fool's gold {ark and krys} blitz

[[nyte]]

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Living sucks. More specifically- living on your own. It's not as though my family were particularly well off, we weren't rolling in bills as green as the trees they were torn from (not like somebody else I just so happen to know.) But who gave a shit if we had to skip a couple of meals, if I'd been working since I was fourteen and even then depended on Taylor to buy me anything that was less than necessity. At least I wasn't so fucking alone. At least when I woke up in the middle of the night with sweat staining my skin and the world very much feeling like it was going to end I had a sister to call out for. One who so loved to braid my hair and sing me songs until the world turned to nothing but mush around me.

I keep dreaming about him. About the good times. I keep dreaming about how his head felt laid in my lap, and the way his blonde hair was always so perfectly sunkissed. And then he turns to bones beneath my fingers, hissing as skin falls away in bloody chunks and he lunges for me. Angry that I took his life away. Angry that I listened to him when he begged for my help in ending it all.

When I wake up, there is no one to call for. I am left to press my face into a pillow and scream because there is no one around to hear. Because no one will care if I stain the pillow case with an ocean's worth of salt water because in the morning it will dry. There is no one to ask, to care if I am withering from the inside out.

No one knows that a bottle of whiskey has sat on my counter for five days now- unopened and whispering stories of sweet numbness into my ears. And maybe one day I'll throw two years of sobriety out the window but I don't think tonight's that night.

Instead I storm into the house of one Ark Williams, fists clenched at my side and purposefully ignoring the lighthearted atmosphere of yet another fucking party. (And oh I can smell it, beautiful bitter gold.) "Hey, Asshole! Hope I'm interrupting."

[Python]

ARK WILLIAMS.

The air was rich with the scent of sweet liquor and a boy’s prestige – more specifically, the prestige of Ark Williams. Beneath his name was an accumulation of wealth and power like liquid gold sliding through his fingers. He was a career, a bachelor, a charmer.

A drug dealer.

With so many resources at his disposal, he didn’t worry about tarnishing his name. He was safe inside of a bubble with everyone else orbiting him, and he would sacrifice any one of them to keep everything that he had built. If there was one sin he could name to describe himself, it was pride. Celebrations of this pride happened often. Vast parties were hosted at his residence, and tonight the air would smell of destruction.

Glass in hand, he weaved through the crowd of familiar faces. Customers were mingled in with friends – some were a mixture of both, craving the high or boost of a drug when he was off-duty tonight. Their priorities would be set aside for later. He always put himself first. It was his reputation; a selfish prick, but a clever one. Aggravatingly charismatic when he needed to be. He could name the people who liked him and the people who hated him. The neutrals faded against a grey background, but they would eventually be swayed to one end of the spectrum.r. He was easy to love and hate.

Two drinks later he wasn’t nearly buzzed enough to react well to a storm. Krystal, his beloved employee, was barging into his party. He wasn’t against the boy attending the party to have a good time and try to actually get along with someone, but clearly that wasn’t why he had showed up. It often wasn’t this frustrating to deal with somebody who hated him. He always managed his composure, always had a clever comeback. Sometimes even silence was golden, because he knew he had everything they didn’t. Mostly. But Krystal? He was a needle in his ass, yet there was something unmistakably alluring about the icicles in his voice. Ark could never ignore him.

”You are. What do you want?”

table by briar

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In another world we could have been friends. In a world where he didn't use the murder of my best friend for his own gain- who forced an addict to put his job on the line (arguably, the only thing that made him happy anymore) to get him stupid drugs. Ark is the worst kind of person- selfish and willing destroy anyone who might stand in his way.

He might also be the only constant in my life for two years now.

But that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it.

"You are." His voice reminds me of frozen honey, unmistakably pleasant and it pisses me of to no end. Nonetheless I give him a smile, batting my eyelashes and puckering my lips. (Good.) "What do you what?"

For one, I'd like to stop being blackmailed. I'd like to be able to sleep through the night. I'd like to forget all of this ever happened. I want my best friend back.

