Fighting Oblivion

By Angelfirenze

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were or will be.

Summary: A collection of Bobby drabbles featuring Thursday lyrics; this is the third, the first two-parter now being finished, continuing when he is thirty-nine years old. It's now 2000, but pre-Alex. During another sleepless night, Bobby's mind gets to wandering...he's a glutton for punishment and, maybe, always has been.

Rating: R just for caution...some Dark!Bobby thoughts in this one. In fact, I should probably warn that if you shouldn't be reading or watching anything to do with sex, you shouldn't read this part. Just skip it. You won't miss anything.

Red and White

'Lie with me,' I said and lying's what she always did and always will...

It's 1:05 in the morning and I can't stop tumbling. My head is clouded and thick with thoughts of her. I can barely breathe past the memories.

"Did you miss me, Bobby? No? Well, we're just going to have to fix that, won't we?"

Oh God, just the memory of those nails raking through my skin, the sting of the sweat soaking into my wounds gets me hard. I want to shut it out, make it go away, but it won't. And part of me thinks that I don't want it to. I miss it. The vicioussweetalwayssharpasironspikes way her nails would rake over and through me. I need it. I need her.

"Did you miss me, Bobby? Answer or I'll just hurt you again. And, of course, if you answer the wrong way..."

Half the time, I lied, just to get her to...oh God, I can't take it. It's hot outside so I went to bed naked and didn't bother to get under the sheets. The dark head of my erection pokes mockingly back up at me, taunting me. So does she, of course.

It's the light from your sunless room…Scattered in pieces all around you…Recession of these thoughtless forms…Reciting every line as a way of life and a way of death in time…

Part of me wonders if it matters as I try to ignore it, try to ignore her. I try imagining my grandmother, but of course, I don't even remember her so that doesn't work. I try thinking of non-sexual things, like refrigerator doors. Only a complete pervert could get an erection thinking of a refrigerator door, right? I like to think (read: believe) that I'm still at least a little normal. But three seconds later, there's a magnet holding up a photograph of Nicole, naked, and the photograph multiplies, changing subtly every time. Each time she's in a new position and suddenly I groan as my hand has come out of nowhere to latch onto myself and stroke. Shit. I tried not to, I really did. I guess I'm just weak. And the scariest part of it all is that I find I don't mind.

Step inside and march in the procession of empty hearts…Love has torn us apart…It's a part of me, a part of you, in time we're falling apart together…