Title: Moonlight in a Martini Glass
Chapter: 4
Story Notes: Going through some minor revisions. Please see all the chapters. Nothing to major however.
Chapter Notes: This chapter dated when it was written a little bit. lol. I did switch up a few things to stay 'current' a bit longer.
Consciousness was a goal at the surface of the deepest sea. Or so it seemed as the mind swam through a thick haze of disorientation. Fighting through a powerful current of dreams turned bad. Below was nothing but bleak darkness, a void waiting to be filled. Pulling with vengeance all that it could into the bottomless pit. The surface was becoming an impossible goal to reach. Precious oxygen, needed to maintain life, was slowly trickling away. The end of the journey was threatened? Reality seemed to elude him, retreating from an outstretched hand. Fingertips grasping for the light so far above.
A nightmare. He was going to die in a nightmare. Wasn't it said that if you died in your dreams it was an omen that your physical body would follow soon after? Did people really believe that? Maybe the body just shut down because it believed in the myths. It was going to die, so why not just, give up?
Two swift stroked brought him just a bit closer. His fingers could just about touch where the water met the sky. The light intensified, almost blinding now, cascading through the blue in iridescent shafts. Taking on a tangible ideal as it combined with hydrogen and oxygen, the elements that created water.
But strength ebbed, oxygen deprived senses slowly clouding along the edges, dimming his vision. Too long, his lungs burned for that which was lacked. One final push, a desperate attempt to break free from the darkness... Too late, he could feel himself sinking back down. Giving up...
Coughing violently, Quatre was forced out of the quickly failing journey, reality rushing in to take over the dream world. With it came the pain of a throbbing headache; the blood could be felt as it pounded through his temples. Aquamarine eyes pushed against swollen eyelids to open a fraction of an inch. First a dark blob blurred in his wavering vision. Slowly it took the unmistakable shape of a small bookshelf, four lonely books toppled over each other on one of the shelves. A single shaft of light piercing through the darkness from an opening in the window drapes. Cutting a line diagonally across the worn wood and an ugly old lamp sitting on top of it, shaded in a greenish brown colour, a distinctive hue that some would call puke gre-
His stomach, following the trend of thought, decided it was sick of drowning in a sea of unpleasant chemicals. A strategically placed garbage can became the unsuspecting victim to the rejected materials. Filling what was already inside even more. Not that the Quatre paid attention to that fact though.
The blond groaned, his midsection continued to churn even after it was purged of all it contained. He rolled carefully to his right side, drawing his legs close to his chest, hoping that by putting a little bit of pressure on it, his stomach would cease its movement and unease. His feet took a chill from the frigid air; by moving he had pulled them away from the pool of mismatched sheets at the foot of the bed.
He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look at that lamp again. Who cared if it had been a stupid coincidence, it had been a very unpleasant one. Leaving the taste of stale pine and bile in his mouth. The combination was sickening in itself, mixed with the pounding that had suddenly erupted in each temple. If his head didn't explode it would be a miracle.
The door to the room squeaked open, even the smallest sound seemed a painful roar. Quatre groaned and covered his ears against the noise, then soon regret the change he made as his middle threatened another uprising.
A measure of coolness spread pleasantly on the fevered skin of his forehead. "Drink some water." Said a muffled voice.
"I can't..." Muffled due to his hands blocking the path of sound waves.
"It'll make you feel better."
"It won't stay down."
"No, probably not." The speaker agreed matter-o-fact. Blue eyes again cracked opened to see Duo bent over him, holding a clear glass, the source of the heavenly coolness, against his skin. But he wasn't in his normal black attire, this Quatre managed to notice aside from everything thing else that was assaulting his system. Instead he wore a simple pair of blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt, he didn't look like a bartender.
"D-Duo?"
"Wishing it was some gorgeous babe huh?" The bartender laughed at the screwed face he got. "Sorry to disappoint ya dude." He steadied the glass as pale hands took a shaky hold. Helping the blond to drink without soaking both him and the bed. Next he handed over two small white pills, forcing a second drink. Hoping to cut down the dehydration that was surely causing a splintering hangover headache.
"Where am I?" Quatre croaked pushing the glass away. Realization slowly sinking in that it really 'was' Duo kneeling next to him, and it really 'wasn't' his bed he was laying in.
Taking a cross-legged seat on the semi clean floor, the long hair young man rested his elbows on his knees and propped his head up on fisted hands. "My spare bedroom at the moment, but I have a feeling you'll be well acquainted with the bathroom too."
A moan. "Why?" The question wasn't pertaining to the bathroom crack either. His mind found the power to understand the meaning behind the said.
The long, slightly disheveled braid was pulled over the bartender's shoulder. "After that stunt you pulled last night, it was either bring you here or let you inhale dust bunnies under the bar. But I don't think my boss would have been very happy with the second choice." The thick cord of hair was slowly unraveled from its binding, skilled hands working through each knock gently. "You don't remember anything do you?"
"It was raining."
"Yeah but it was raining all night long, I meant the six martinis you drank in just over an hour."