Ark doesn't care. I bet he doesn't know a damn thing about me. To him, I am a doll. To him, I am yet another toy to be used up and thrown away. That's just how guys like him are.

(I would know, Taylor was just the same.)

"Honestly, I was having a shit night and wanted to make sure you weren't having too much fun." My arms find themselves pressed to my chest, a desperate attempt to shield myself from eyes that I fear might see right through me. "So I hope you weren't planning on fucking anything tonight, babe." (I had a nightmare and I don't want to be alone. So please don't leave me alone.)

[Python]

ARK WILLIAMS.

He knew Krys didn’t have much of a life, and it was evident in tonight’s shenanigans. He was putting in so much effort just to ruin his night. People who despised him usually didn’t bother showing up to his parties in the first place. Krys had a different type of determination, a different shade of hatred. Or he was simply bored out of his mind because he had nothing better to do. Either way, tonight was going to be a nuisance of an adventure.

He wouldn’t let it bother him.

Downing his drink in one aggressive gulp, he slammed the glass down and shot his employee a challenging glare. ”You care that much about my sex life?” he said, without noting that it wasn’t much of an intriguing aspect of his life to burrow into. He was like most careers; sleeping around without much romance growing from the stems of one-night stands. He normally didn’t mind. Using people was his forte, and being used didn’t always feel terrible. But alienation was a side effect of his lifestyle. There was no romance to water, no relationships to blossom. His love life was a barren winter season.

”If you want to follow me around all night, be my guest,” he added, shrugging. If this was a challenge, he wouldn’t give any indication that Krys was irritating him. If his own life was as cold as winter, then Krys was a blizzard. They could mesh well, and Ark could handle his attitude for one night.

table by briar

[[nyte]]

 k  r  y  s  t  a  l ✶  a  m  b  r  o  s  e  

He really makes it too easy. Eyes not leaving mine as he downs a glass of bitter poison. "You care that much about my sex life?" My lips curl, slight pout tugging at the corners of my lips. Perhaps I think about Ark too much, perhaps I have a thing for guys that are bound to ruin me- I'm not sure. More than anything I'm hellbent on revenge, if I'm going to be fucking miserable so is he. And I hope I'm getting on his nerves because there is nothing I would love more than to be a thorn in his side, a pain in his ass. I want to make him hate me.

"I tend not to bother with things that won't last more than ten seconds." I know that's a lie. Ark is strong, well-built from years of career training. And honestly, I don't care if what I'm spitting is utter bullshit because that's what I'm best at. Lies fold off of soft lips, expression left blank as I run my eyes down the length of him.

Carefully, I reach out, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. I feel like I'm taunting a dragon, running a finger down prominent collar bones and listening to the music swell behind me. This is what I live for. Adrenaline. Poor life choices and irreversible mistakes. Maybe I don't have to be drunk to get this high, a giddy warm bubbling from somewhere in my stomach.

More, I need more, near pressing my body to his and finding my lips only centimeters away from his ear. "And I hope you treat your guests better than your employees." A smile is stitched to my lips by the time I back away.

The night is not yet ruined, it seems.

[Python]

ARK WILLIAMS.

He was immune to petty jibes. Liars tried to breathe smoke and flames through their lips but Ark felt no shame. He knew how impressive his stamina was, and he knew how limited Krys was in his knowledge of Ark’s life. They had two years together on record as blackmailing boss and disgruntled employee, but he knew little about Ark’s true personality, hobbies, and the like. Everything about him was superficial to an employee. They saw a cold, selfish asshole, and while that was true, everybody had layers to peel back. His might’ve been a little ugly, but nobody was rotten inside and out. He had redeeming qualities.

His expression remained stoic, and he didn’t respond to the comment. He wouldn’t give Krys that satisfaction.

A delicate hand reached up to his hair. His demeanor was suddenly soft, tauntingly soft, and Ark was not about to fall prey to this seductive game. He didn’t budge when their bodies pressed together, although there were a flurry of bittersweet thoughts racing through him at that moment. He decided in the same moment that Krys was a genuine asshole. He didn’t believe himself.

