[ the first time Reece got roofied at a party wasn't fun. Drove him away from drugs altogether. ]
"Hey, let's do some magic stuff, snort a little snuff, everyone I know has magic powers." - Everyone I know has magic powers, Yellow Bile
HEAVY TW : ⚠️ Drug use, being drugged, implied attempt of COCSA, mentions of SA. Please do not read if any of these subjects heavily trigger you.
TW : ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, DRUGGING
-- 1964
Reece had done drugs. Of course he had. All his friends were as rich as him, and could get their hands on designer drugs like coke or ecstasy with a snap of their fingers. Reece had partaken, and he hadn't minded it.
Nothing about tonight seemed different. It was a party like any other, one in a rich house where the floors seemed way too clean for so many 18 year olds to be humping each other and screaming Billy Joel.
These were the types of parties where Reece just sat back and drank. He wasn't much of a dancer, and he resented entertaining small talk-- so there wasn't much for him to do other than sit around and talk to his friends.
"Reece!" A familiar voice called out, and Reece squinted into the crowd as he watched Bob Sheldon approach him.
"Bob," He responded, voice more relaxed than it was with most people. Bob was already completely drunk, and Reece tensed ever so slightly as the drunk 17-year-old slouched against him.
"Reece, Reecie-" Bob gagged and put a hand in front of his mouth, bracing himself to puke, "Have you seen Randy..? Or Sher..-"
As Bob gagged again, Reece's eyes widened and a shiver ran up his spine. He didn't need or want to watch the boy throw up because of his own bad decisions.
"Okay, get up, we're going to the restroom." Reece muttered, lifting Bob by the shoulder and guiding him into the bathroom at a wobbly pace.
-+-+-
After finishing up helping Bob in the washroom, Reese made sure someone drove the poor boy home. Usually, he'd do it himself, but he was already too intoxicated to drive, and his dad wasn't out on duty that night to nepotism-him out of a ticket.
Watching Randy's car drive out into the night, Reese remembered that he had left his drink at the bar and mentally cursed himself. He was sure someone at this damn party had drunk the rest of his whiskey while he was gone.
But to his-- welcome-- surprise, the glass of whiskey was sat right in the same spot he left it, completely full- if not topped off.
As he reached for the glass a feeling of dread overwhelmed him. It was a kind of dread he'd never felt before. Though, to be fair, he didn't feel much often to begin with.
Some girl across the room wouldn't take her eyes off him, which didn't help with the weird feeling of dread creeping up his back that only got worse the longer he stood there.
He shook it off and took a sip from the drink.
It was bitter, more bitter than usual, and Reece placed the glass back down on the table, shoving it across the bar.
"Probably expired," He huffed, wiping his mouth with his wrist. Can alcohol even expire? He needed some air.
As he stepped out of the house, he was suddenly struck with a dizzy, nauseous feeling. His hand went to his head as he leaned back against the front door.
He groaned, what was wrong with that whiskey?
His breathing felt shallow and his vision became blurry, the door wasn't doing much to help him feel stable-- and the fact that he suddenly felt lighter wasn't helping either.
Was he tripping? Seriously tripping? Nothing he'd ever taken before had ever made him feel like this, and he didn't like it. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and the mere fact he could feel at all was beginning to freak him out.
All the noise from inside the house blurred into a conglomerate of vowels and squeaks, movement around him became overwhelming and he flinched away from the first person who approached him, not even knowing who they were.
A dainty hand wrapped around his wrist, with nails that gently dug into the skin of his wrist that poked out from his sleeve.
He could hear her speaking, but every word blurred into one sound as she left him back into the house.
He stumbled back into the partt behind her, not even sure where he was, or who she was for that matter. Her hair was... Blonde? Brown? Red..?
She gently laid him down on the couch, before climbing atop him.
He didn't like this, no. No he really didn't like this.
Her hands traveled to the top of his shirt to undo the buttons, and he felt helpless for the first time in his life as his brain shut off and everything blurred to black.
-+-+- (use of the word rape in this next paragraph)
A splash of water woke Reece up on the cold driveway of the house,
"Jesus fucking Christ, Reece-" a familiar voice spoke out through the ringing in Reece's ears. "Get up, get up, that girl almost fucking raped you."
"Rusty?.." Reece coughed.
"Yeah, Rusty, dumbass. Get up." The other huffed as he pulled Reece up by his shoulders, "You cant-" he let out a frustrated noise as he lifted the other from the floor, "You can't just drink whatever someone hands you.."
