Add it up:pt 7: Kiss it Goodbye
Aug. 17th, 2006 01:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonTheir skin glowed with muted shades of gold, orange and red. In the candlelight their shadows flickered across the walls, reached for one another, crawled forward and merged into each other, becoming a shifting rorshach from which emerged the outlines of arms and legs.
Lips like petals bloomed.
Scorched honey and heat lightning.
Her hands reshaping him in the darkness. Her fingers digging beneath the flesh, beneath muscle, blood and bone until they reached that center hidden from us all. There she carved her secret name for him.
His hands were fists on fire. Wrapped around her wrists and pinning her down. He became pure wolf song hunting slowly along the shores of her body. He spilled his death across her moon whispering her name in sweet defeat.
She pulls him tightly into her, feeling him tremble and she says
"Why are you such a Fuck Up Artist Adam?" There is no anger in Trish's voice. Just the exhaustion of a long string of disappointments.
"C'mon Trish that's not fair..."
"'Not Fair'? 'Not-fucking-fair'? You walk out of my life a year ago and you dare say 'not fair'! No explanations. No goodbyes. Nothing. I just woke up one morning and you were gone. For the first week I thought you were dead! Did you ever think for a minute how that affected me? Then I found out you were sleeping with that skank-ass-bitch whatherface..."
"Sarah."
"Yeah, Skank-ass-fucking-Sarah? C'mon Adam, you did not fall into bed with that cunt because she was giving you something I wasn't ... so why?"
Adam shrugs, looking awkwardly away from her and towards the street. At the cars. At the clouds and the trees. Anything but her eyes. When he feels Trish back hand him across the chops he barely registers the pain.
"Look at me when i'm talking to you!"
Adam looks.
"Why, God Damn it!?!?" she hisses as something terrible and ancient flashes behind her eyes.
"I was scared..." he trails off letting the statement hang between them on the night air.
"Of what?"
"You. Me. Us. I was scared of all of it. That night ... that last night when you looked inside me and I could just feel it... I could feel how small I was.. I could feel all that bad shit I was hiding since the moment I met you start stirring." He lights a cigarette with shaking hands, takes a long thoughtful drag and continues. "And I just knew. Knew then and there, that it was only a matter of time before one of my mistakes caught up with me."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's like you said. I'm a 'fuck up artist' Babe. Years ago up in Philly I fucked up big time. I started using what I was selling and came up short. I lied to cover my ass and that lie got a good friend of mine killed... "
Trish can taste the hurt off his words. The heartburn in his chest. The welling of tears dammed up and abandoned.
"...so I came down here. I laid low. Problem is I don't know how to lay low so..."
"...so you started dealing again."
"I gotta pay the bills somehow Trish. But anyway... that's the 'why' of it. I was afraid my past would catch up with me and you'd be hurt..."
"...well it's a good thing you just left in the middle of the night without word one or else I would've really been hurt."
"I'm sorry."
"Pfff... y'know that's the first time you've said that since you arrived."
"I didn't mean to come here. I told you that. I paniced. I saw that thing and the gun and it all just became a blur of instinct."
"...and you think that makes it better?"
"...?"
"Yeah exactly" Trish lights a cigarette and steps out off the front porch, standing there under the bed of gray clouds lit up by the occasional flash of lightning. It always feels like it's going to rain in Terminus during the Summer and of course it usually doesn't. It's all one long ceaseless pressure that never breaks...it just builds and builds...
"You owe me one. Right?" She says without turning around.
"Yeah... of course I mean..."
"So if I ask you to do me a favor you'll agree?"
"What favor?"
"Just answer the question."
"Uhhh...well yeah of course" then he adds cautiously "I mean if it's in my power to do so."
"It's not. But it is however within my power." She turns around and looks at him. "Forget me Adam."
"What?"
"Forget me."
"I don't know if I can but... I'll try."
"You agree."
"I said i'll try..."
"Do-you-agree? It's a yes or no question Adam."
"Yes." he sighs frustrated.
She steps forward and takes him by both hands. Leans up whispers in her ear. "Close your eyes...I love you."
She kisses him lightly on the lips and he suddenly remembers that night now. Vividly:
Their skin glowed with muted shades of gold, orange and red. In the candlelight their shadows flickered across the walls, reached for one another, crawled forward and merged into each other, becoming a shifting rorshach from which emerged the outlines of arms and legs.
