you're never going home
Characters: Alex Kapranos & Annie Cartwright
Rating: R for language & drunkenhigh!alex
Time Period: Modern
Location: On top the castle roof
Relative Date: Night-time
Status: Open
What was that? What the fuck was that in the water? Alex paced the roof, kicked a bottle off the edge of it and only stopped long enough to nearly fall off. Nearly. Whatever. Nearly didn't mean anything now did it? ...Did it? God, he needed another drink, but all his drinks were bottles now and all his bottles were floating on the water or sinking down.
Down, down, down, down...
Alex closed his eyes. He was sinking now; he felt an imaginary line pulling him down into the water- a line hooked to one of those god damn bottles, no doubt. He teetered back and forth until the ugly sound of grit scraping under his shoes pierced him through the haze. His eyes shot open, the nausea alleviated momentarily as he balanced nearer to the edge than he ever remembered being. He stumbled back on his heels and ripped his jacket from his shoulders; a few bottles rolled in his wake and he kicked at them hard for touching him. Somehow he managed his blazer off and the weird madness that hit him slowly began to melt away into temporary clarity.
Oh. I'm wrecked.
"What the fuck is... am I doing," he slurred and pressed his fingers hard into his eyes. The pressure felt good and he panted grateful curses into his hands. Fuck, he was angry. "Nick. What- what the hell've you done." Nick, ha. He'd been gone for weeks, there was no real reason he'd find him here- and yet the chance of it in an otherwise hopeless situation was far too tempting.
Alex sat down on the ledge, leaving his legs to dangle off it. He was once again distracted by a movement in the water, like a crow mesmerized by something shiny. It gave him a bad, bad feeling. What if it got Nick? What if it was going to get him, too?
"Fuck you!" he yelled down, his voice echoing coldly against the stone. Fuck, he felt panicked now and he fought desperately against the buttons of his shirt. He grasped for his last bottle, shrugged the shirt from off shoulders and stood triumphant against the moonlight. This one was going to hit hard. It was going to hit so fucking hard, it would wake him from this uninspiring nightmare.
Rating: R for language & drunkenhigh!alex
Time Period: Modern
Location: On top the castle roof
Relative Date: Night-time
Status: Open
What was that? What the fuck was that in the water? Alex paced the roof, kicked a bottle off the edge of it and only stopped long enough to nearly fall off. Nearly. Whatever. Nearly didn't mean anything now did it? ...Did it? God, he needed another drink, but all his drinks were bottles now and all his bottles were floating on the water or sinking down.
Down, down, down, down...
Alex closed his eyes. He was sinking now; he felt an imaginary line pulling him down into the water- a line hooked to one of those god damn bottles, no doubt. He teetered back and forth until the ugly sound of grit scraping under his shoes pierced him through the haze. His eyes shot open, the nausea alleviated momentarily as he balanced nearer to the edge than he ever remembered being. He stumbled back on his heels and ripped his jacket from his shoulders; a few bottles rolled in his wake and he kicked at them hard for touching him. Somehow he managed his blazer off and the weird madness that hit him slowly began to melt away into temporary clarity.
Oh. I'm wrecked.
"What the fuck is... am I doing," he slurred and pressed his fingers hard into his eyes. The pressure felt good and he panted grateful curses into his hands. Fuck, he was angry. "Nick. What- what the hell've you done." Nick, ha. He'd been gone for weeks, there was no real reason he'd find him here- and yet the chance of it in an otherwise hopeless situation was far too tempting.
Alex sat down on the ledge, leaving his legs to dangle off it. He was once again distracted by a movement in the water, like a crow mesmerized by something shiny. It gave him a bad, bad feeling. What if it got Nick? What if it was going to get him, too?
"Fuck you!" he yelled down, his voice echoing coldly against the stone. Fuck, he felt panicked now and he fought desperately against the buttons of his shirt. He grasped for his last bottle, shrugged the shirt from off shoulders and stood triumphant against the moonlight. This one was going to hit hard. It was going to hit so fucking hard, it would wake him from this uninspiring nightmare.