I am upset today, so I'll just say this: Sorry for this inconsistent updates and whatever. I went on a brief hiatus, but now I'm back. This oneshot is a request from Ratty4949, rating is T, word being bitter. There's no pairing, but this does revolve around Nutty and Flak. Enjoy.
He was supposed to get over her, to move on from their lost friendship. It had been months since that fateful night, after all. The night where his pent up anger was released, and she was the target it was aimed at. He hadn't meant to lash out at her on purpose, but his frustration towards the world, towards life, had bubbled, simmering until it was unbearable. He hadn't meant to strike her to the floor—not when she was helping him—hadn't meant to cause the fear in her watery eyes.
She promised herself she would discard any memories they held together, locking away the painful reminiscences of the angry tantrums he had. She would not deny the tears which flowed down her face as she recalled the pain. The constant reminder that she had been subject to his fury remained branded in her mind, etched into her brain were his malice filled look and acrimonious insults. She pledged she would no longer cause him irritation again, so she cut herself from the picture. It was just..so hard to know..you were the reason why your friend despised the world.
Even if she was not in the fault whatsoever, she brought it upon herself to bear the guilt. The burden of his shortcomings and temperamental attitude. As his closest friend, as his only friend—all of which he had lost, quite quickly actually—she was there to aid him..Aid him out of his rut, and teach him that life wasn't as bleak as it looked. But she could not anymore, not after he had thrown her to the floor. After he laid his hands on her, nails digging into her soft, unscarred skin, and hollered.
She was not to speak to him, but he obviously hadn't received the memo.
The knocking at the door persistently thrust a battering ram at her brain. Knock, knock, ding, ding. Persistent little noises which pierced her ears, louder than the tolls of a Catholic church on Sabbath. They vibrated her insides, her stomach convulsing in violent cramps, and wracked her nerves. If she didn't answer, would he go away? If she stayed hidden in her kitchen, would he leave her alone? If she hadn't been acquainted with him, would this baggage be on another's shoulders?
She could hear his knocks become frantic, urgent, as if she would let him in if they were any louder. The dongs, the hammering, would he try kicking down the door? He was strong. That was for sure. But was he powerful enough to break in the wood? Did..did she have to fear for her safety? Again? The phone was only ten steps away, cozily snuggled in its stand, tempting her to press three buttons. Numbers which would alert the authorities.
What do I do? She urgently thought, reverting to biting her nails anxiously. I wonder if I should go to my room..hide under my covers maybe..but if I try to leave the kitchen he'll see me..through the window. There's a possibility that will fuel his anger, knowing I'm home..and I won't answer him. But..he should know I don't want him here!
On the other hand, the countering argument swayed her actions, if I tell him to really stay away, and even threaten him with a restraining order, he might get the message. Then I'll finally have closure...That was the best option of them, as he would return later, most likely more upset. She couldn't get another penalty from the landlord, one more and she would have to start searching for a new apartment. The other ten thousand before had been results of him, too; his screaming, his impassioned, raged outbursts, his refusal to leave the residence..
That's what I'll do. Just tell him to leave. And to not come back.
She stood shakily, stifling her cry as the knob rattled fervently. Hands pressed to her mouth, she shambled to the door. Did she really want to open it...I need to. The chain went untouched as she awkwardly unlocked the door, turning the knob ever so slowly.
And shrieking slightly, his hand instantly entering through the crack and gripping the wood. Muffling a regretful cry, she pushed against the door, despaired to see his foot was jammed in the tiny space. He really did not want her shutting the door. "Flaky," his once shrill, energetic voice rasped, "stop! Dammit, stop! Just open the door!" Squeezing her eyes and shaking her mess of red hair, her efforts to shut him out increased.
"G-go away!" she sobbed. "L-leave! I warned you to leave me be, but you keep c-coming back! What must I do to avoid you, m-move cities?!" He would follow her, and she didn't doubt it. He would track her down to the ends of the earth if he meant keeping her on his leash, and that frightened her. More, it scarred her, fearing that she would not have a moment's rest, a second's peace, having to glance over her shoulder for his wild green hair. He would be considered a stalker, but to bestow a title so..dark on one who was once her friend..
