A/N: Edgar owned by the almighty God that is Jhonen Vasquez. Scriabin owned by the Queen of slash, Zarla.
'And the award for greatest ass-wipe pussy goes to……..?'
Scriabin looked at Edgar with a kind of malice in his eyes and Edgar just stared at him, that face, that stupid little smirk.
'Shut the fuck up.'
'Wow Edgar, sharp and to the point….you almost look like you mean it!'
Why is he smiling? Why the fuck is he smiling?
'I can hear you, you know,' Scri said impatiently.
'I know you can, why can't you just stay the fuck out of my head and my life?'
'I don't know, you entertain me, oh, and I would be careful, you're starting to yell and you're swearing an awful lot, maybe you should take a nap.'
Edgar could tell that Scri was pleased with his little comment.
'Who the hell do you think you are?' That would have sounded manly and threatening if Edgar's voice hadn't gone up about two octaves.
'I'm Scriabin…' he was smiling again 'and you are?'
All the blood in Edgar's body went straight up to his head.
'You know, I really don't see why you took offence, I said the GREATEST ass-wipe pus…'
That was it, Edgar pushed Scri in the chest making him fall back about two feet and hit the counter, Scri didn't want him to know it actually hurt.
'Honestly Edgar, if you can't play nice with others, then…'
Edgar did it again and it hurt even more this time, the corner of the counter pushed straight into his spine.
Aaarrrggghhh, no, for fuck's sake, don't let him know it hurts.
Scri brought up his right arm to push Edgar but he was too slow.
AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!
The counter pushed in his spine again.
It was probably the wrong thing to be thinking but all that time Scri just kept repeating in his head, What did I ever do to that fucking counter?
Wow, maybe Edgar's not the only one who's crazy…hey, wait a min-
ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!
The bastard did it again………so why aren't I pushing him back……….oh yeah, because it hurts too fucking much!
Anyway, what was I thinking? Oh yeah, can I die?
That's it, I'm fucking sick of this!
'Oh, come on Edgar, do you think now you can stick up for yourself? You pushed me into the counter a few times and suddenly you're not a pussy? Who the fuck do you think YOU are?'
Hold on, wasn't I supposed to apologise there? What the fuck is wrong with me?
'Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhh.'
Oh shit, you've said it out loud now!
Hang on, am I talking to myself? Oh for Christ's sake, why do I stay with Edgar? He's obviously driving me insane…
'You asshole, what are you trying to do to me? You're just so fucking inconsiderate, you know!'
Oh great, you've done it now.
One last push from Edgar and Scri fell backwards over the counter, hitting his head on the opposite corner…
What the fuck is with these corners?
Scri was laid on his back with both legs upright, supported by the counter that had caused him that much pain and blood was seeping from the wound in his head.
Edgar walked round the counter and looked down at Scri…
Yeah, I bet you're fucking pleased with yourself…
Scri's vision clouded, he couldn't see anything, he tried to concentrate on his own feet, but they weren't there, nothing was there, he was just surrounded by nothingness, definite and absolute.
Edgar opened his eyes, trying to remember what ad just happened.
'Pretty nasty dream, huh?'
Edgar sat up and stared at Scriabin, he stared back and smiled, but without any malicious intent, which was what Edgar usually observed in Scri.
'Did you see?' Scri asked, leaning forward now, his eyes pleading, but Edgar didn't know what for.
'Wh-why was I dreaming about……being you?'
'I had to show you and I think you can understand now.' He seemed to be, sort of, happy.
'How come that even when I'm you…it ends up like that? With me lying on the floor, passed out in my own blood? I don't get it, why?' Edgar was pleading now, needing an answer for what seemed like eternal torment.
'You have to see that you're future, fate, whatever you want to call it, it haunts you no matter what in your life you change………..you have to change yourself otherwise you're outgoing to end up on that floor and, who knows? Maybe next time, you won't wake up.'
'You made me dream that, you're a liar, you're doing it on purpose, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!'
'I'm showing you the truth, I'm telling you the tru-'
'NO YOU'RE NOT!' Edgar jumped out from under his covers and went to the door, he walked out, making sure to slam the door right behind him.
Hmmm, I could of sworn he was ready to stop calling you a liar…I'm sorry Scri…
Scri put his head in his hands and sighed.
I'm not gonna give up, I don't care what he says to me…
END
This is my first ever fanfic and is dedicated to Sadie Littlewood, an up and coming artist.
Much love.