Reece didn't speak. He leaned against Rusty while his legs shook beneath him, torturously holding back tears as he gripped the opening of Rusty's leather coat.
Rusty hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around Reece, holding him up.
"Do you need a drive?" He asked quietly.
Reece nodded, his ears still ringing as his brain pounded against his skull.
[ Reece had never felt this way for someone before. (TW : mentions of sex/sexual topics]
"I'm drowning. There is no sign of land. You are going down with me, hand in unlovable hand. And I hope you die, I hope we both die." - No Children, the mountain goats
Ft Reece Burnhum and Rusty Wally ( @tiredv0idd )
-- Quiet room. Nothing but the soft sound of breathing and the jukebox music from downstairs in Buck's bar.
Reece didn't smoke a lot. He often said it was revolting, but he couldn't ignore how good it felt to let warm smoke fill his lungs after sex. He tilted his head back and let the smoke spill from his lips, opening his eyes just a bit to watch the smoke curl into the ceiling fan.
"Mm. Give me some." Rusty butted in, sitting down beside where Reece was laying on the bed. The bed sunk under the new weight, and Reece's head tilted slightly with the new bend in the mattress.
"You can have it," Reece said, sitting up as he handed the cigarette to the boy. He leaned against Rusty, his face squishing against his bare shoulder. He kissed it, mentally wishing he hadn't immediately after.
He hated Rusty. He thought.
Reece looked up at the boy's face, taking in his features and watching the way the Tabasco smoke creaked and slipped from his lips. He physically felt his heart soften.
He hated that he didn't hate him.
"You're pathetic." He muttered, but there was no bite in his voice. Rusty chuckled as he stubbed out the cigarette before turning slightly and cupping Reece's face in his hand.
"You love me." He grinned. That stupid, dickish, shit eating grin. Reece felt his face flush as he shoved Rusty's hand off of him.
"You're such a faggot."
"You're not denying it."
Reece scoffed and laid back down, putting a hand on his stomach and staring at the ceiling as his curly hair sprawled out against the pillow. His heart was racing and he hated it. He hated feeling anything. Especially this. And it only ever happened around Rusty. Rusty lifted his legs up onto the bed, scooching back and leaning back on his forearm to look Reece in the eyes.
"Awh, princess." He teased.
"Don't call me that." Reece muttered, his eyes scraping over Rusty's shoulders and taking it all in. His freckles, the cigarette burns (from Reece himself) and the way his pale skin looked warmer in the dim light of his bedside lamp. He wondered if Rusty was looking at him like that too, feeling the same things.
Reece reached up, his palm gently sliding over Rusty's neck to cup the back of his hair. His hair is greasy, but Reece doesn't hate to touch it. It's all over the place, messy and frizzy, and for once Reece doesn't mind the mess.
Rusty freezes and his eyes immediately go to Reece's own, noticing how they were almost completely avoiding Rusty's gaze. But not on purpose.
The tension in the air thickened, you could cut a knife through it. But as their gazes met Reece's grip tightened slightly, like he had just cut himself on the other's messy hair. He pulled his hand back, looking away from Rusty with knitted eyebrows. Like he was a pouting child or something.
Rusty felt disappointment squeeze at his chest, he sighed a little bit before sitting up completely and staring at the door.
"I'm tired." Reece said simply, and Rusty looked down at him for just a minute before turning over and clicking off the lamp on his But as they laid in the silence room, Reece gently reached over and put his arm across Rusty's stomach. Rusty opened his eyes just for a moment, trying to trace out the boy's silhouette in the dark as butterflies swirled in his stomach. table.
Reece and Rusty never "cuddled" when Reece stayed the night. Reece explained it away with not wanting to get too hot before he slept, or wanting freedom to move. But both of them, secretly, knew that it was because Reece was too scared to open up any further to Rusty than they were. He wasn't a fag, Reece would tell himself. This is just for pleasure.
But when he looked over at Rusty across the bar on a random night, or felt his teeth dig into his skin, he knew that he was lying to himself.
But as they laid in the silence room, Reece gently reached over and put his arm across Rusty's stomach. Rusty opened his eyes just for a moment, trying to trace out the boy's silhouette in the dark as butterflies swirled in his stomach.
"Goodnight." Reece said softly.
There was a beat of silence before Rusty closed his eyes again, "G'night."