"But Flaky, I want to talk! Why can't we just talk!? Why do you have to slam the door in my face whenever I appear?!" She wouldn't grow accustomed to his newly acquired tone, so unlike his previous one. Like he had gone through puberty a second time, and with it came along a new addiction. New voice, new fixations. "Why do you have to ignore me?! You know I would never do that purposefully!"
"But you did! And I-I promised myself I wouldn't be subject to your fits again!" Flaky croaked, heavily leaning on the knob rather than pushing. Five o'clock in the morning and all this screaming—her landlord would definitely be kicking her to the curb. "Y-you knew what you were doing, Nutty!" It pained her to even utter his name. To have the syllables sweep her tongue on their way out, her tastebuds cringed at the astringent flavour. "And you faced the consequences."
"But you're mindful of who I am! I was under the influence, I didn't know what was happening, all I was aware of this boiling anger and—" His nails dug deeply into the door, then relaxed some. Flaky clearly pictured the crescent shapes he left behind, highlighted an angry red, like the marks she found on her arms that night. There was a hesitation before he spoke again, his raised voice lowering to an irritated whisper. "I wouldn't bring you any intentional harm. You know that better than anyone else, yet you refuse to accept my apologies."
"How can I forgive someone who doesn't truly understand what they're a-at fault for?" She remorsefully examined his shoe. Untied laces, faded colours once so jubilant, mud-caked soles. When he bought them he swore their condition would be maintained—he lied. Another reason she couldn't grant him entrance, he would drag dirt over her floors, and the landlord's wife was a stickler for cleanliness. That was another docked point, then she would be in the negative strikes.. "If you were sorry, you w-wouldn't have..committed the same offense twice.."
His reply came seconds late. "..Foolish, the first time was me being foolish. I shouldn't have listened to Shifty," his whisper reduced to mumblings, "if I hadn't, God, think of how much time that would have saved me." Hand receding from the knob—he had wished to open it himself—he left his foot barring the doorway. He needed to talk to her at any means. Desperation: What Flaky referred to him behind his back.
"It's far too late to regret things now," she answered bitterly, finding his excuses tiresome, overused even. It was just like him to blame another for his actions. He was a human with a subconscious, a right to make his decision, but he fell to peer pressure. And it reared back to bite him in the—"You could have denied anything he o-offered you. When has Shifty ever been reliable for anything but bad deals," she grimaced at the mention of the twin, the one who lived down the hall, accurately speaking.
"I couldn't only stand there and refuse! The others were looking, and Shifty would have forced me to drink it any—"
The redhead's narrowed eye unexpectedly appeared through the crack, an indefinable blend of animosity and rue lingering in it. An aura of restrained fury diffused from her. Another emotion hovered above her, though, an indescribable feeling. Was it sorrow? Before he could make further assumptions about the glare, she blinked and the light vanished. "It's just like you to make excuses," Flaky spat venomously, words steady with some effort. "You aren't capable of taking the fault for yourself, so you insist others are responsible. Typical Nutty."
Nutty scowled deeply. He really had changed over the course of seven months, transforming from a bundle of energetic, candy-loving happiness, to a rundown wreck. His former self was ruined, forever gone, lost in the oblivion which was this newly found addiction. This addiction, it was near to impossible to break, even for the strongest of men. And he was..small in stature, pushed aside by most other boys, labeled as nothing but a child. He was a child; one trapped in a body that aged faster than his brain could keep up. Flaky regretted to say that that child was gone, along with his morals and dignity.
Curly yellow-green hair was tussled sloppily, his shirt loosened and his pants sagging, even his signature candy cane necklace was nowhere to be found. His unkempt, bedraggled condition posed who he was inside. A broken spirit, desperately needing help. He came to her, seeking a chance for redemption, aware of her lenient and tolerant ways. She had shown such forgiveness towards trifling indignities, such an amount of chances. But gifting second, third, chances wasn't in her job description. The first time he had shown this side, brought about by his addiction, she had become wary. Like the regulations of her apartment, three strikes and he was out.
The junkie wasn't a child anymore, or even a teen. They graduated highschool two summers ago. While she progressed to college and upwards, he remained in a rut. A deep trench he wouldn't be escaping. Where he could wallow in his pity and the aftereffect of his decisions, where self-hatred settled in and made life Hell. Only he was accountable for his actions, but he didn't want to admit it.