It all begins to spin in his vision. The colors. The scent. The echo of her words. Spinning and bursting like fireworks across his mind. Strobe light memories going faster and faster. He's back with her that first night. She slips out of her jacket and dances next to him. Her eyes never leave his. The music speeds up. Their hands finding each other in the dark. The taste of her kiss. Faster and faster ... breaking up and fragmenting with the momentum... spinning and bursting and fading away.
She whispers in his ear:"Close your eyes... I love you."
Adam comes to with a start.
Smell of urine and burnt magick. He's in an alleyway slumped underneath a rather elaborate mural of anime robot girls dancing on bubble text graffiti that reads:OVERDOSE.
He leans over and throws up. Figures he must've passed out when he Shifted away from the Rookie and the Jack O'Shadows. He picks himself up. Fumbles and lights a cigarette. Then it hits him: "Why'd I call it a 'Jack O'Shadows?'". He tries to remember but all that comes up is this recurring dream he's been having for the last year or so.
A 'Trish dream' as he calls them.
Some nights they dance in a club. Some nights they snuggle in what must be your apartment and listen to the rain fall on the roof. Some nights... some nights are so sweet he wakes up crying because he's woken up. On good days he merely wakes up heart broken. Like he's lost something of immense value and cannot even remember what it was.
He trys to add it up. Figure out what it means. What his mind is trying to tell him and finally, finally he just shrugs it off. After all dream lover or no, one things for sure: Somebodys trying to set him up.
So Adam steps out onto the street, blinded by the morning light and begins slowly to plan out his next move. Chances are he was hot with the stink of the law on him now. He can't go back to the Claremont Hotel. Figure if someone knew enough to squeal a deal on him they'd definetly be able to pin down where he was holding up.
That's alright though. He's been in worst spots with less.
And so, with the memory of the dream fading under the narrative of his eye, Adam takes the first few steps back into his real life.
Lips like petals bloomed.
Scorched honey and heat lightning.
Her hands reshaping him in the darkness. Her fingers digging beneath the flesh, beneath muscle, blood and bone until they reached that center hidden from us all. There she carved her secret name for him.
His hands were fists on fire. Wrapped around her wrists and pinning her down. He became pure wolf song hunting slowly along the shores of her body. He spilled his death across her moon whispering her name in sweet defeat.
She pulls him tightly into her, feeling him tremble and she says
"Why are you such a Fuck Up Artist Adam?" There is no anger in Trish's voice. Just the exhaustion of a long string of disappointments.
"C'mon Trish that's not fair..."
"'Not Fair'? 'Not-fucking-fair'? You walk out of my life a year ago and you dare say 'not fair'! No explanations. No goodbyes. Nothing. I just woke up one morning and you were gone. For the first week I thought you were dead! Did you ever think for a minute how that affected me? Then I found out you were sleeping with that skank-ass-bitch whatherface..."
"Sarah."
"Yeah, Skank-ass-fucking-Sarah? C'mon Adam, you did not fall into bed with that cunt because she was giving you something I wasn't ... so why?"
Adam shrugs, looking awkwardly away from her and towards the street. At the cars. At the clouds and the trees. Anything but her eyes. When he feels Trish back hand him across the chops he barely registers the pain.
"Look at me when i'm talking to you!"
Adam looks.
"Why, God Damn it!?!?" she hisses as something terrible and ancient flashes behind her eyes.
"I was scared..." he trails off letting the statement hang between them on the night air.
"Of what?"
"You. Me. Us. I was scared of all of it. That night ... that last night when you looked inside me and I could just feel it... I could feel how small I was.. I could feel all that bad shit I was hiding since the moment I met you start stirring." He lights a cigarette with shaking hands, takes a long thoughtful drag and continues. "And I just knew. Knew then and there, that it was only a matter of time before one of my mistakes caught up with me."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's like you said. I'm a 'fuck up artist' Babe. Years ago up in Philly I fucked up big time. I started using what I was selling and came up short. I lied to cover my ass and that lie got a good friend of mine killed... "
Trish can taste the hurt off his words. The heartburn in his chest. The welling of tears dammed up and abandoned.
"...so I came down here. I laid low. Problem is I don't know how to lay low so..."
"...so you started dealing again."
"I gotta pay the bills somehow Trish. But anyway... that's the 'why' of it. I was afraid my past would catch up with me and you'd be hurt..."
"...well it's a good thing you just left in the middle of the night without word one or else I would've really been hurt."
