Rather important little note: This fic is not a fic at all. It is a conglomeration of small drabbles, pieces of stories that do not belong in any fic. These were all challenges, where a phrase and the word count were given to me, and I wrote something in response to the challenge. I like some of them, so I'm posting them here, in this story thing. New drabbles go into new chapters. None of them go together. They're just here.
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Challenge #20
Phrase: "I woke up alone."
Word Count: 802
Rating: R
Title: Slow Burn
Author: Rydia Highwind
Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid and Metal Gear Solid 2 and all characters refered to herein belong to Konami. I claim nothing, I'm simply borrowing.
Summary: A year after Zanzibar Land, Snake reflects on his life and who he has become.
Warning: Yaoi, Fox/Snake. Extreme angst. Seriously. It has Dashboard Confessional playing in the background, or at least it SHOULD.
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I woke up alone this morning.
It's been a year now since I started waking up without anyone next to me in bed, but somehow, I'm still not used to it. It really hadn't been very long that I did wake up with him there, but it still bothers me when I roll over sleepily and he's not there, or when I wake up from a nightmare and I'm all alone. I don't like being alone, but I don't like needing someone there either. I mean, my whole life thus far has been centered around the fact that I don't need someone to hold my hand, and the minute I let someone in to do just that, I got burned.
Technically, I suppose I wasn't alone this morning. I somehow managed to leave the barn door unlocked last night after I fed the dogs, and all twelve of them were huddled around me or on top of me when I woke up. Why they chose to sleep in the snow when they could have slept in the nice warm barn is beyond me, but I suppose it kept me from freezing to death. I have yet to decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Passing out in the front yard last night wasn't entirely unintentional.
I didn't mean to fall there, really, but I could have gotten up. I didn't have to lie face up in the snow and stare at the stars, my half empty whiskey bottle still in hand. I didn't decide to fall, I simply decided not to get back up. Maybe staring up into the cloudless night and wondering why I couldn't be a part of that universe was better than lying in a bed alone and too worried about nightmares to go to sleep. Maybe I couldn't feel the cold wet of the snow seeping in through my coat and jeans. Maybe I just didn't feel like being alive any longer.
I guess it doesn't really matter now. I'm not suicidal or anything like that, I just sometimes don't know why I'm alive. There's a difference. If I wanted to die, all I would have to do is get the pistol from underneath my pillow and put it in my mouth. I don't want to do that. I don't want to die. I just don't want to be alive any longer. I guess it's still suicide when you drink too much and smoke a pack a day because you simply don't care anymore. When you fall asleep in the snow because it's too much effort to get back up. But it's a different kind.
It's looking in the mirror every morning and hating the face you see there. It's skipping meals randomly because it doesn't occur to you that you need to eat. It's voices in your mind constantly reminding you that the only reason you are what you are is you. It's having a husky for a best friend because no one else gives a damn. It's the fact that you can't cry when you're sober, no matter how much you need to. It's drowning in time and air, slowly, gradually, until there's nothing else to cling to. It's asphyxiation as someone lets the air out of your world. It's a fire, burning you on the inside, where no one can see. Slowly, and no one knows it's there but you. A slow burn, eating you until there's nothing left.
I woke up alone this morning, lying in the snow with dogs lounged all around me and over me keeping me warm and a half empty whiskey bottle in one hand. It was the most pathetic thing I've ever done. I've become a sorry, pathetic nothing. I sat up in the snow, wet and shivering and I've probably got pneumonia now, and I started laughing. There was nothing to laugh about, and I really don't know why I was laughing. Maybe it's because I couldn't cry. Maybe I was hysterical, I don't know. Or maybe I was laughing at my own goddamn idiocy.
I don't know what I'm doing out here, I really don't. I feel like I'm searching for something, but I don't know where I am or what I'm looking for or how to find whatever it is. Maybe I haven't had a great life, but I had something. I had something I could cling to, someone that could make me smile. It wasn't nirvana, but it was /something/. And now all of that is gone and I don't know where to look to get it back. Maybe I never will get it back. Maybe I don't deserve to, since I'll probably just fuck it up again anyway. Maybe it wasn't my fault, but goddamn it, it wasn't his either.