Again Quatre groaned, his insides going head over heels with the memory. How he wished that he were dead and the suffering might end. If possible the small body curled into an even smaller ball on top of the thin mattress. The pressure gripping his head increased with the need to remember the rest of the night before. He was going to be sick again. He could tell by the way the room spun and tilted even when his eyes were closed.
"I can't even imagine the kind of hangover that would result from that kind of consumption. Maybe I should have taken you to the hospital..."
The hospital? "Why?"
"People die from too much alcohol Quatre! Just like drugs... You overdose and you kick the bucket. Simple as that. It would have been the smart thing to do, but they, no doubt, would have snuck you in jail soon after pumping your stomach, considering your blood alcohol level was probably off every charts." The bartender cocked his head at the silence after his small rant. He looked at the lifeless blond tresses the hung in dreads, the light flush that gave the only colour to the pale face. The small tremors that shook the boy's lean curled form. Then desperate hands making a grab for the half filled wastebasket.
Duo heaved a sigh, blowing chestnut bangs away from his face. The sound of wrenching was nothing new to him. In his line of work it was as normal as saying 'hello' to an old friend. "If you have no where important to be today, you're welcome to sleep here as long as you like. I have a feeling you won't be up for any action for the rest of today anyway."
A mumbled thanks was issued from the hollow of the plastic container before it was set back down and Quatre resumed his previous pose. Wishing again for a quiet passing into the next world.
"Well Quat, I sure hope you've learned your lesson after all of this."
"Mmmhmm."
"I'll bring you up some crackers in a bit."
"Mmmm hmmm."
"And some more water."
A pause. "Duo?"
"Yes?"
"Can you take that thing with you?" One arm slumped out of the heap to point out the dusty old lamp on the bookcase. It hadn't been needed anywhere else so it was stashed in the spare room, heck, Duo didn't even know if it was plugged in.
"Yeah." He commented gently rearranging the skewed blankets so they actually covered the blond's body. "I get that feeling when I look at it too."
Duo had been pretty close in his prediction of down time caused by the intake of massive quantities of alcohol. But then again it was his job to know such details. 9:07 p.m. flashed on the alarm clock on the floor next to the bed when the call of nature beckoned Quatre to seek out the bathroom. Luck was with him seeing that he hadn't needed to seek it out until then. But only for the fact that he couldn't move more then a foot without becoming violently ill. Now his stomach decided to play nice as he wandered down the short hallway on unsteady legs. The patchwork quilt off the bed was wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Keeping away the chills even though his body was uncomfortably warm and sweat covered. Even the tiniest outside draft brought goose flesh to his skin.
After taking care of his bodies needs he found Duo in the small living room of the apartment, game controller in hand, sitting far too close to the TV on the farthest wall. Though seeing the size of it he probably had to sit that close in order to see what was on it.
"Good morning." The bartender said as Quatre took a precarious seat on the small couch. Violet eyes flicked back and forth watching the images as they appeared rapidly on the small screen.
Readjusting his covers the blond found a position that pleased both his body and his mind. He didn't feel like being sick again, it had gotten old long ago, but he had to speak with the bartender before he drove himself nuts with guilt. "I'm sorry." He muttered, a hint of shame colouring the simple words.
"Oh, I know!" The brunette viciously punched at the buttons on his Playstation controller, creating a known combo from the long string. "You've been mumbling it in your sleep for the past fourteen hours. I hope you never have a room mate, you'll drive the guy bananas after one night."
The outward joke was just a thin cover up. Quatre knew this. Normally happy, smiling Duo hadn't shown his face at any of the few times he remembered being conscious. And now the game proved a good distraction from the disappointment that was evident. Tony Hawk, the best skater game ever invented. Mad jumps, killer crashes and sick humor was enough the catch anyone's attention. Games made the world go around after all. How else would anyone want spend their one and only day off.
Duo played and Quatre watched, though both only paid half attention to what they were looking at. Minutes ticked by the hands of a wall clock, the kind of clock that had different beer bottles for the numbers.
The tick tock suddenly changed to chattered inhale then a tight half covered choke, which was not the sound it was designed to make. The brunette quickly hitting the pause button on his game and shot a glance over his shoulder, braid whipping around with the movement. He was at the blonde's side instantly, seeing that it hadn't been his clock to make the awful sound. He took a gentle hold of thin shoulders as the other fell limp, almost falling off the couch as recollection hit without warning, forcing painful sobs from the blonde abused throat. He saw blood form where Quatre bit violently down on his lower lip, vainly hoping to keep in any sound.
The bartender sat down in the remaining space on the couch curving his back so he could meet the teary gaze. "Quatre, I don't want to pry, but I can't help if I don't know what is going on." His supportive hold remained where it was, feeling the regular tremble beneath his gentle touch. Obviously there was more to this drinking binge then met the first glance.
"Oh Duo..." Quatre started between hinder breaths. Blond bangs sweeping back and forth with a lost shake "I'm sorry, I-I don't know what to do. It's all gone!"
"What's all gone?" Duo coaxed.
