.:Busted {W A S T E D} Justified:. [Semper]

[Kire]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: 04070C; border: D4DEE0 solid 2px; width: 500px; height: 181px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 13px 13px;][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true] Does, Says, Thinks, Accented, (Comments) Once there was a time When we could learn All the simple pleasantries A follower should yearn Now all that I can do is watch them burn The bottle in his hand was empty, (the last of the liquid it had contained making its way down his esophagus as he stared at the lip of the bottle,) his eyes without any expression. His mind was numbed, but the pain still remained fresh like a gash that wouldn't stop bleeding. The variety of bottles strewn around him gave insight to the fact that he was beyond drunk. Grimly he opened his hand and the bottle he clutched slipped from between his fingers, clunking onto the floor and chinking against another empty glass as it did. He worked his jaw for a moment, (staring straight ahead while his head lolled and his eyelids drooped.) The clink of more bottles knocking together caused his stupor to suck back and leave him with enough consciousness to reach forward and grab another beer from the pack on the table in front of him. He had been here for hours, starting with a sense of bitter melancholy and a single beer. It had tasted sweet on his tongue, (mouthful after mouthful of light relief to sooth a sore spot,) but it was gone too soon. The small bruise he had originally thought it was now felt like a scrape, and the blood oozed slowly as he grabbed another beer. After the third bottle he just grabbed two cases of beer and set them on the table in front of him. No longer did it feel like a minor wound, and the blood flowed as fast out of him as the alcohol flowed in. Soon he had emptied one of the cases, (the bottles laying around him like a destroyed fort,) and he felt the familiar buzz in the back of his mind. It wasn't enough though, it seemed with each drink he found that the wound was actually worse than he thought and soon he realized it could kill him. He would just keep bleeding and bleeding until he no longer had blood in his veins, but alcohol. He would sit in the pool of his own blood, (to the point where life was blurry and meant nothing because it was nothing anymore and he could just take one more sip and it would all be over.) But he wasn't there yet - he was still bleeding, he was still breathing, and he was certainly still drinking. It was taking so much effort to not fall asleep, (but to close his eyes and slip into sleep would devoid from his purpose and leave him without the understanding he had come to.) He was not like the others, with all of the times he had drank with them and slept with any lady he could get his paws on he thought he was but he wasn't. He never was, and there was more to him than he had ever suspected. It was in the ways his eyes slid from a girl to stare at her boyfriend, there was not jealousy in his heart but something else. He had been so blind to ignore it, (and now the drinks that littered the floor around him had opened his eyes to what he truly was.) It was no wonder why guys avoided him, now he understood it was not fear that he would take their girlfriends or ruin their chances with a girl. They didn't want to give him the opportunity to be who he was, ironic that he didn't even know who he was so he couldn't let himself do something he didn't know he wanted to. The thought had risen when he was half into his sixth beer, (a foggy memory that was faded from time.) It was when he was fourteen, his best friend had tripped and fallen, both of them managing to tumble over as they landed on each other. For a moment they had scrabbled to get up, but their eyes had met. A breath later they looked away and had gotten up, laughing about it and pretending the moment had never happened. How life had changed from then, but now he understood why it had happened. (What were the chances that two friends both found they were gay - in an instant they both knew but chose to forget.) Maybe they should meet again, it had been two years since they had last seen each other and now seemed like a good time. Even drunk, Kody felt the time was now and he got up, stumbling to grab his hoodie and pulling the hood over his head to shade his bloodshot eyes. Grabbing the last beer off the table, (not wanting it to go to waste or to be found by his dad - even when the thirteen other bottles were sign enough,) he popped off the cap and took a swig. Tottering to the door, he fumbled with his boots and gave up tying them so he just stuffed his feet in and tucked the laces into the tops. He almost fell over when he tried to stand, landing heavily against the wall with a grunt as he blearily looked up the stairs. Thankfully his dad was a heavy sleeper, else wise he would have certainly been caught by now. It was also good that he could hold his liquor - no throwing up for Kody, (not even when it might have been better for him to expel the alcohol that flooded his system.) Tripping down the street and flailing in a poor attempt to stay upright, (the few lights that were on caused huge halos to burst into his vision and blind him more than the alcohol already had.) One such light caused him to not see a pothole and he didn't even realize that he was falling until his cheek smacked the street. Blinking dazedly, he lay there in a drunken stupor for a moment before floundering to get up. The effort it took to get up almost made him give up and just let himself lay back down on the cool, hard ground but the thought of Bull drew him up and he blundered back on his way. Numerous trips and falls happened on his walk, (each time he lay for a moment just staring blankly before somehow picking himself up and tumbling forward again.) Finally he found where he was headed, the house that he wanted to see and knock on the door and collapse inside while the occupant came really close and they finally let each other know that they hadn't forgotten. He tripped up the walkway, nearly crashing down on the few steps leading to the door in his eager drunkenness. He raised a fist, (readying to hit it against the door until someone opened it.) Tipping to one side and wobbling to remain vertical, he drew back his fist and pressed his other hand against the door to steady himself before swinging his hand forward to collide with the door in a hollow thud. About to smack the door a second time he blanched at a faint rustling that managed to penetrate the blankness of his mind. Blinking twice, he gave a lopsided shrug and slammed his fist into the door again. (Distantly, he realized the rustling was a lot louder than he had thought and he choked on a shout as he was grabbed from behind.) The hand on his waist gripped him as the arm that circled him flexed to lift him off of his feet. Fuzzy thoughts about fighting the person broke into his mind, and he tried to pound at his captor. Each blow was weak, so light that there wasn't even a repercussion from them. Everything seemed to blur more and it took a few moments for things to steady enough so he could see that he was looking upside down, or at least sideways - (it was hard to tell when he was this out of it) - at the ground while a shoulder dug into his gut. Only then did Kody notice that he no longer had his beer bottle, having dropped it a while ago during one of his spills. He was sure a long way up, and a goofy smile broke over his face as he thought that it was like flying. Drunk as he was, he had no thought about seeing who was carrying him. A leaf blew by him and he stretched out a hand to wave at it, hitting the corner of it and sending it spinning. (It spun like his mind and world were spinning.) Dizzy, he waited to see where he was being taken. Ihem leyek ahh sawwk ov poe-tae-toooohs. The thought amused him for a moment, but then the thought that the person carrying him might think he really was a sack of potatoes scared him and he bounced his fists against their back. "Ihem naught ahh sawwk ov poe-tae-toooohs." Thud, thud, thud. "Dun eeeeat meee." Satisfied that they knew not to eat him he relaxed, the goofy smile returning to his face as he pointed at the stars. And wish that I could Save them all, or just one See the Fake, everyday Shaking hands of men, promising the end. Tags: KULL <3 | Words: 1505 Other: Wow Kody, don't die on me.

