Ingrained habits are hard to shake. Captain has a few, most of then nasty and a little self-destructive, but theyāre his and he probably isnāt going to look into righting them anytime soon.Ā
One habit that isnāt completelyĀ bad stems from childhood, a father dedicated to the military and absolute physical perfection drags his son out every morning, every other evening, for punishments, for some kind of sick and twisted fun, to exercise.Ā
They would go to the gym. They jog around the block over and over and over again. He learned just how to push himself to the brink. Captain learned where the brink was.Ā
And sometimes he crosses it.Ā
The halls are empty at this time in the morning and his t-shirt is sticking to his back and god, was his ankle throbbing.Ā
This is what he gets. This is exactly what he gets for drinking late and trying to sweat through a hangover the morning after.Ā
A sprained ankle.Ā
āOnly me.ā Captain hisses, taking another limping step, small and wincing with a hand braced heavily on the wall.Ā
The lazy post-haze of a good fuck is always satisfying. Even when the sex is terrible, itās good. Thereās just something about laying sprawled out on each other in bed, out of breath and needs met.
There is little that can beat it.Ā
Heās got his fingers tangled in her hair, half asleep in the low breeze of his little fan, some JapaneseĀ ballad station playing in the background. Itās late, sometimes around the morning hours.Ā
āāM hungry.ā Voice hoarse from disuse for a number of hours, he finally pipes up. The sheet slips a little as he turns on his side, drags her closer into his arms to mumble against her hair.Ā
He always got hungry a few hours after.Ā āLetās go get somethinā to eat.āĀ
Far from the doting dad and obnoxious parent of his free days, Captain has regressed to an almost new persona in this game. Free to live years he never was allowed under a strict father. He presents himself in a gritty, ādo what he wants, do who he wantsā sort of way.Ā
One am. Tuesday. He had the next day off from the base and a boy settled into his couch.Ā
It was raining. Hard.Ā
āItās 1:11.ā Firecracker leaned against the arm of the couch, looking the boy over with pursed lips. He seemed like he wasnāt gooing anywhere.Ā āBut then again, my clock is fast so itās probably only one.ā
Small talk, something idle to fill the quite air between them. Quite, but not uncomfortable. If he was being completely honest, he didnāt want the other boy to go even. It was harder to sleep during rainstorms and lord knows he hasnāt been getting a decent amount of rest.Ā
(He never really did. Itās not a newĀ thing, but itās always a little better with someone comforting near him.)Ā
āAre you going to stay?ā It was a needless question with an obvious answer.Ā āOr are you too afraid to be alone in this storm.ā The teasing didnāt quite meet his eyes and it was also an unsaid fact that it wasnāt only Zero who didnāt want to be alone.Ā āShould I open a bottle of wine?ā Because what else does one say? @zeroblck
Making enemies is all good and fun in the everyday grind of things when there really isnāt anything else to do, but when it comes down to it, itās quite detrimental to the whole scheme of things.Ā
It might be somewhat entertaining to egg the other boy on when theyāre just passing each other-- cause some trouble when thereās nothing nipping at their heels, but when theyāre smack dab in the middle of the hot, hot city with men breathing down their necks-- men with gunsĀ and an intent to kill.Ā
He isnāt finding it all too enjoyable right now.Ā
āListen.ā He spits at the younger, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Slamming into each other wasnāt ideal nor was the little tussle that ensured or the weighty fact that any minute they could be down on the ground and out for the count because they spent a little too much time at each otherās throats.Ā āI aināt gonna let my hatred for you,ā and what a hatred it was.Ā ākill me today.āĀ
He really didnāt care to die because of a bad taste in his mouth.Ā
āSo you either come with me or fucking get caught between two dickheads willing to shoot.ā @aceblck
His hands shake as he grips the edge of the bathroom sink. Heās in some public park bathroom and this isnāt right. He doesnāt feel right.Ā
The stale water from the tap does nothing to clear his head. Firecracker knows what he needs to do, itās just getting his body to do it. Got he hates when the collective pulls shit like this on him. Heās a good sport, sure, but this just isnāt playing fair.Ā
āFuck.āĀ
Alright, alright. Deep breath in and deep breath out. One more-- in and out. Right, he had it. Just an inhale--Ā
āFuck. Iām gonna be sick.ā This really wasnāt playing fair. He canāt spend too much time here, he had to move or else heās dead meat and Firecracker isnāt about to kick the bucket yet.Ā
He has too much going for him. So with gritted teeth and a less than steel will, he pushes himself away from the sink, raked a hand through his hair and takes a peek at himself in the mirror. Brutal. He looks brutal with his sweaty complexion and drugged out look.Ā
Nothing much he can do about it now, however. He has to move. He has to.Ā
One very last deep breath and heās shouldering his way through the door, squinting in the too bright sunshine and trying his damnedest to take stock of where he is. He knows itās around here. He knows.Ā
(He knows a lot of things, but itās hard to focus on them right now with his hands still shaking and the breath coming short from his lungs.)Ā
But he needs to find his cylinder and fast because that gunshot was close and he isnāt about to meet his end at the hands of some mindless thug. He has too much to live for.Ā
A shaky deep breath and heās ducking his head, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking off in the first direction that seems like a good idea.Ā
--------------------
āThis is--ā A deep gasp for air.Ā āso fucked up. This is fucked--ā inhale.Ā āup.āĀ
Exhale.Ā
The guy chasing him, the guy with a gunĀ chasing him isnāt in the immediateĀ vicinity anymore-- at least. But this would all be so, soĀ much easier if he had his damn weapon. Instead of running until his lungs were burning and his vision was hazy, he could have skidded on his heel, turned and faced the guy-- could have introduced his skull to the metal of a bat.Ā
But no. He had to play this fuckingĀ game. This shit show of a game that didnāt even give him a single chance. Not one-- a totally unfair and dirty, real world game.Ā
What assholes.Ā
āAre you fucking kidding me.āĀ
What assholes.Ā
There, across the street from the alleyway, heās got himself ducked into is a cute little pet shop, really quaint. And right int he front window, wrapped in a kittenās pawās is his cylinder.Ā
Do you know that George Washington died in 1799 which is 25 years before the first dinosaur was classified, which means that George Washington never knew about the dinos. That fact alone devastates me.Ā
For more kool ā¢ history facts.Ā
Actually, thereās no historical facts, just me. Hey, what's up my kiddos.Ā
Iām Lacie and this is Firecracker, formerly knows as Yoongi. Sorry Iāve taken so long to get around this. Work has been quite the stressor for me lately. But! Here I am with this... mess.Ā
he used to beĀ minĀ yoongi.Ā
rn heās on Vermillion and heās.... specialĀ
basically, he hates the games but he loves themĀ
it lets him get his rage out and he has... a lotĀ
but like it took him away from his daughter so like fuck the collective but like not rllyĀ
he works on an army base as the air hanger receptionist basicallyĀ
and he hates it.Ā
wonāt hesitate to fuck u upĀ
and doesnāt play well with othersĀ
unless itās to his gain
heās basically an asshole pls bewareĀ
but yu my twitter is @OGotcofucker and hit me up eeyyyĀ water drop emoji water drop emoji winky emoji winky emoji winky emoji eggplant emoji ok sign emoji ok sign emojiĀ