"I'm sorry."
"Pfff... y'know that's the first time you've said that since you arrived."
"I didn't mean to come here. I told you that. I paniced. I saw that thing and the gun and it all just became a blur of instinct."
"...and you think that makes it better?"
"...?"
"Yeah exactly" Trish lights a cigarette and steps out off the front porch, standing there under the bed of gray clouds lit up by the occasional flash of lightning. It always feels like it's going to rain in Terminus during the Summer and of course it usually doesn't. It's all one long ceaseless pressure that never breaks...it just builds and builds...
"You owe me one. Right?" She says without turning around.
"Yeah... of course I mean..."
"So if I ask you to do me a favor you'll agree?"
"What favor?"
"Just answer the question."
"Uhhh...well yeah of course" then he adds cautiously "I mean if it's in my power to do so."
"It's not. But it is however within my power." She turns around and looks at him. "Forget me Adam."
"What?"
"Forget me."
"I don't know if I can but... I'll try."
"You agree."
"I said i'll try..."
"Do-you-agree? It's a yes or no question Adam."
"Yes." he sighs frustrated.
She steps forward and takes him by both hands. Leans up whispers in her ear. "Close your eyes...I love you."
She kisses him lightly on the lips and he suddenly remembers that night now. Vividly:
Their skin glowed with muted shades of gold, orange and red. In the candlelight their shadows flickered across the walls, reached for one another, crawled forward and merged into each other, becoming a shifting rorshach from which emerged the outlines of arms and legs.
It all begins to spin in his vision. The colors. The scent. The echo of her words. Spinning and bursting like fireworks across his mind. Strobe light memories going faster and faster. He's back with her that first night. She slips out of her jacket and dances next to him. Her eyes never leave his. The music speeds up. Their hands finding each other in the dark. The taste of her kiss. Faster and faster ... breaking up and fragmenting with the momentum... spinning and bursting and fading away.
She whispers in his ear:"Close your eyes... I love you."
Adam comes to with a start.
Smell of urine and burnt magick. He's in an alleyway slumped underneath a rather elaborate mural of anime robot girls dancing on bubble text graffiti that reads:OVERDOSE.
He leans over and throws up. Figures he must've passed out when he Shifted away from the Rookie and the Jack O'Shadows. He picks himself up. Fumbles and lights a cigarette. Then it hits him: "Why'd I call it a 'Jack O'Shadows?'". He tries to remember but all that comes up is this recurring dream he's been having for the last year or so.
A 'Trish dream' as he calls them.
Some nights they dance in a club. Some nights they snuggle in what must be your apartment and listen to the rain fall on the roof. Some nights... some nights are so sweet he wakes up crying because he's woken up. On good days he merely wakes up heart broken. Like he's lost something of immense value and cannot even remember what it was.
He trys to add it up. Figure out what it means. What his mind is trying to tell him and finally, finally he just shrugs it off. After all dream lover or no, one things for sure: Somebodys trying to set him up.
So Adam steps out onto the street, blinded by the morning light and begins slowly to plan out his next move. Chances are he was hot with the stink of the law on him now. He can't go back to the Claremont Hotel. Figure if someone knew enough to squeal a deal on him they'd definetly be able to pin down where he was holding up.
That's alright though. He's been in worst spots with less.
And so, with the memory of the dream fading under the narrative of his eye, Adam takes the first few steps back into his real life.
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no subject
on 2006-08-17 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-08-17 06:45 pm (UTC)I'd like to think of my 'Adam' stuff as my imaginary comic book series where I get to try and see if I can mix Neil Gaiman with Mickey Spilane and add a dash of internet fueled occult esoterism to the mix in order to tell storys of love, sex, magick and mystery in a mythical 21st century Bible belt metropolis.
It's not my best stuff but it's a lot of fun to write.
no subject
on 2006-08-17 07:06 pm (UTC)I can see this as a comic without any trouble at all. I would be curious to know what you thought your best stuff was, though.
no subject
on 2006-08-18 01:06 pm (UTC)I just took out my handy-dandy girl scout issued compass and smashed it to smitereens with a sledge hammer. With the this-ways, that-ways, up, downs, overs, and unders in this story, it whacked out on me and wouldn't work anymore! It's puny little non-brain couldn't keep up with your superior directionality. Thanks for the ride. This was Space Mountainish... and it doesn't get better than that!!!
xxx