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[semper]

The only constant thing in Bull’s life is fear. The cold, biting feeling always sits inside him, making itself known with pinpricks and icy shivers, standing the hair up on the back of his neck, giving his stomach a twisting, nauseating feeling. Often it gets to the point where it paralyzes the boy and roots him to the ground and even his fight-or-flight response can’t even get him to react. He’s used to it, though – that vice-like grip it has on him – and he can work well under it until he ends up cornered. Then the fear wins. It takes control and reduces the huge boy to a crumbling mess, fingers clawing at his face and hair, knees buckling under his weight. It breaks him, snapping his composure like a soggy twig, crippling and bending him to its will. Bull tries to not let it take control of him (“Fear is very real, Caspian, but it is only an emotion. Emotions can be controlled.”) and tells himself that he is the one in control, not it, but the shivers and throat-tightening emotion easily overpowers his mind.

It used to be that he wasn’t always such a coward. He used to be carefree, throwing caution to the wind and taking life by both the horns and wrestling it until he won. Even when he first entered the wilderness he was not scared but the days grew longer and his thoughts harsher. Having no one to speak to in the wilderness slowly created a cage in his mind, imprisoning his conscience with scolding thoughts as the strong iron bars. He’s tried breaking down those barriers, comforting himself with the little victories each day holds like finding a patch of berries or hitting a squirrel with a stone, but the barrier mends itself, finding faults and fabricating them when there are none. It keeps him trapped in a constant paranoia; each and every move is marked with precise determination and the fear of failure prompts him to stop many times, even on the important things such as finding food. Second guessing himself had never been a huge thing until the incident; Bull thought he knew what the facts were, thought he knew right from wrong, thought he could read people but I’ve never been so wrong in my life. People are deceitful creatures, spewing hollow words out of their mouth while hiding the truth behind the glint in their eyes – and Bull, naïve Bull, putting faith in the false sincerity of spoken words.

But Kody – Bull believed every word that fell from his mouth. He always left the giant mesmerized, be it by those lively green eyes of his, or how his hair always appeared like he’d just rolled out of bed, or the tempting lure of the crook of his little neck. Oh how Bull had ached to run his fingers along the protrusion of Kody’s collarbone and the curve of his jaw. Before the fear had set in he was subjected to the anguish of not being able to reach out and touch him while girls slipped their hands all over Kody’s body behind closed doors. (“I did it, man. I scored. I got laid.”) At the not-so ripe age of fourteen Kody had unknowingly destroyed Bull. The giant of a boy felt his heart break in his chest, a sharp pain throb behind his ribs and throughout his extremities. Kody was straight, and no matter how badly Bull wished otherwise nothing would change. He never thought he would experience heartbreak at such a young age but it haunted him and still does – the aching in his chest only intensifies whenever he lays eyes upon an attractive male and he’ll try to stop it by balling a fist against his chest and turning to leave quickly. It never helps when the man has some of the same physical traits as Kody. Often times Bull only catches a glimpse of a familiar trait and does a double take, only to find that it’s only a stranger and that they’ve dredged up painful memories. It hurts seeing him everywhere. Every pair of green eyes, every tuft of black or dark brown hair, every lanky figure in the distance, it all does nothing but intensify the pain and force him to remember just how alone he really is.

