Salutations! I know I should be updating other things, but I've been very depressed as of late. Writing this has helped me to cope, and I wanted to share it with you all. I have fifteen chapters planned, but it'll be sporadic, since my main focus is Sugar Daddy.
I hope you can find it enjoyable ^_^
Act One: Chandelier
One, two, three, one, two, three, drink
One, two, three, one, two, three, drink
One, two, three, one, two, three, drink
Throw 'em back 'til I lose count
I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist
Like it doesn't exist
I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry
I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
But I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight
Help me, I'm holding on for dear life; won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight
On for tonight
Chandelier - Sia
I watch him dance with his friends, his hands alternating between waving in the air and caressing the body nearest to him at that moment. His eyes are glassy with intoxication, and half-lidded with lust, probably the effect of some drug. He grabs a built male with white hair and pierced ears and grinds his ass lewdly into the man's pelvis to the tempo of the EDM song that's currently blasting through the speakers of the club.
He's a regular at this club; he comes with a lot of different people, and he's always the life of the party. I've seen him leave with guys and girls before, but he's never left alone. That isn't really something that's unbelievable though, seeing as he's absolutely stunning. He's got longish vibrant orange hair, a lithe, swimmer-like body, and beautiful big brown eyes that emit so many different emotions it's almost too easy to get lost in them. At least they're that way before he starts drinking.
"Hey, bartender! Do me a favor and keep my friend's glass full, yeah?" a blond calls to me. I purse my lips but nod nonetheless. It's my job after all.
I turn around, pulling down a bottle of the vodka that had previously filled the oranget's glass and refill it.
"Thanks soooo much, gorgeous! We'll leave you a nice big tip, 'kay?" the blond says with a wink before he picks up the drink and takes it to his friend, who is now performing a tonsillectomy on his new friend.
I think that's the sixth time I refilled his glass, but I honestly lost count after four. It's like this every time he comes; technically it's none of my business, but for some reason, I just feel like I should protect him. There has to be a reason that he acts this way; something that he's trying to escape from. I'd like to find out what that reason is.
"Hey, Grimm, can you grab this order and take it to table six?" My co-worker Shuuhei asks, and I nod, taking the large order of nachos and stepping from behind the bar. I make my way through the crowd and to table six, which is occupied by none other than Orange and his friends. They're all completely trashed, his large breasted friend nearly tipping over and out of her seat. I repress the urge to roll my eyes and set the tray down in front of them.
"You all enjoy," I say, as if I'm reading from a script. My eyes lock with Orange's hazy brown ones and I feel myself frown. His white-haired friend is quite handsy, and he kisses the orange-haired male's neck. Through all of that though, he never stops looking at me. It's almost as if he's asking for help; can none of his "friends" see that? Probably not, since they're all in the same boat as he is.
Never breaking eye contact, I give a quick nod before I turn to leave. I hope he understands; if no one else will answer his call, then I will.
"Later!" Shuuhei calls out to me as I lock the door to the club. I wave at him absently as I begin my walk to my apartment. I pull my hood up over my head and put my earbuds in. I can't get that look in Orange's eyes out of my head; I can't figure out what makes him so special to me either. I've been bartending for about three years now, so I've seen my fair share of "party girls", guys too, yet I've never wanted to save someone as bad as I want to save him.
I sigh as I feel a wet droplet drip onto my face. Of course it's raining. How cliché. I round the corner to my house, but before I can get there, movement in the alleyway catches my attention through my peripheral vision. I pull one of my earbuds out and step a little closer to the entrance of the alley.
"N-no, I said I don't wanna," I hear. The voice is definitely male, a smooth tenor that's undeniably attractive. I hear another voice a few seconds later.
"That's not how ya were actin' in the club," the other male says, his voice more gruff than the first. The latter speaks up once more, his speech slurring,
"Said, no y-you fuckin' asshole!" I step into the alley just in time to see the white-haired male from before backhand Orange. The smaller male stumbles but doesn't fall. "You sonuvabitch!"
