body to relax, the nausea rolling over him in waves of pain and piercings behind his eyes.
// How did I get into this in the first place? Sex. Sex got me into this. Moira practically threw herself at me, and well, how the hell am I supposed to refuse that?! Especially Moira. Christ, she looked like an animal today. Again. Ugh. The last time she got this way she nearly slit my throat. God I was such an idiot to send her back to Rot. God I was such an idiot to think that Brad would send Joey to Estet. I was an idiot to get involved with Bombay. I was an idiot to get myself that injured by Siberian. Sausages. Fuck. I almost wish he HAD hurt me that much. Maybe then I wouldn't get myself into these messes. Sex gets me into these messes. That's gotta be it. It's gotta be sex. I'll blame it on sex. Damn, I want Ran. Raspberry swirl… Why the hell did he tell him I was scared? I'm not scared, dammit. I'm never scared. Brad knew I wouldn't kill her. He may have said, "Kill Somali," but he sat there and watched his little vision where I didn't. So what was that? A test of loyalty? Fuck. Fuck Brad. Anytime. Fuck Ran. God, I wish… Dammit, Schu, sex is what gets you into these messes.
Where's Bombay? I need cheesecake. I need something. Why won't this fucking pain go away. Somali… are you there? Goddamnit, why don't you talk to me like you talk to him? I want a thin mint. I'm such a fucking child. Argh.. why don't their minds just shut UP! //
Schuldig squeezed his eyes shut, rolling onto his side, only to find himself wedged in an awkward position on the floor. If he lifted his head, it hit the toilet. If he raised his shoulders, they caught on the toilet roll and in the corner. He squirmed, then sighed, flopping back.
// Perfect. Damn, I want some Raspberry Swirl…. //
Schuldig (River)
A random one, since I was about to make myself sick with all the angst I've been writing!