A part of Bull still feels guilty about how he left Kody without even an explanation. He left to wander and sort out the whirlwind of emotions inside of him but even though years passed he found no solace in the quiet wilderness. Bull’s heart and mind longed for his childhood friend and that innocence they both held as they played around, pretending to be things so much greater than they really were. To me Kody really was great. It hurt to abandon him behind without warning and leave an atmosphere of mystery in his wake but the pain of knowing he was slowly becoming of less meaning to Kody with each girl he took to bed was too much to handle.

So why did I come back?

It has been a while since Bull’s return, perhaps a month or two, but he has never once spoke a word to anyone. No one is aware of the hulking boy’s presence as he stays to the shadows, keeping an eye on only one house in particular. On this night Bull decided to visit late and observe and so he sat in silence, listening to the crickets and fiddling around with a stick. He never does anything dramatic on his observations, only sits and watches, taking note of how the times has changed Kody. The only thing time has altered is how much liquor he can hold down. On this night it doesn’t take long before Kody comes stumbling out of the front door, nearly tripping over his feet with each and every step. Bull snaps the twig between his fingers and drops it, stands up and proceeds to follow his friend, sticking to the shadows.

Kody always was the one to get slobbering drunk, piling up the bottles until Bull was concerned he had drunk himself to death. Tonight is no different: Kody walks with that familiar uneven gait, stumbling around, wandering like any other drunkard. Bull is quiet with his steps, trailing behind at a safe distance, lips pursing together. Honestly he doesn’t like it when his friend gets drunk (he may be a funny drunk but I know it’s not Kody) and there have been a few times where he voiced his opinion on that but each time he was let down as Kody simply popped open another bottle. Bull’s eyes remain on his drunk friend and he pauses as the boy takes a hard fall, landing face first on the pavement.

Why do you do this to yourself? The dull ache begins to throb painfully in his chest as he watches Kody squirm to get up and continue, only to fall many more times. Each trip Bull shakes his head, wishing to but never once stepping out of the shadows to help his incoherent friend. Kody then hobbles up to a door on one of the houses and pauses before slamming his fist against it.

Bull hesitates, his mind quickly trying to sort out whose house he is trying to get into. He doesn’t recognize the street and Kody isn’t calling out a name – perhaps he made a friend, or is trying to “score” again? The thought is enough to propel Bull toward the house; he walks with longer strides up to where Kody is as he’s knocking a second time and simply loops an arm around Kody’s midsection, hauling him up onto his shouler.

The drunkard squirm slowly but it doesn’t stop Bull from walking quickly back the way they had come, retracing his steps in the shadows. His large heart begins to beat faster as he realizes that he’s finally making contact with Kody. Bull swallows hard against the lump forming in his throat and it only makes him circle his arm tighter around Kody’s little body, keeping him from falling.

"Ihem naught ahh sawwk ov poe-tae-toooohs. Dun eeeeat meee."

The corners of his lips curl up into a smile. Despite the situation and Kody’s pathetic attempts at hurting his captor, Bull finds it all amusing. Same old Kody. He carries the drunk back along the road and to Kody’s house but turns and takes the trail he normally travels for his observations. Taking Kody to his house would mean a certain encounter with his father and probably a whore or two and frankly Bull never fancied that idea. The man had always been sketchy and never held a smile on his face and it put off the mute boy, sending chills down his spine. Instead he decides to take Kody to his little makeshift home.

All there is is a rock overhang from a hillside; a tarp is stretched along one side of the overhang to make it just a little wider, and underneath is all of Bull’s supplies all scattered about. Rusty items, collected trinkets, bits of wrapped up food left over, bundles of certain plants, a flask of water, and the single and holey blanket waded up under the overhang. Kody has hardly made any sign that he is still alive but Bull doesn’t take any concern in that. He heads straight for a low-lying long and gently sets his friend on it, draping him over like he does cloth items to dry. This way he won’t choke on his vomit should he have to expel all that alcohol. He gives Kody an awkward pat on the rump before retracting his hand, turning away and heading to his little wood pile in order to start preparing to make a fire.

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