He was stubborn and prideful, the worst combination. He claimed his failing health was hardly his fault. Idiot.
"Why the bite? How about you just let me in and we'll discuss this?" His head thumped the wood, the addict resigning with a soft sigh. Kneading his neck, he continued with trepidation—obviously, they weren't going anywhere just by screaming. And he didn't want to be escorted from the property again, not by the beefy landlord and his sausage fingers. "Just for a moment," an incredulous look depleted him; she really was serious about this..?
"Have your thoughts become foggy? Or did you just stuff cotton in yours ears?" Flaky searched behind her for the small, digital clock. It hung mutely on its hook, its only duty in life being to tell time. Its hands moved in an endless repetition, dully emphasizing the lack of time she had. She briefly mused the childish theory of, if she spun the hands back, would the hours and days rewind themselves? "I-it's like you haven't heard a word I've said..Nutty, please leave my apartment before I call Splen—"
"I'm not in your apartment. I'm in the corridor outside your apartment."
Baring her teeth, she bristled at the moronic comment. Whether it was offhanded, or meant to infuriate her further, she didn't know. Didn't care. If Nutty was as stupid as to not understand the gravity of the situation then..then at least that hadn't changed. A ghost of a smile overtook her ruby lips, but it vanished as quickly as a group of dispersing fish, a predator's jaws just inches from their tails. He had changed, for the worse, and she wasn't hesitating in calling her hero to guide him away. Just because something stirred her memories, her feelings of exuberant times and..mushy..friendship stuff..resurfacing, did not necessarily mean he hadn't converted into a full-fledged jerk.
She shot him a look, one that spewed hatred. "A-are you mocking me? By acting like a wise guy..Okay fine, you're in the corridor, what difference does it make?" Apparently, it makes all the difference—what a..dummy.."You're still causing a disturbance, and my d-distress, and Splendid is very capable of throwing you out of here. I would simply need to press a-a number and he would come, so please, I'll ask once more. Go before I get really upset."
"Give me one..no two good reasons why you won't allow me to come inside." As he drew close to the crack, she receded. Nutty stared solemnly, lazy eye straining to look upon her properly, and experimentally lifted his eyelids with fingers. Taken aback, she waited, vigilant to his actions. "You can check if you'd like, I'm somber right now. I haven't had anything for a while," a while to him could be hours, Flaky thought suspiciously. "Shine a flashlight in there if you want. I've had it done enough times before, what would be the hassle of having it once more?"
"What is that going to prove?" If any resident were to walk out then—which she was surprised hadn't happened, yet—what would this look like? A girl wearing a frazzled appearance, bruise-like bags proclaiming her weariness, and using the door as a barrier. And a boy who..could be living on the streets eyeing her. She wondered if they would give them the time of day, or carry on their task. Unless they heard her wails beforehand, then she could expect a policeman's knock instead. "I've noticed you've become rather a-avid in hiding these signs. You've evaded the law a few times thanks to these..tricks."
"Give me some credit, and trust," he churlishly rolled. Lips curling into a disdainful frown, he awaited he approval. From their time together during their friendship, he learned that she would eventually cave into him. She was a pushover, even more of a child than even he. Where he lacked maturity, she lacked insight of the corrupted world that reigned around them. She was innocent, naive, no matter what she claimed of being an adult. While he wasted hundreds on drinks, drugs, that poisoned his body, she lived the sheltered life of a cooped hen. Even as an adult, she was irrationally dense to virulent mishaps.
"I shouldn't be giving you anything, but I convinced myself I needed to end this." End this before it got out of hand, and I was caught in another fit..where Flippy wouldn't be around to rescue me.."For everything you've done, for the pain," she reluctantly peered to the carpet, nibbling on her tender bottom lip. "For all the anguish you've caused me, I should simply file a restraining o-order. But I don't. I..won't, probably. But just because the law says you aren't to come around here," a fierceness entered her threat, a fierceness that, if it had been a material object, could have bludgeoned him beyond death. "Doesn't mean you are allowed. What don't you understand? I don't like you coming around." She ended frightfully, scanning his face for any misconceptions.