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Challenge #20
Phrase: "I woke up alone."
Word Count: 802
Rating: R
Title: Slow Burn
Author: Rydia Highwind
Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid and Metal Gear Solid 2 and all characters refered to herein belong to Konami. I claim nothing, I'm simply borrowing.
Summary: A year after Zanzibar Land, Snake reflects on his life and who he has become.
Warning: Yaoi, Fox/Snake. Extreme angst. Seriously. It has Dashboard Confessional playing in the background, or at least it SHOULD.
--
I woke up alone this morning.
It's been a year now since I started waking up without anyone next to me in bed, but somehow, I'm still not used to it. It really hadn't been very long that I did wake up with him there, but it still bothers me when I roll over sleepily and he's not there, or when I wake up from a nightmare and I'm all alone. I don't like being alone, but I don't like needing someone there either. I mean, my whole life thus far has been centered around the fact that I don't need someone to hold my hand, and the minute I let someone in to do just that, I got burned.
Technically, I suppose I wasn't alone this morning. I somehow managed to leave the barn door unlocked last night after I fed the dogs, and all twelve of them were huddled around me or on top of me when I woke up. Why they chose to sleep in the snow when they could have slept in the nice warm barn is beyond me, but I suppose it kept me from freezing to death. I have yet to decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Passing out in the front yard last night wasn't entirely unintentional.
I didn't mean to fall there, really, but I could have gotten up. I didn't have to lie face up in the snow and stare at the stars, my half empty whiskey bottle still in hand. I didn't decide to fall, I simply decided not to get back up. Maybe staring up into the cloudless night and wondering why I couldn't be a part of that universe was better than lying in a bed alone and too worried about nightmares to go to sleep. Maybe I couldn't feel the cold wet of the snow seeping in through my coat and jeans. Maybe I just didn't feel like being alive any longer.
I guess it doesn't really matter now. I'm not suicidal or anything like that, I just sometimes don't know why I'm alive. There's a difference. If I wanted to die, all I would have to do is get the pistol from underneath my pillow and put it in my mouth. I don't want to do that. I don't want to die. I just don't want to be alive any longer. I guess it's still suicide when you drink too much and smoke a pack a day because you simply don't care anymore. When you fall asleep in the snow because it's too much effort to get back up. But it's a different kind.
It's looking in the mirror every morning and hating the face you see there. It's skipping meals randomly because it doesn't occur to you that you need to eat. It's voices in your mind constantly reminding you that the only reason you are what you are is you. It's having a husky for a best friend because no one else gives a damn. It's the fact that you can't cry when you're sober, no matter how much you need to. It's drowning in time and air, slowly, gradually, until there's nothing else to cling to. It's asphyxiation as someone lets the air out of your world. It's a fire, burning you on the inside, where no one can see. Slowly, and no one knows it's there but you. A slow burn, eating you until there's nothing left.
I woke up alone this morning, lying in the snow with dogs lounged all around me and over me keeping me warm and a half empty whiskey bottle in one hand. It was the most pathetic thing I've ever done. I've become a sorry, pathetic nothing. I sat up in the snow, wet and shivering and I've probably got pneumonia now, and I started laughing. There was nothing to laugh about, and I really don't know why I was laughing. Maybe it's because I couldn't cry. Maybe I was hysterical, I don't know. Or maybe I was laughing at my own goddamn idiocy.
I don't know what I'm doing out here, I really don't. I feel like I'm searching for something, but I don't know where I am or what I'm looking for or how to find whatever it is. Maybe I haven't had a great life, but I had something. I had something I could cling to, someone that could make me smile. It wasn't nirvana, but it was /something/. And now all of that is gone and I don't know where to look to get it back. Maybe I never will get it back. Maybe I don't deserve to, since I'll probably just fuck it up again anyway. Maybe it wasn't my fault, but goddamn it, it wasn't his either.