”I guess you’ll find out,” he said, grabbing another drink. ”Care for a drink?”

You won’t win tonight.

table by briar

[[nyte]]

 k  r  y  s  t  a  l ✶  a  m  b  r  o  s  e  

I've never told anyone about it. The nights I spent curled up on the floor, pain crawling through poisonless veins, literal agony as I waited for yet another wave of nausea to pass. And it was perhaps the hardest thing I've ever done to this date. Separated myself from sweet temptation- and I've always had such poor impulse control.

More than anything, I wanted to give in. I wanted to stop spilling my guts into the toilet bowl and down the bottle of whiskey I'd sat beside me. (Just in case.) I wanted to overdose- to die right there on the floor. Because even death was better than the pain. I've never been the suicidal sort either, never had the urge to string myself up from the rafters of my apartment complex. It was just that bad, just that painful.

"I don't drink." I give Ark a tight smile, backing up against him to avoid a drunk couple currently sewn to each other's faces. I can't help the way my lip curls, obviously irritated as I blow long hair out of my eyes and wait for their obnoxious giggling to fade. I hate those sorts, drunk hookups are one of the absolute worst experiences I think I've ever had. They're messy and careless. I don't even remember enjoying it, let alone the name of the guys I woke up next to. And yeah, I've never done anything that wasn't a drunk hookup but I imagine it'd be something better than a morning of bruised waists and sore hips. "But I do swallow."

[Python]

ARK WILLIAMS.

”Suit yourself.” He lifted the rim to his lips and gulped half of it down. The sweet burning sensation made his throat tingle. With Krys up his ass for the rest of the night, he planned to inebriate himself until his voice reminded him of flowers instead of frostbite. With a blurred head, Krys would be nothing but eye candy that made his chest warm. He would be bearable. He was untouchable, but at least it wouldn’t be a contest about who could push each other’s buttons the hardest. Ark didn’t like to be tested.

A drunken pair was shoving themselves through everybody’s personal space. Ark pressed himself against a wall and Krys followed suit. His hand found its way to Krys’ waist instinctively, but his eyes were fixed on the clumsy couple and their obnoxious giggles. Clearly they would be occupying one of the unlocked guest bedrooms tonight. Fortunately, he had others to clean those messes for him.

As they disappeared into the darkness of a dimly-lit corridor, Ark stole another sip of his drink. Krystal’s voice rose above the thrum of music, startling him with another provocative comment. I’m sure you do. He decided not to try imagining that scenario.

”You should demonstrate.”

Because if they were going to play this game, he wanted to be in the lead.

table by briar

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 k  r  y  s  t  a  l ✶  a  m  b  r  o  s  e  

People usually have to be inebriated to deal with me, it's something I try not to take personally. I'm not a sweet guy, both my bite and bark are something nasty and cruel and I always aim to kill. It's so much easier to push people away like that- to bear my thorns so that no one has the chance to get to know the withering thing that I have become, or moreso that I always was. I am really quite weak, downright submissive when you get to the root of it. Probably stems from being used most of my childhood by an asshole I've put on a pedestal.

Taylor really wasn't a great guy.

Sure, I'm fucked up. I seek out the company of guys who won't give a shit about me, hell who might even hurt me simply to avoid any chance of attachment. And it's not that hard to be stronger than something as small as me. (Sometimes I wonder if I stunted my own growth by getting so fucked for so longs; last I measured I was somewhere around five-foot four-inches. Pathetically small. Weak. Not exactly the ideal type in a society who worships strength.)

"You should demonstrate."

I could most certainly do that.

"Point out a guy and I'll make quick work of it, I'm not picky." Another lie.

I look down at the hand on my waist and I swallow the laugh that forms a painful lump in my throat. People usually have to be inebriated to touch me, it's something I try not to take personally.

[Python]

ARK WILLIAMS.

