i'll drink to that }} teddy + justice
Oct 23, 2018 12:49:57 GMT -5
Post by arx!! on Oct 23, 2018 12:49:57 GMT -5
justice
Sometimes it gets too quiet. I remember a time when I was young and watching the sun sink over the horizon and all I could hear was crickets and frogs and cicadas—I used to love the silence. Away from my parents yelling, away from my siblings flying fists, away from the endless drone of a Game's replay on television. I used to love the quiet; it's hard to believe that now.
I've emptied my drink for what feels like only the second time tonight, but I know it's been longer because the clock points it's hands at the twelve and I distinctly remember leaving dinner at five. "Fill 'er up," I grin, glass in the air. Haven't had enough to drown out the silence yet.
"You hear their naming a brand after you?" I cock my head to the side, eyes squinted, face full of inquisition. The guy nods, refilling my cup.
"Justice's Jameson." I don't think it's funny, but I can't stop laughing. I've got tears in my eyes as my face falls to the bar.
I wake up and the clock says it's two. My head spins as I lift it, string of saliva following me as I go. I blink a few times, eyes adjusting to the neon as my fingers wrap around an unattended glass. Crystal cold beneath my fingers, but the whiskey burns as I swallow it down. My vision swirls and jolts until I recognize an empty bar-
Plus Teddy Ursa.
Shit.
I wonder about leaving. I wonder about saying nothing. I wonder about drinking until I pass out again. I've always hated this, talking to other victors. It always felt serious. Too serious. Too much reality and not enough- just-
Talking about it seemed pointless. But even if I simply sat here quietly and he didn't say a word, I'd still feel it. That pain. The shared kind. Being so close to someone who just fucking gets it.
I hate it.
"What's your vice?" I ask, turning towards him with a grin. "Pretty sure I'm drinking bleach."
I almost forgot to laugh to make it a joke.
I've emptied my drink for what feels like only the second time tonight, but I know it's been longer because the clock points it's hands at the twelve and I distinctly remember leaving dinner at five. "Fill 'er up," I grin, glass in the air. Haven't had enough to drown out the silence yet.
"You hear their naming a brand after you?" I cock my head to the side, eyes squinted, face full of inquisition. The guy nods, refilling my cup.
"Justice's Jameson." I don't think it's funny, but I can't stop laughing. I've got tears in my eyes as my face falls to the bar.
I wake up and the clock says it's two. My head spins as I lift it, string of saliva following me as I go. I blink a few times, eyes adjusting to the neon as my fingers wrap around an unattended glass. Crystal cold beneath my fingers, but the whiskey burns as I swallow it down. My vision swirls and jolts until I recognize an empty bar-
Plus Teddy Ursa.
Shit.
I wonder about leaving. I wonder about saying nothing. I wonder about drinking until I pass out again. I've always hated this, talking to other victors. It always felt serious. Too serious. Too much reality and not enough- just-
Talking about it seemed pointless. But even if I simply sat here quietly and he didn't say a word, I'd still feel it. That pain. The shared kind. Being so close to someone who just fucking gets it.
I hate it.
"What's your vice?" I ask, turning towards him with a grin. "Pretty sure I'm drinking bleach."
I almost forgot to laugh to make it a joke.
now i'm full
of r u m
a n d
regret
⋆
of r u m
a n d
regret
⋆