"I swear on my life, Flaky, if you let me enter and you actually listen to what I have to say and you still don't believe me afterwards, I'll leave you alone." He unwillingly complied with the voice, the nagging little whisper breathing in his ear, which separated the paths of good and bad. If Flaky really wanted for him to desert her life, becoming but a beastly memory of the past, then it was all he could do to please her. To see that she was content, at ease, with her life. He didn't enjoy seeing the kindle of hurt in her doe-like eyes. She thought him as a twisted, sick drug user, but through the smoke and clouded mirrors he longed to comfort her. Like the old times.
Before when his life revolved around candy and they were best friends, she would come to him whenever she was hurting. Flippy was her first choice most times, but when the circumstances dealt with woe or grief, she would refer to him as her helper. He was her feel good friend, the boy whose arms would be open. Flippy was sometimes busy with job hunting—a returned soldier, who had a tendency of shouting and threatening clients, wasn't easy finding a job for. Splendid had his job at the fire station..and the police station..and any station established to assist others, along with his job as a reporter. Those two were her heroes, sort of, and the shoulders she leant on in times of torment.
Though, they weren't reliable. They left her flailing on her own at times, without a rope to pull her from the churning waters of stressful fear. The others were of little help, too. Lifty, he was nice enough, when Shifty was not influencing him. Her girlfriends—they were happy with the road their lives were on, and they wouldn't grasp the feeling of being lost she held. They wouldn't make her laugh, laugh hard enough that tears ran down her heart shaped face. He could only draw those laughs from her. And he was always there, at her doorstep in a heartbeat and eagerly, vibrantly giggling things to lift her spirits. Nutty was..nice, when he hadn't turned.
She cried when she lost her friend. She had thrown herself on her bed, hair wildly cast around her, and sobbed great tears into her pillow. Her light of happiness was doused. He was the beacon and she was the vessel. Well, what occurs when a beacon's beam flickers and dies? The ship is abandoned in confused darkness, desperately trying to locate land on its own but only meeting wave upon wave of disappointment. She hadn't veritably lost him, no, but she might as well have. He stopped being her adolescent friend. He stopped having the vigor she admired him for. He stopped wanting to save her from the waters, instead leaving her to drown, laughing as her hand sunk below the black surface.
Flaky hadn't lost hope that he would revert back to his animated self. She wouldn't—couldn't—believe that he was truly gone, dematerialized into a faded nothingness, acted like that persona had not existed. The physical pain was endurable, a pleasure contrasted to the torture it was to witness her friend..waste away..his body decaying and disintegrating before her. The worst part was, he didn't want her help. He didn't seek professionals to rid him of the foul addiction. He was not caring if he brought her emotional pain. His name became a bad omen, a taboo, to her then.
She assumed she would be ready to shout in his face, screaming her hatred towards him. Now, she wasn't sure. Did she want to cut him from her life?
Flaky brooded over his proposition, shutting the door. There was a short rattling and the door opened just as quickly as it closed. "You get five minutes to explain," she said blandly. "No more than that, and I'm counting." Her tendrils whipped over her shoulder as she spun on heel, back to his beguiled expression. Was she actually letting him in?..Why did that disappoint him? Oh yeah, she's only doing this to ensure I leave her alone. Forever. Devoid of zest, he reluctantly tailed her.
The apartment was as he remembered it. Same furniture, positioned in the same way, pictures covering the expanse of every wall and letting naught a beige coloured surface peek through, and the exact cozy feel, like that of a secluded woodland cottage. He craved to drag his long fingers over the pictures, craved to indulge in the reminiscence, and skim through the past. He wanted his soul to be detached from his mortal body, so he could walk the extent of this earthly realm.
Like in the movies he watched as a child, the ones which aired around Christmas time. The hateful grouch would be granted the chance to relive his past, noting the errors of his ways as time progressed. Reviewing his lack of good deeds and surplus of bad deeds, he found he was but a cynical man; old, alone, and overflowing with rue. Finally after seeing his demise, he would return to modern time, rehabilitated in a way. He would correct his flaws and live his days in complacent blessedness. He would..would be a changed man who everybody adored. They did not hold a grudge against their former antagonist, which was not how it was in reality. At all.