Several heartbeats later, he noticed the hand lingering on Krystal’s waist, anchoring him to his own body like property. Technically that was true, but only in the world of illegal activity. His was an employee with a black stain to his name, courtesy of Ark trying to build a foundation at a sensitive moment in Krys’ life. He didn’t know the context of the murder, nor did he plan to ask. It had been an impulsive decision to meddle in his crimes and save him for the sake of using him, but he didn’t plan on reversing it. As bitter as Krys was about the ordeal and their past two years together, Ark didn’t feel like letting him go. It wasn’t a punishment. He just happened to enjoy the consistency.

In the comforts of his home, Krystal was a guest. There would be no questions asked about the week’s supply, and no indications that he even cared about business. It was a party that Krys was trying to crash, but Ark was going to make the best of this little game. It was his house; he could do whatever the fuck he wanted within boundary.

He slid his hand to Krys’ hip and set his drink down. ”Nevermind, not interested,” he drawled, although maybe sticking him on some other guy would grant him the freedom he needed. However, the idea grated his nerves at the same time. If Ark was his target, then he better stick to it because now he was invested. ”Besides, you’re supposed to keep me company,” he added, pulling him closer to press his lips to his ear. If he truly hated him that much, his blood should curl. ”And make sure I don’t fuck anything.”

table by briar

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 k  r  y  s  t  a  l ✶  a  m  b  r  o  s  e  

My heart catches somewhere in the back of my throat when his hand slides down my body- a certain kind of electricity that sets my blood to a not-so unpleasant boil. Shit. He's really drunk. Really, really drunk. And the touch of another feels really fucking good after so long that I cannot help but lean back into him, letting out an annoyed huff that I hope he believes is meant for him.

I know his sort- possessive. I guess I am his for the night and he is not so eager to let me go suck another guy off even though I'm sure it'd be a thorn out of his side to get my whiny ass out of his way but drunk Ark is quite an amusing Ark. Perhaps some part of him wants me as more than an employee. Ah, no that's a ridiculous idea. I must be drunk off this atmosphere.

He presses his lips to my ear, sending icicles down my spine and shit. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to fuck me."

Which means I would win this little game we're playing.

So go right ahead, Ark.

I give him a smile, one stained with sugar and lean my head against his shoulder and it is strong and warm and I don't think I'd have a nightmare if I fell asleep here. But I don't think about that. 

I really don't.

[Python]

ARK WILLIAMS.

Krys smiled, sugar-coated and suspicious. Ark was pretty sure that was a bad thing, and that somehow he was losing. Right, he’s playing with me. But he would enjoy the warm body while it was within his grasp, even if hope was nonexistent. His employee was not unattractive – in fact, he was probably the only person Ark had ever imagined himself romantically pursuing, if only he wasn’t a cactus. There was an infinite list of reasons why it wasn’t a good idea. Number one, Krys despised him. Number two, he was as cold as a glacier, tone always laced with poison when he spoke to Ark and again it was because he despised him. It wasn’t without good reason either.

”I would,” he admitted, because he didn’t see the shame in his attraction to his employee. He was at the top of the food chain; what was there to be embarrassed about? Krystal was hot. Hot and bitchy.

Somehow the ‘bitchy’ part was just as alluring.

”But I know I’m the last person you’d fuck,” he said, slinking both hands around his waist. He didn’t know how far Krys would allow this to go, but that was the only part of this game Ark found interesting. Of course this was meant to lead to nothing. If anything he was punishing himself for the night, but this whole ordeal had started because of Krys craving some kind of revenge. He would have his fun until Krys decided it wasn’t worth it to stay.

table by briar

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 k  r  y  s  t  a  l ✶  a  m  b  r  o  s  e  

Physical touch is intoxicating, sending shivers down my spine and suddenly I cannot see anything but the tension sewn between us. It's hard to think with this music making its way into my chest; turning my heartbeat into an obnoxious base and it hurts. But I suppose I have lingered so long past my expiration date that even something as simple as human interaction has become twisted and corrupt and treacherous.

Would it be so hard to burn a few fucking bridges? Swallow my pride for once in my life and forgive Ark for taking advantage of me like he did? But what kind of person does that- takes bloodstained palms within their own and promises salvation only at the cost of their freedom. It's not like I could have said no, I wouldn't have survived the detention center. I was too small, too frail. Too easy to look at and see nothing but a withering flower whose petals are meant to be plucked by whoever's thumb and forefinger I might find myself trapped between in the near future.

