#x | david

[untestxd]

“watch it, tibbs. that big mouth is gonna get you in trouble.”

ᴏʜ, ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇs.

There’s no need for words just yet.; that was half the thrill of it. Coy expression dances on the aforementioned yap shadowed by the dark and dingy corridor. Scott had thrown the bait with off-hand remark made in the orderly’s direction as they had passed by chance on the stairwell. It had become a well-rehearsed performance at this point, the playful spark in dull, pale features igniting hollow lips aglow with smile.

Scott’s ears were still ringing in the aftermath of screaming bass and wailing guitar, throat feeling rough and raw after he pulled off one hell of show. Even for them, it had been good. The air that night had been sheer electric, wired sparks shooting through his blood with exquisite energy. He hadn’t even needed to get that high to enjoy the night so far. But that’s where the come down always reared its ugly head. Coming off the stage, intergalactic traveller touching ground back home. No longer star amongst stars; fallen comet nothing more than a burning lump of rock. But not for much longer. Especially now he had fallen into such opportune entanglement.

Digits play clumsily with the zip on David’s jacket, only to cue hand swatting it away. Back and forth, back and forth. They knew the drill by now. Bright eyes darken a little as the linger on the shorter man’s Glasgow grin. He moves the hand upwards, tugging very gentle, idly at the other’s shirt. That familiar scent of the other so palpable even amongst their awful surroundings. It was familiar, intoxicating.

Lips went to part to say something else, only for the door behind them to open as one of the band’s roadies lugged a box of t-shirts down the stairs to wherever they were gonna go. As soon as the click of the door handle echoed in the dark hallway, Scott’s hand retracted, ducking behind his mop of messy hair in a vague attempt to look casual. The faceless man didn’t seem to even notice as he trailed his way down the stairs. The guitarist bit his lips in a grin, eyes meeting with the orderly’s again.

How many more seconds could they steal away like this? How long could they keep this up before they had to talk about it? How many more excuses could Scott make for needing to see him?

“You were saying?” He finally spoke, fighting a laugh as he couldn’t fight that pull towards him. Like a star, a bright centre of gravity pulling him in. But he stopped, just centimetres away from the the other; the astronaut anchoring himself back to Earth. But how much he longed to be amongst those constellations again. He could taste David on his breath already, not even having to make contact to drink in the warmth of that tobacco ever-present on his tongue. Half-closed lids drowned in his visage, just daring the other to make the move.

“What kind of trouble were you thinking of….?”

@blendintowalls

[untestxd]

“So you know I’ve been working on this little case now for a few weeks.    Cops are going missing, more criminal’s corpses are being found     splayed out all over the joint. What little’s left of them anyway.     And despite that, there’s still been no sign of that pussy, Adam.    Guess he must be all mangled up somewhere fuckin’ dreadful.     Figures that much.    But that’s why we’re here today. One thing I never told you about Adam?     There’s two of them. Like the fucking Shining. Some Freaky Friday shit;     he’s a twin. This here is a picture of David. Some tweaker who works       over at the hospital our Dear Johnny boy was treated at.      This shit’s all connected, I tell you. ---- Anyway, why am I even bothering      with that right now? So what, he had a brother? Well get this----       not long before Adam went missing, Jigsaw got his bloody little hands       all over him too. But he survived. Bastard’s seen some fucked up shit,      but it turns out it’s just back to business as usual.      So that’s why we’re here. We’re gonna hear first hand what kinda          shit it takes to fuckin’ survive one of these games, and maybe get         some sorta idea on how these are all connected. 

                                              Which fucking sucks, because I can’t                                                  stand the guy.”   

A disgustingly satisfied smirk plasters its way across smug features as Scott reviews the footage on his camcorder. It had been placed up on the dashboard of his car- and the lighting looked pretty good, if  he did say so himself. After one more watch through, he closes the  scuffed up silver frame of the screen with a gentle click and steps out of his car. Cigarette dangling from his lip, like some sort of self-imaged cowboy, he saddled up to the orderly’s apartment and hit record as he knocked on the door.

         ‘Hey David. It’s me. Scott Tibbs. Wrath of the Gods, buddy.            I’m here to talk about Jigsaw.”

[ᴛʜᴇ sᴄᴏᴛᴛ ᴛɪʙʙs ᴅᴏᴄᴜᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʀʏ, ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟶.𝟻] / @blendintowalls

[untestxd]

// ᴛᴇsᴛᴇᴅ for Đ₳VłĐ // @blendintowalls

He could feel his legs shaking as he ascended the staircase. It felt like eternity trudging his corpse up each flight.  Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. Why did this fucker have to live on such a high floor? With each effort made, each landing he came to, he could feel the nausea resting in his stomach bubbling away with more and more fury. Acid burning away in his lungs, that awful stretch and pull of stale air scratching its way through his throat and out through his nostrils. Scott didn’t even know what he was meant to expect when he would finally reach David’s door. It had been months since the last he had seen the orderly, and even then it wasn’t like the two of them had parted on civil terms. Had they ever? The higher he climbed, the louder that little, silent, voice in the back of the guitarist’s head screamed at him to turn back. This wasn’t going to change anything, this wasn’t going to fix anything. Was he even trying to fix anything?