Nutty ambled in the threshold of her apartment. What occurs in the movies almost never occurs in real life, sad to say. He wasn't this reconstituted saint. His friends wouldn't accept him with open arms and forgiveness; they would rather witness him rot before their eyes before showing any hospitality. This boy, man, was not in the least of ways perfect, nor was he anything close to it. He wasn't perfect before he had hocked up on these dubious packages, and he could be summarized in one word: A mistake. Sighing at the analogy, he met her expectant gaze.
"Well?" Flaky broke the silence. She hadn't thought he would admire her things with such..intensity and longing. She detected a sadness in them—let him be sad. Let him be miserable because he wouldn't see the interior of her apartment after this. Let him realize he deserved the culpability of his wrongdoings. Running her fingers through her sleek but tangled hair, she preoccupied herself by adjusting a few pictures. Pictures of her and Flippy, the ones which contained Nutty were hidden away. "You had an explanation prepared, did you not?"
"I did," he sedately answered, the door's click lost in the soundless room. He forced a smile, if it could be considered one. "Like what you've done with the place. Good memories we had here, eh?" Her crimson eyes crystallized, stare freezing, as though she were trying to tear out his vocal chords with it. What a tsundere, I'm just trying to ease into this. Share some warmness and make this simplier, but how can I when she's so..bitter about it? "It's like I haven't been here in..seven months?" He cracked another smile at the pathetic attempt of a joke.
Her face was chiseled from stone with the emotionless facade she wore. He did not see the slightest curve of her full lips, did not hear the breezy giggles that reminded him of ripples in water. She was a dispassionate pile of rocks compared to her screaming earlier. Unfeeling, and uncooperative. It took a moment for her to say, "Yes, very funny," before she lowered her eyes. Another minute passed in awkwardness, where he bungled for a proper sentence and she shot down his every attempt. When she opened her mouth, she said, "Are you just going to waste my time, or are you going to explain?"
He blinked at her forwardness. Yes, he promised his explanation, but he partially hoped she would see his sincere penitence. Clearly, however, she wasn't in the mood to be served a pitiful plate of contrition. "Ah," Nutty began thoughtfully—as thoughtful as an emaciated, dirty boy could be-a priest about to preach a sermon. "That's why you let me in, right? I'll just start with," he shifted in his spot, "I'm sorry, Flaky. The other times you turned a deaf ear to my amends, I wasn't given a chance to apologize properly. Now I can only ask for you to say..?"
She snorted. Not the reaction he was looking for, but it was something.
"I thought you would act that way. Not willing to let go of anything," he frowned. "Always living in past events and never quite moving on. Where does that leave me, may I ask you? You know, without your pardon, this will hang over me for years. The guilt," he twiddled his hair between his thumb and forefinger. Nutty languidly examined her, and the shock daubing her pale features. "If you don't relinquish this hatred for me, I won't move on."
The redhead pursed her lips, her complexion growing a lovely reddened shade. "Because I will not accept your overly profuse apologies, you're blaming your decisions on me?" Her red eyes glinted with a nipping frost, a burning fire trapped behind the icy walls. "Because I choose not to forgive your actions, you're claiming it's my fault you won't advance in life? Is that it? That isn't..fair..That isn't fair. I just wanted to know why you chose that path, but you insult me by leaving me in the fault?"
He traveled the room in restlessness, browsing her knickknacks shamelessly. "Yup," she fisted her sweater at the blunt retaliation, "that's pretty much it. Whether you take it as being your fault or not, I'm just saying my mind." He turned a snow globe of central park in his hands. The little people inside the glass orb seemed happy. They didn't have a pressure tied around their ankle like a cement block, weighing him down..He glanced away from the orb and its charismatic citizens. "But that's beside the point, one I'll expand on later. I think I've had enough time to collect my thoughts, enough to give you a good explanation."
Flaky zipped her lips to avoid saying anything that would worsen the situation. Though, with how bad it was already, she couldn't see it getting much worse. Desiring to get his slovenly fingers off her items, she said, "Okay. What is it? You've already exceeded your time limit of five minutes, but why not continue since the ball's already rolling?" She intended it as sarcastic, and she should have known he'd take it literal.