He swings at the taller male, but he's easily overpowered due to his drunken state. The white-haired man grabs Orange's arm, twisting it and pushing him against the wall. Orange cries out in pain, and I can't just stand by and watch anymore. I have to do something.
"Aye!"
Both sets of eyes turn to me, glossy chocolate brown and angry mustard yellow.
"Who the fuck're you?" The larger one asks, and I smirk.
"The man o' yer dreams," I drawl as I walk closer to them. "But if ya don't getcher hands off'a him, I'ma turn into yer worst nightmare."
"Why dontcha mind yer own business, eh?" White says, tightening his grip on the oranget's arm. The smaller winces and tries to struggle free, but it only earns him a whack to the back of the neck. I conceal my horror as he slumps to the ground. White laughs. "Me an' Ichi were havin' such a good time and ya went an' ruined it."
I shift into a fighter's stance and he laughs louder.
"Oh you tryna go? Aight then, but how's about ya take that hood off so I can see whose face 'm poundin'."
I comply and remove my hood, the rain immediately soaking my hair. The other male's eyes widen in recognition, and I smirk again. I've been told on more than one occasion that I look like I'm nuts when I smirk like this, but it's kinda what I'm going for anyways.
"Like my face, babe?" I taunt, as I start towards him. He frowns and takes a step backwards. There's no doubt in my mind that he knows this isn't going to end well. For him at least. "Whatcha backin' up for? Ya scared?"
"I ain't scared o' shit," he says as he straightens his jacket and glares at me. His feet shuffle forward slowly, contradicting his earlier statement.
All of a sudden he lunges at me, yelling - for what reason, I'll never know. Probably to reassure himself that he's tough. I can feel the whip of air that accompanies the punch he aimed at my face. He missed. The second punch he throws lands on my jaw.
"Not so tough now, are ya?" he asks as I flex my mandibula and straighten up. Cocky bastard. I throw two jabs, each one landing on that arrogant face of his. He tackles me to the ground, throwing misplaced punches at my face, one particularly hard one landing on the ground. I could just hear something crack. I take the opportunity to headbutt him and gain my footing again. His hand is hurt and I can see it, but ask me if I care. It surely doesn't stop me from hitting him in the stomach and knocking him dead in the jaw.
The white haired asshole staggers away, fighting to get his air back. For a moment, he looks like he'll puke, but he manages to straighten up. Pure rage crosses his face.
Oooh, now he's angry.
He charges at me, fists flailing. I'm too ready. I send one fast straight punch to his unprotected jaw and his head whips back, his body arches backward, all of his momentum snaps back on him like a broken rubber band. He lifts right up off his toes, clearing the ground.
For one long moment his body hangs in the air. Then he lands with a thud that can probably be heard a block away.
I sigh as I look down at the other unconscious figure in the alley. I walk over to him and hoist him up onto my shoulder. This isn't exactly how I planned to meet him, but he's with me now nonetheless. He's gonna have one helluva hangover in the morning.
I open my eyes slowly and regret it almost immediately. I can't feel anything. At least this time I'm fully dressed. Though I'm wondering where the hell I am. I sit up, looking around slowly so as not to cause myself to vomit all over whomever's floor this is.
It seems to be a loft, with very modern decorations. Whoever lives in this place has expensive taste; rich people are so lucky. The couch that I'm lying on now is ridiculously comfortable. My other senses are starting to work properly little-by-little; I can hear the faint sound of sizzling and I can smell cooking meat and spices too. Surprisingly my stomach doesn't flip-flop as I stand up from the couch and walk slowly towards the direction of the activities.
I reach the kitchen only to be shocked when I spot a head of vibrant blue hair. I've only ever seen one person with hair that color. Is this his house then? What the hell am I doing here? And why isn't he wearing a shirt?! I can't help but watch the muscles of his back as they flex slightly while he works at the stove. Goodness, it's too early in the morning for this.
"Uh, is that for me?" I ask, quietly, pointing at the pair of ibuprofen and tall glass of water that sit on the counter. The tall male jumps a little before he nods. I pick the pills up and throw them back before gulping down half of the water. "Blechhhh, I hate water," I grumble under my breath.