He had been so sure that this would be a good idea when he first penned the letter. The piece of paper torn from his notebook was held tight in the hand unoccupied by the rusty railing of the building’s handrail. Would David take the time to even read this now? Did David…even know what had happened to Scott?

His breath was wheezy, body far thinner and frailer now than it had been just a few months prior. That raggedy, dirty mane of hair had been shaved back to a neat buzz; far easier to manage on days he couldn’t pull himself out of bed at all. He took gentle breaths, contending with both the effort of walking up the stairs and the anxiety manifesting itself hot and wicked in his chest. The elevator had to be broken on the day he showed up.

At least he didn’t have to say anything, that choice had been taken from him regardless. David didn’t get to hear the waver in his voice, the guilt in his tone. But maybe he would see it in the shake etchings of his scrawl, the indecisive curve and tilt of each letter blotted onto the crumpled page. His palms was sweating, so was his forehead. Scott took a moment to stop, back resting against the faded, paint-peeling wall and wiped his hand on his jeans, looking over the writing again. He should go back. No. He had come this far, right? If he backed away now, what did that say about him? What did that say about what had happened to him?

Tired eyes scanned over the black cursive resting uneasy between lines, proof-reading just once more to make sure he hadn’t fucked up too much. The musician’s other hand left the cold, metal railing to reach up to his neck. Digits traced over the brilliant purples, blues, and pinks of bruising and surgical scars that strangled the skin- careful not to agitate anymore than needed.

𝘋𝘢𝘷𝘦,  𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘪𝘵’𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰.   𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵’𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘻𝘦. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘈𝘥𝘢𝘮. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧𝘧. 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰. 𝘈 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦. 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

He bit down on his lip, mind racing as he tried to think of another way to phrase his words- but nothing came to him. He looked towards the last rise of stairs and took a moment to close his eyes. Breathe. Gentle breaths. Just breathe. Still here.

Before he knew it, his feet had carried him to David’s door. Or at least, the door David last lived at. Maybe he should have called ahead. He really should have messaged ahead. He took a minute to work himself up, before finally bringing his fist to the door and knocking against the wood. The seconds spent into the afterbirth of the echo felt like agony, but all he could do was wait.

[untestxd]

❛  don’t  act  like  you  know  me .  ❜

Perhaps the move had been one too familiar. ₥łSJɄĐ₲Ɇ₥Ɇ₦₮.

Any smile that had been planted on the guitarists features had slipped away as soon as the other had spoken, quickly occupying his lips with his drink instead to mask any embarrassment. The defences rose with a scoff after he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. But the words still struggled to catch up. Say something funny, something cruel, something insulting. Anything. QɄł₵₭

"ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ." He decides on, eyes squinting a little as he decides to look David over- sizing him up. "Don't even know why I'm talking to you. ₣Ʉ₵₭ł₦₲ ₱ØSɆⱤ."

(There, that showed him. )

@blendintowalls

[abottomfeederjustlikeme]

❛  i  still  need  you .  ❜

He bit back a snarky comment. It took everything in him to do so, and he could have sworn he tasted iron on his tongue with the  mere effort. But he held it back.  It was so strange to look at David like this. To see a face, so identical to his own, yet still unable to recognise it. That wide-eyed sadness, those glazed over pools daring to overflow at just the slightest push. Was this how people saw him too?  He watched as the cigarette trembled between his twin’s fingers, unable to hide the heart-break in his own features as he tried to think of what to say. What the fuck do you say to that? Adam had risen from his seat, they had been in the fray of yet another stupid argument. And just as it always happened, Adam had gotten too angry too fast over a detail so minute, and he had gotten ready to leave. What was it about David that flared up that rage in him? Was it the regret of how distant they had become in their older  years? Or the frustration of knowing that they really hadn’t changed much at all. That Adam hadn’t changed. His legs felt like lead, no longer able to march away from the other as those four little words struck him like a bullet. The anger was still clear in his eyes, but his brother’s incantation had worked and Adam sat himself back down. He ran a hand through his mess of dark hair. “No you don’t.” He found it in him to huff out, lifting his head to peer out from his hands. They instead moved to his back pocket, hands fumbling slowly to find his wallet. “You don’t... need me.”