A dismayed cry. "Everything! Everything my father's worked for. Everything I've ever known! The whole bases of my entire life! Gone... gone." The quick words soon became too difficult to speak, catching on a lump in his constricted throat. The blond fell forward in a desperate need for support, burying his face into Duo's white clad chest. Strong arms wrapped securely around his quivering form, trying to chase away the misery that wasn't fully understood. But understanding wasn't needed at this point. Not when a friend appeared to be dying inside. Gently rocking them both on the tattered remains of his single piece of furniture, Duo muttered reassuring words into Quatre's ear. Allowing him to release the pain from his system.
"Is that why you told me to drop you off at Central Park last night? Did you really have no where else to go?" He felt Quatre shake his head. "And did you really think that I would just turn my back while you slept alone, in the rain. Parks are no safer then a dark alleyway. You wouldn't have lasted the night."
Quatre sniffled. "I didn't know where else to go." Unaware that he was squeezing the life out of another one of Duo's shirts. Knuckles bleaching white as they clutched fists full of fabric. "They took everything."
"Who?"
"My uncle."
Quatre's uncle, his legal guardian, though he was twenty-one he was still under the jurisdiction set up by his father until he was twenty-five. Or at least that's what Duo was able to make out from the hitched words spoken into his clothing. The reason for this being that he was the sole heir to the family business, and full reins to this could not be handed over until he came of age.
And that family business just happened to be Winner Corp. Another unexpected shock to the ears, since this family business just happened to be the largest organization ever to hit the modern world since Microsoft, in fact, now that he thought about it, Winner Corp. probably 'owned' Microsoft.
He knew Quatre's last name was Winner, he had seen it the first day they met when he carded the blond at the bar. But he never would have guessed he was one of 'the' Winners. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the news. Otherwise he seemed to miss pretty important stuff he was now wishing he knew.
"The Lyndale project was all they wanted. Once it was complete and approved they had no more use for me. Amal ask the committee to vote on whether or not they wanted a kid to head the company. 'Youth makes mistakes' he told them. 'Mistakes that would run Winner Corp. into the ground." He paused for a moment, making an attempt to stop the rage of emotions building inside of him. Hurt, betrayal, sadness, anger more then he could make out or handle. It had all been on a disc he was given at the end of that last day. His uncle had smiled at him while he handed it over.
"That's what you did all day and night?" Duo stated instead of questioned. They knew that Quatre kept ungodly work hours. "Worked your ass off and they voted you out huh?"
Again he felt the movement that translated into a nod. "I was so stupid . . . I should have seen this coming. My Uncle pushed the proposal through faster then was necessary, making everything twice as hard to get the approval needed. What did he care? I was the one doing all the debating . . ."
Another wave of tears fell, but this time they fell in silence. Becoming absorbed in the cotton as they landed, creating wet salty stains. With his forehead pressed Duo's chest, Quatre watched the tiny drops fall to their destination, dissolve, disappearing yet leaving a mark that told of their passing. Just like his father, even after his death two years ago, people still spoke his name, newspapers still published his achievements, and acquaintances still gave their condolences at formal business parties.
He was flown on his father's wings to the top, and was blown off by a storm no radar could detect.
How many minutes they sat there, Quatre didn't know, it wasn't until he was gently pushed back that he realized time was still moving on without him. Violet eyes searched his red streaked face for a moment before pulling the quilt back up to cover his shoulders.
"Fuck'em Quat."
Shock. "Wha-?!"
A raised hand cut him off before he could continue. Duo's eyes closed as he carefully picked his next words. "I've seen the amount of work you do man. Not taking a single moments rest. If they don't want you there, then screw them. Screw the stuffy offices, screw the mountains of paperwork, screw the back stabbing coworkers."
"But my uncle-!"
"And fuck your uncle too! If being in a big name business turns family against family, then 'get out' and let them kill each other for the top spot. That's no way to live your life!"
"But it is the only life I know!" Quatre protested, hitting his fists into his covered knees.
"News flash dude... that life sucked royal ass."
Perfectly straight teeth click shut, silence fell over the room in a thick dampening blanket. One more minute passed before Duo gave his shoulders a last squeeze and rose to his feet, heading for the kitchen.
"Think you can stomach some food?" Quatre nodded his head slightly when the bartender looked back to him. "Good, cause I'm starving." Two turkey and cheese sandwiches were made before Duo returned to his new spot on the couch. The Playstation was pulled closer and a new game was loaded. It seemed the previous conversation was now a closed issue.
A second controller was dropped in the blonde's lap and another character dissolved into life on the screen of a war setting. "After a hard day of work," The brown haired bartender started, talking around a mouth full of bread. "I'll just hook up a game and shoot things to my heart's content. Works better then doing so in real life, no mess and it won't land me in jail." The two game sprites moved in the playing field, ridiculously large guns pointed straight ahead of them, ready for any evil to come. Duo chuckled beside him, sprinkling an addicting amount of confidence and guarantee over the dreary state Quatre felt like he would remain in for the rest of his life. But the bartender was going to have none of it.
The best cure he could see for his bar time regular was a good dose of brain cell killing TV.