Disclaimer: I don't own any of Fight Club nor its characters. I have no affiliation with Chuck Palahniuk.
He spat out his tooth on the concrete floor- It clacked endlessly and left a linear trail of shiny blood. I could see my reflection in it, like someone had streched red, shiny saran wrap across my face. Cool.
I looked up at his face and was shocked. How it had changed! From being so smooth and beautiful to a distorted mess of flesh, blood, and bone that talked and saw and smelt. For a moment I wondered if punching him again would rewind time, returning him to that symmetrical portrait of a Calvin Klein model lookalike. No, I liked him this way.
He righted himself, and I imagined seeing his spine come intact again and his shoulders even with his collarbone. I didn't like him like this. I liked him before, hunched over and distorted. He was beautiful that way.
Tyler watched from a not-too-far corner of the room. He had taught me how to do this- How to destroy something beautiful and learn to love it. I felt like I had done this all my life.
I could tell he was enjoying it. He looked hungry for it too, his eyes all shiny and greedy similar to a crack addict. He licked his lips, growing impatient. His arms were folded indifferently. The almighty Tyler, like a Grecian king watched two soldiers go at it in an arena. Just like-
Man, he got me. The bastard got me. The swift lefthook hit my ribs. They would have cracked at the beginning of the fight. Not now, not when he was weak. The pain vibrated through my bones. The bloody stain grew in a straight incision on my ribs, like in the way it does in movies. Such a perfect wound.
Tyler laughed.
Hope you like this one! I haven't made any additions to my first Fight Club fanfic so I'm creating a new one. I know the first chapter is short, but please keep writing! You'll like what you see.