"Thanks," he smiled; her eagerness waned. "So I'm simply going off the top of my head when I say these things in hopes of answering your questions, but if I don't, I'll condone interruptions." He switched the snowglobe for a portrait of her, a light smile tugging at his lips. "You're wondering what happened to the child I once was. That's what they all want to know. 'Nutty, why do you look like that?! You've grown so different, wha..'" Swiping his thumb over the admittedly dusty frame, he paused for effect.
"I already know the where your..old self has g-gone," she spoke dejectedly, faced with the thought that her friend wouldn't return, again. The doleful tone lingered, and by the way he raised an eyebrow, he wasn't very moved. Of course not..he wouldn't care if she yearned to have back. Her yearnings were past his concern. All he affirmed was his need to release the guilt, guilt she hadn't known he held. She did her best as to keep the crestfallen look at bay. Not yet. Not now. "You don't have to delve into that any further, I'm very aware of what happened to..it." It almost felt wrong to refer to his former persona as it, but he would be as equally bad, right? It would be as if it were another person, if she referred to it as him, which was depraved from her.
"I guess the word went around, even after I tried my best keeping low key," he shrugged. "But what else would I have learned from our—excuse me, that's a past tense—your friends?" At that she tensed. He was right, they were only her friends..now. "They're always looking for gossip, I remember being just like them. Well, whatever. For the best you don't want the details, I wouldn't want unsought memories resurfacing." His pacing stopped at the threadbare couch, hand running over the coarse material. What was with him and touching what she owned? Was he trying to obtain a little piece of everything before he..?
Since he had stepped foot into her accommodation, Flaky had squished herself between the wall and an invisible person. Not wanting to be near him, she crept along the living room perimeter, eyes on him from whatever angle she took. Should he go ballistic suddenly, though he was collected at the time, and threatened to harm her, she would have access to the various emergency buttons scattered across her apartment. If pressed, they would notify the police in a heartbeat. She had taken to purchasing these in the case of an intruder, an incident which rendered her helpless, or..Nutty. They could be handy if he became that unwanted visitor. Simply precautions.
She neared the apartment's only hallway, which led to the bath and bedroom. The button closest to her current spot was stashed in the lamp stand, on the second bottom drawer, hidden beneath a stack of papers and awaiting her touch.."Now I can thank you for something," she took the time to find what else was eating her. What did she want to know? Finally, she found it. "What I want to know is," her lips were dry, "why did you have to have a huge impact on my life? Why did you leave your mark..like welts..on me..?"
Nutty tilted his head, soaking in the question. "Why did I..impact your life?" he echoed inquiringly.
"Why can't I just leave you behind and move on? The others have, so why must I be the only one who's trapped?" Her stockinged feet muffled on the carpet, she carried herself before him. She would admit, she felt like a dwarf when around him. It was like a sudden growth of a foot resulted from the aforementioned, second puberty. They didn't share the same height anymore, and she begrudgingly had to tilt her head upwards to glare. How intimidating, having to look up at the person you were trying to castigate.
Nutty was unruffled by her desperate, yet vicious words. His functioning eye—a lime colour, like his hair—stared past her. His languish mien mirrored her listless one. She was almost going to say more, but his hand came up to pat down her hair. It wasn't an affectionate touch, rather, one of desire. Tender, even apologetic and regretful. The look he gave her was the look she'd seen on her old friend's face multiple times. The look she had been robbed of, replaced by one of drunkenness or paranoia. She missed that look.
"Why did you have to pick me to latch on to?" She didn't recognize her voice it sounded so small and feeble; she hadn't sounded that way since senior year. "Why couldn't you pick Petunia..or Giggles? What was so special about me? They were your friends too, weren't they?" She grabbed his wrist, stopping the patting. "You could have clung to them instead, and taken this stress off me. But I've forgotten, you're here to make my life worse..so of course you'd pick me.." Her sentence diminished, the petite female searching his face for answers. "Why..?"
