Authors note: I've been updating like crazy, I know, But I'm winding down.
I know what's going to happen but my inspiration is slowing down - PLEASE
REVIEW!!! Even if you already reviewed!!
JET "BLACK DOG" BLACK
Thank god Ed was a genius hacker.
They had found where Vicious had now resided, and decided they'd go after them as soon as possible.
Turned out, Spike and Vicious had a fling years back.
Spike wasn't sure what he wanted. Jet tried his best to make the situation comfortable for him.
Maybe Spike still felt for this Vicious shit.
"Well, you know, I try to hate him, but it's damn hard to hate someone who you told that you loved once, you know?"
"Well, yeah. I get it...I guess..." Jet rubbed his forehead.
"Gren knew his name. They knew each other, damnit..." Spike ran his fingers through his hair. Jet reached over and ran his own fingers through Spike's hair. It was so soft.
"Maybe he didn't know that I...that I would be here. Maybe it was purely for Gren that he came here."
"Does thinking that make you feel better?"
"No."
Jet put his hands in his lap and looked down at them. He felt humbled by Spike's sudden confessional.
And maybe a little bit jealous.
"Spike, the truth is, I-" Jet hesitated. "-I lo-err, I'm sorry things couldn't be easier for you. But right now, we go save the damsel in distress, hmm? Worry about it later?"
"Yeah. Later," Spike stood and looked Jet in the eyes. Jet looked away first.
He was afraid of what Spike would see.
GRENCIA MARS ELIJAH GUO ECKNER
He had thrown up at least four times, more blood than vomit. It was becoming harder to breathe. As Gren sat, hugging the toilet, he thought.
He thought about his life. His purpose.
The only thing that gave his life purpose was Vicious...and now that Vicious returned, he felt the familiar occurrence of addiction. Hooked on a drug you know is killing you, and you hate it, yet the high is so intense, you couldn't stop riding the ride.
Maybe he should end it right then, and show Vicious that he can resist.
It was so tempting, to throw himself out the window, feel the wind beneath his wings until the final culmination when he hit the ground. It was so high up, there was no way he could survive.
Or to press cold steel against the side of his head, or better, in his mouth so it could clean out the feeling of Vicious' honey kisses. To feel the final climax as he squeezed the trigger. He might not even hear the gunshot go off.
Maybe to slip into a warm bath and pick up a razor to his wrists and -
But he wasn't strong enough to resist. He couldn't resist Vicious. He wanted to dance the dance, and be caught up in his web.
He made himself sick.
JET "BLACK DOG" BLACK
Thank god Ed was a genius hacker.
They had found where Vicious had now resided, and decided they'd go after them as soon as possible.
Turned out, Spike and Vicious had a fling years back.
Spike wasn't sure what he wanted. Jet tried his best to make the situation comfortable for him.
Maybe Spike still felt for this Vicious shit.
"Well, you know, I try to hate him, but it's damn hard to hate someone who you told that you loved once, you know?"
"Well, yeah. I get it...I guess..." Jet rubbed his forehead.
"Gren knew his name. They knew each other, damnit..." Spike ran his fingers through his hair. Jet reached over and ran his own fingers through Spike's hair. It was so soft.
"Maybe he didn't know that I...that I would be here. Maybe it was purely for Gren that he came here."
"Does thinking that make you feel better?"
"No."
Jet put his hands in his lap and looked down at them. He felt humbled by Spike's sudden confessional.
And maybe a little bit jealous.
"Spike, the truth is, I-" Jet hesitated. "-I lo-err, I'm sorry things couldn't be easier for you. But right now, we go save the damsel in distress, hmm? Worry about it later?"
"Yeah. Later," Spike stood and looked Jet in the eyes. Jet looked away first.
He was afraid of what Spike would see.
GRENCIA MARS ELIJAH GUO ECKNER
He had thrown up at least four times, more blood than vomit. It was becoming harder to breathe. As Gren sat, hugging the toilet, he thought.
He thought about his life. His purpose.
The only thing that gave his life purpose was Vicious...and now that Vicious returned, he felt the familiar occurrence of addiction. Hooked on a drug you know is killing you, and you hate it, yet the high is so intense, you couldn't stop riding the ride.
Maybe he should end it right then, and show Vicious that he can resist.
It was so tempting, to throw himself out the window, feel the wind beneath his wings until the final culmination when he hit the ground. It was so high up, there was no way he could survive.
Or to press cold steel against the side of his head, or better, in his mouth so it could clean out the feeling of Vicious' honey kisses. To feel the final climax as he squeezed the trigger. He might not even hear the gunshot go off.
Maybe to slip into a warm bath and pick up a razor to his wrists and -
But he wasn't strong enough to resist. He couldn't resist Vicious. He wanted to dance the dance, and be caught up in his web.
He made himself sick.