I can't do it. I can't do it.

I'd rather die alone and in pain- rather die with a bottle once again pressed within my palm to admit that I am so weak. So pitiful. There is something so awful about the prospect of handing myself over completely to fate. Control is all that I have left. It's all that is keeping me going and perhaps it will be the reason a curtain is finally drawn upon this train-wreck of an act.

And I hate him. I hate him so much that I cannot feel a damn thing anymore. There is nothing but his heartbeat and mine. I'm too fucking tired to do this. I'm too fucking hungry and cold and too busy self destructing to worry about bringing another person down with me.

"Fuck it." I mutter, placing long fingers upon his cheeks and forcing his gaze to my own. "Let me stay the night and I'll do anything you want."

And I mean it.

[Python]

ARK WILLIAMS.

What’s done is done. The day Ark found Krystal’s hands stained with death under the watchful eye of a Peacekeeper, minutes away from being whisked away to the Detention Center for the charge of murder, was long gone. It was all thanks to his split-second decision to buy off the Peacekeeper and exploit Krys’ debt that he was here now, arms around his employee with desire boiling in his chest. It was also thanks to this decision that this very human being hated him. During moments like this, he wondered what might’ve happened if he had paid off the Peacekeeper without enslaving Krys as his drug mule. Could they have become friends?

Too late. He blamed alcohol for drawing him toward these senseless thoughts. There was no reason to dwell on the past. He couldn’t change it, and he was the type of prideful man who refused to hold any regrets. His deeds had settled with him long ago, but only one haunted him like a shadow. For all of the lives he may have ruined with the offering of cheap steroids and hard drugs, the eyes of only one boy stared him in the face when he closed his own. Those eyes were looking at him right now, sharp and stunning. He was a little too tipsy to notice the real intent behind them.

There was a deal on the table; let him stay in his luxurious mansion, and Ark could request whatever he pleased. The alcohol had settled like dust in the forefront of his mind, but it didn’t hinder him from noticing the key words. Krys said he would do whatever Ark wanted. It was whatever he wanted, not what Krys wanted.

He hesitated, because it was unfair. He had limits.

”You can stay free of charge,” he grumbled. His grip on the younger boy didn’t loosen, but he didn’t let go either. He wanted to enjoy these few moments, as pointless and selfish as it was. This idea of Krys spending the night without offering anything in return didn’t sound fun, but he would be a fool to think he desired him. ”Just don’t destroy anything.”

table by briar

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He thinks he's being a good guy. No doubt he's patting himself on the back because he didn't stick it in that pathetic fucking whore. The one that he found crying over a cooling corpse, the one that he uses for drugs and a power trip. I'm a disaster, a fucking hurricane and he must think he's such a saint. My blood turns black- poisoned and rotten and eating me away. Anger. His hands are still upon me, warming cold veins. My own personal summer breeze and holy fucking shit I forgot just how good it felt to be held.

But I still tear myself away, arms crossed over my chest to hide the gaping hole I myself carved with every fake smile and forced laugh. "Yeah, Ark. Thanks for the fucking generosity." I would spit on his shoes had that not been more trouble than its worth. "Where the fuck was that when you were paying off that peacekeeper huh? Where was this 'free of charge' shit then?"

I killed the man I loved and he used it. Leverage. A means to an end and I meant fuck all to him then and I don't know what's changed. I don't care. Do I hate him? I don't think I hate much of anybody but I know better than anyone that he doesn't do no strings attached. Last time he helped me there were so many strings that two years later I'm left a marionette. Taylor was everything I had and now, because god must fucking hate me, that's Ark. Consistency is all I crave and that is what he is. I'm just not ready to have another friend.

"I'm in fucking control here, Ark. This goddamn deal goes down on my terms." Because life so far has been nothing but fists to my gut and I'm so damn tired of it. "So you either fuck me 'til I can't see straight or you explain to me why you won't." (yet another sleepless night.)