Creep Smoke Just F*** Me
The fourth in a series of disconnected fics, all titles beginning with lyrics from 'Sweet' by RumanaStone. See 'My Tortured Love' for RumanaStone information.
Sorry, this part came before 'Our Love is Phony', but I can't really think of anywhere to go with that fic. It is an AAMRN.
This fic is Neoshippy. That's about all.
A contorted but feminine figure clenches her wrist, the tendons in her pale underarm now visible, shifting under her skin. Her darkened eyes stare wildly at the trail on her inner elbow.
She points the rusted, used syringe, the faintly sweet smell of cannabis and nicotine invading her nostrils, tiring her, and the pounding sounds of the RATM cover band bouncing off her.
A lost, confused and frightened face, unfamiliar to the club, enters the room, shocked by the lack of clothing displayed by the gyrating bodies, by the cloud of cigarette smoke above his head level, and the sheer loudness of the music.
A Rage Against The Machine fan himself, the tunes that he spent his teenage years listening to did not soothe him or bring back any fond memories.
He is looking for someone, someone who always came here. But even with his neck craned and his chocolate eyes open wide, he couldn't make her out amongst the seething mass of moshing teens.
With his back against the wall, he manages to squeeze past some of the more out of it clubbers, soulless black eyes gazing at nothing. His body shudders, he hates what people do to themselves.
It was then that he saw her, his eyes full of confused pity, and hatred.
She was sitting on the dirty concrete floor, her back propped up against the wall, her head jerked sharply upwards so she was staring at the roof. Her arm lies beside her, under side facing the world. Without her gloves on, and at his distance, he can make out the outlines of a trail on her vein.
He moves closer, shocked. The screams of 'Guerilla Radio' fade before they reach his ears. In a room full of souls, there is only him, and her.
A discarded syringe declares her crime, carelessly dropped next to her.
The crowd grows wilder, an accidental slippage by one dancer sending the needle spiraling into the crowd.
Her head whips down, staring straight ahead, as though the loss of her tool has physical affected her.
"Why do you do it, Cass?" Butch asks, hanging his head and kneeling beside her, a hand resting on her shoulder.
She seems to shake herself free of her trance, blinking repeatedly. Her eyes are bloodshot and pupils are eerily large. "What?" she croaks, having trouble focusing on the figure in front of her.
"This," Butch yells over the music, gesturing to a group of dope smokers, then to the empty faces and flying hair of the dancers.
Cassidy, in her position of weakness, has no reply. It is unclear as to whether or not she has even heard him.
Butch looks around. Then he takes action.
He grabs Cassidy roughly by the shoulder, alarmed at the protrusion of her collarbone. He pulls her to her feet, steadying her.
"Fuck off, Butch," she hisses, her eyes shut. Her head lolls to the side.
Butch shoves her forward, into the male toilets, and lets her drop by the sink.
The toilets are deserted, except for them.
Explicit graffiti blares a silent scream at them, a choking sob joining their illegal chorus.
Cassidy's hands clutch at the sink, her cries are greater now.
Butch finds himself crying, tears of disgust, disgust for what his strong partner had become. No longer independent, but a symptom of the addiction that was killing her.
Butch twisted the tarnished metal handle of the tap, cupping his hands and collecting some cool, fresh water…the only thing in the damned building that was not affected by burning lives.
He splashed it onto Cassidy's face, draining away the tears and sweat that had built up.
"What the Hell are you doing Cass? When did you decide to ruin your life?" Butch lamented, his eyes almost bleeding, such was the pain of the sight he was taking in.
"Fuck up!" Cassidy screamed, trying to stand up but her legs collapsed, splaying uselessly beneath her.
"You are so fucking useless!" Butch wailed, barely overcoming the urge to kick her as hard as he could "You can't even stand straight! What the hell are you seeing?"
Cassidy panted, lashing out pathetically at Butch. "Just fuck off will you!" she screamed.
Butch seized her roughly, his hand cupping under her chin, snapping her head to an angle aligned with his. "You are disgusting," he spat viciously "What the hell are you doing? You are fucking your life!"
Cassidy's body spasmed, attempting to break free from Butch's grasp. "This is were I am myself." She said.
"You aren't this weak!" Butch sneered "You are being so fucking stupid!"
Butch threw his hand away, turning his head.
"I have nothing else." Cassidy rasped, her arms wobbling as she used the sink to pull herself up. "If you cared so much…you…you would have come earlier…you know…that…that I c-come here all of the…time…so why didn't you do anything about it?" she spoke, amazingly calm though she was tripped out.
Butch clenched his eyes shut, his fists shaking. "I…I…I never knew…you came home last night still fucking tripping out on whatever shit you are taking…and I…I have to stop you from killing yourself! This is slow death! Look at you, you aren't high! You're fucking wasting away!"
Cassidy started to sob again, falling back to the floor.
Butch's face softened.
Cassidy's face sobered.
"Why don't you let me die then?" Cassidy whispered, staring past him.
Butch wanted to punch her. "I can't."
"Why?"
"You are the one with the fucking problem, so don't do this fucking interrogation shit on me!" Butch screamed.
"Why won't you let me die?" Cassidy repeated bitterly
"I don't know why Cass, but I love you! You are a fucking, self-mutilating bitch and I hate you, but I love you!"
"You can…live with this…on your conscience then…" Cassidy laughed, a gasping, flailing laugh that barely rang out twice before slipping into hacking, dying coughs.
Two spatters of warm, dark red blood hit the floor.
Butch's eyes widened and he rushed forward to hold Cassidy.
Her eyes shut.
"You are too late Butch," she whispered happily.
Her head rolled back and her body relaxed.
Butch shook her, a futile attempt that might have perhaps summoned her back.
It didn't.
Butch held her, the corpse that he loved, but would never know loved him. The corpse he had waited a few minutes too long to save.
His tears were the only memory she had.
His tears were all she ever had.
THE END
Um…I switched form present to past tense back there, don't yell at me. Also by nature I am not a depressing person.
These views are also not my views on drugs. I'm not saying 'yeah, take them' but in my opinion, well, what the hell? I've seen drugs be abused and misused before, and I don't have extreme views either way on them. Whatever floats your boat.
C-ya.
Love from,
Tenshi_Mew2