The tables turned, and it was her turn to be at his mercy. With a quick flick of his wrist he had her grip off, and his slightly larger hand wrapped like a cobra around her wrist. In his grip, she knew he was restraining himself. Her arm was thin and without much muscle, barely any, and he could easily snap it before she uttered a shout. He could have broken her if he had been in another mood, but he checked himself. He didn't like seeing the bruises blemishing her flawless skin, didn't like being the cause of those discolourations. If her safety meant he had to hurt himself instead, he would do it. If that was what she wanted..
Nutty subtly tightened his hold on her, hearing the whine of discomfort before loosening it again. "You know why," he stated candidly. "You know why..because..you were the only person who bothered to see me as me, even after the first..incident. It was stupid of you to stay near, but thanks for that anyways." He laughed timidly. "You tried helping me, you did, but in the end..who's the real idiot? The one who continued with his offense, or the one who refused to let him sink? You could have let go..but you didn't. And that's why I kept returning. Because I knew you wouldn't turn away, until it was too late."
Flaky stared at his shirt, at the miles of ruddy cloth, and pondered on his words. She must be losing her mind if she found rationality in that. She did, though, so she must have gone insane. What he had said about it being her fault-that couldn't be true. But it was, it was beyond true. If she hadn't offered her support, he would be God knows where, but he sure as Hell wouldn't be bothering her. She wouldn't be waking in the early hours of morning to pounding on her door. None of these things would have happened if only she had turned away from the first push. "But," she curled her fingers, scraping him softly, "why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you destroying your body?" And taking me down with you?
"My logic is," he constricted her wrist again, indifference and cold amusement flitting in his apathetic orbs at her sharp cry. "We're all going to suffer eventually, why not do it now? Why should we wait until later on to feel the pain, to taste the tartness and..cry? We should feel pain now, to become immune when it comes later." Bleak humour coated the explanation, all while she trembled under his tightening grasp. "So I cause myself pain, and so I won't feel it, I..numb myself with these 'addictions.'"
"O-ow N-Nutty stop—!"
"And because you're my friend, I want you to become immune too. I don't want you to suffer when your time comes." He pinched her chin in his fingers, his thumb pushing on her lips to shush her. "In order to do that, you have to feel this agony as well. But you wouldn't willingly agree to that," Nutty muttered, irate. "So I have to cause you this pain on my own. I just..don't want to see you get hurt in the near future."
He was serious, this whack job was serious. Unsettled by his daunting stare, she tugged on her wrist. "Nutty," Flaky urgently said, speaking around his thumb, "we don't have to feel it now! We can feel it later, I mean, now is not a good time and—and—"
"No, I think it's best we do it now." He smiled sheepishly, observing her from under his unnaturally long eyelashes. With his sunken in cheeks, the bones in his face protruding and stretching skin, he almost had the appearance of a skeleton. How did she not notice before how..bad he looked? Fleeting in his stare was a haunted man, the boy who had grown too fast and become imprisoned in his own body. "We have to do it now."
Shaking, she reached up to touch his gaunt face. "We don't, really. Okay, how about you go home and we'll discuss this later?" Hurriedly, she added, "And I'll see what I can do about your..problems. Go home Nutty, I just want to sleep and—"
"You think my addiction is drugs? It's not. My addiction is one you would fear: Pain. My addiction is pain..and it'll be yours soon, too. Just give it a try, and you'll see why I can't live without it."
"Nutty..? Nutty what are you..stop..now..Nutty stop!—" And it was her scream that was the alarm clock to the residents of the apartments. A scream of pain, a scream which bonded their companionship again. A bitter end to a one sided friendship, but a refreshing start to an even tragic attachment.
I feel like this made no sense whatsoever, should I care? Nah, a short ending is mysterious and..I am lazy. I think I'm putting an end to requests for a bit, since I'm not very invested in this fandom anymore. Sorry, I'll try finishing my stories though. And I've recently become fond of the supernatural genre, so you might see some of that. I feel like my writing style changes with every new update of this.
I'm not putting the list anymore, too lazy. I'll just put that on a separate note.
Tami the Scene Queen: Word?
Also, to the guest who requested that FliqpyxFlaky lemon a while back..I am no longer comfortable with writing sex scenes, so you may have to change your request. Sorry for the bummer update.
...Crystal update too, I'm getting bored.