The blue-haired male chuckles before he turns around. As always, I'm completely mesmerized by his eyes. I'll never admit it out loud though. Instead, I focus on the plate he's holding in his hands. Tacos? I raise an eyebrow.
"Isn't it kind of early for Mexican food?" I ask as he sets the plate down in front of me.
"It's three-fifteen in the afternoon. Shut up and eat the damn food. It'll help with the hangover."
His voice caresses my auditory sensors to the point that I may start purring, though I can't help but be a little peeved at his curt tone. Nevertheless, I pick up one of the tacos and take a hearty bite. Before I realize it, I've wolfed down three of them, and the other male grabs my wrist to stop me from picking up a fourth one.
"If you eat too many, you'll puke and then you won't want to eat them anymore." I pout, but drop the taco back on the plate anyways. I actually do feel a lot better. I can't believe Shinji and I haven't tried this before. I'll have to tell him.
"Do you mind telling me how I got here?" I ask. The bartender gives me an even look before he speaks.
"I found you."
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. I suppose he's a man of few words, but I don't really feel comfortable with being in the dark about something like this. I mean, what if something happened to me?
"Where?"
"In the alley near the club."
"How'd I end up unconscious?"
"I don't know."
I feel like he's lying, but there's no way I'll ever know for sure because I certainly don't remember.
"Alright. Well thank you for the food, um -?"
"You're not leaving," he states evenly. I raise an eyebrow as I sit back down in the chair that I'd stood up from.
"Excuse me?"
"I don't have a speech impediment. I said you're not leaving. No exceptions."
"So you're kidnapping me?" I ask incredulously, resting my cheek on my fist and smirking a bit. This is slightly amusing. Only because he's so handsome though, I'm not going to lie. Anyone else would've had their asses handed to them and their tacos taken from them by now. But I'll definitely humor him, if only to get to keep looking at him.
"I'm not kidnapping you; I'm helping you."
"I didn't ask for your help."
"That's irrelevant. You need my help."
Okay, now I'm pissed the hell off.
"Says whom?"
"You."
"But I just said I didn't ask for your help."
"Has anyone told you that you have very expressive eyes?" By now the bartender's face is mere inches from mine, and I can feel my face heating up from being in such close proximity to such a gorgeous man. Ethereal as he may be, he's still pissing me off. I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Big Blue steps back too, turning toward the stove. He lets out a deep breath as he starts to clean up.
"I've watched you for the past two years since you started coming to the club. You dance, and laugh, and anyone with untrained eyes would think you're having the time of your life. But I can see past your façade. You're not happy, in fact you hate yourself for some reason. That's why you go home with random people and drink to the brink of alcohol poisoning, do drugs and God knows what else."
I'm about to curse him the fuck out. How dare he try to tell me how to live my life? He doesn't even know me! Just as I open my mouth to let loose a barrage of swears, he turns back to face me again, and the look on his face stops me.
Truthfully, the only reason I'm angry is because he's right. I hate myself, and if he knew me, if he really knew me, he'd hate me too. He wants to save me, but I need to save him. I need to save him from me. I force my eyes away from his entrancing gaze and sigh.
"Look, man, this is nice and all, but I really don't need any help. I'm fine. So if you could just let me go -"
My speech is cut short when he grabs my arm and pulls me out of the chair I'm sitting in.
"What the hell are you doing, man?" I yell, as he pulls me towards the living room. He produces a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and he forces me down next to a heating unit. I struggle against him, but he's much stronger than I am, so it's to no avail, as he snaps the handcuffs around my wrist. I tug against the restraints frowning up at my captor. "Just how sick are you?"
"The only person who's sick here is you," he responds. He disappears around a corner and comes back a few minutes later wearing a shirt and a pair of beat-up grey Converse. "I'll be back in a little while."
"You can't just leave me handcuffed to a heater!"
"Can and am," he responds, nonchalantly, as he grabs his keys and wallet and heads out the front door. I yell expletives out after him, even though I know he can't hear me, and tug on the restraints again. After a while, I give up and lean my head against the wall.
A fine mess I've gotten myself into this time.
Thank you all for reading. Please let me know what you think :)
Until next time,
Patd06