drink
title: drink
rating: pg-13
pairing: ryo/ueda
count: 625 words
nb: for jeauexe
Cradling an opaque glass bottle, Ryo sits surrounded by bottles of similar appearance; some full, others empty. He tips the bottle back, catching the liquid on his tongue before it slides in. The ice cold drink sears his throat as he gulps it down. He doesn't wrinkle his nose at the strong taste; he is far too used to it now. It is now a friend, each gulp serving to dull the pain that throbs inside of him even more. Pain he'd never show or tell anyone else. Except for...
He gave a harsh laugh. It wouldn't come back. That was clear enough, even through the fog that hung over his senses.
He took another gulp from the bottle, emptying the last of the liquid into his mouth. He swilled it around in his mouth, warming it slightly and savouring the strong taste before letting it drain down his throat.
Almost immediately, he reached for the next bottle, discarding the bottle cradled in his lap.
Another man entered. A face full of delicate features on a lithe dancer's body, he didn't belong in this grungy, dirty place.
Tatsuya.
He looked around, and catching sight of the man slumped against the graffitied wall, he immediately frowned.
"What you lookin' at?" Ryo demanded, his alcohol laden brain making him slur his words.
"You shouldn't be drinking this much," Ueda said quietly.
The other man laughed bitterly. "S'not like you care."
"You know I do." Again, he was quiet. Unsure of his words, his purpose, what to do. It wasn't going like he had expected it to. Then again, it was all wrong to start with.
"Do I?" He laughed again, cold, mocking and openly contemptuous. "Oh, wait, I forgot. I know you do, because you're told to. Poor little Ueda can't think for himself. He has to wait for everyone else to tell him what to do, to tell him what a good little boy he is."
Ueda flinched. It hurt.
And Ryo had known it was going to hurt. It was going to make the other sensitive boy curl up in a corner and cry himself to sleep for days on end. But in his current inebriated state, he was too far gone to care.
"Did I hurt you? Poor little Ueda. Better run off to your daddy now, so he can tell you what to do."
Ueda flinched again, battling to fight back the tears that had formed in his eyes. The words which always cut life a knife hurt more than ever now, coupled with the brutal honesty of alcohol drowned sorrows.
"But...but I'm trying, I'm trying to help you..." he stuttered.
Ryo snorted. "Like you can. Look at yourself, crying because you can't handle the slightest criticism. You can't even help yourself. You're pathetic."
A hand flew to his mouth. Tears ran down his face as he fled, the words echoing in his mind.
You can't even help yourself. You're pathetic.
Absolutely pathetic.
--
The room spun. Clutching a hand to his mouth, he staggered across the threshold to the cracked, grimy toilet behind the battered, splintery door. Not even bothering to close the door properly, he leaned over and threw up into the porcelain bowl.
Slumping back against the door, he ignored the splinters pricking into his skin and instead tried to concentrate on what had happened.
Ueda. Oh. Right. Oh crap.
All thoughts of what had just happened disappearing from his mind as a wave of nausea passed over him again. Positioning himself over the bowl, he forgot all about what had just happened as he emptied the rest of his stomach.
rating: pg-13
pairing: ryo/ueda
count: 625 words
nb: for jeauexe
Cradling an opaque glass bottle, Ryo sits surrounded by bottles of similar appearance; some full, others empty. He tips the bottle back, catching the liquid on his tongue before it slides in. The ice cold drink sears his throat as he gulps it down. He doesn't wrinkle his nose at the strong taste; he is far too used to it now. It is now a friend, each gulp serving to dull the pain that throbs inside of him even more. Pain he'd never show or tell anyone else. Except for...
He gave a harsh laugh. It wouldn't come back. That was clear enough, even through the fog that hung over his senses.
He took another gulp from the bottle, emptying the last of the liquid into his mouth. He swilled it around in his mouth, warming it slightly and savouring the strong taste before letting it drain down his throat.
Almost immediately, he reached for the next bottle, discarding the bottle cradled in his lap.
Another man entered. A face full of delicate features on a lithe dancer's body, he didn't belong in this grungy, dirty place.
Tatsuya.
He looked around, and catching sight of the man slumped against the graffitied wall, he immediately frowned.
"What you lookin' at?" Ryo demanded, his alcohol laden brain making him slur his words.
"You shouldn't be drinking this much," Ueda said quietly.
The other man laughed bitterly. "S'not like you care."
"You know I do." Again, he was quiet. Unsure of his words, his purpose, what to do. It wasn't going like he had expected it to. Then again, it was all wrong to start with.
"Do I?" He laughed again, cold, mocking and openly contemptuous. "Oh, wait, I forgot. I know you do, because you're told to. Poor little Ueda can't think for himself. He has to wait for everyone else to tell him what to do, to tell him what a good little boy he is."
Ueda flinched. It hurt.
And Ryo had known it was going to hurt. It was going to make the other sensitive boy curl up in a corner and cry himself to sleep for days on end. But in his current inebriated state, he was too far gone to care.
"Did I hurt you? Poor little Ueda. Better run off to your daddy now, so he can tell you what to do."
Ueda flinched again, battling to fight back the tears that had formed in his eyes. The words which always cut life a knife hurt more than ever now, coupled with the brutal honesty of alcohol drowned sorrows.
"But...but I'm trying, I'm trying to help you..." he stuttered.
Ryo snorted. "Like you can. Look at yourself, crying because you can't handle the slightest criticism. You can't even help yourself. You're pathetic."
A hand flew to his mouth. Tears ran down his face as he fled, the words echoing in his mind.
You can't even help yourself. You're pathetic.
Absolutely pathetic.
--
The room spun. Clutching a hand to his mouth, he staggered across the threshold to the cracked, grimy toilet behind the battered, splintery door. Not even bothering to close the door properly, he leaned over and threw up into the porcelain bowl.
Slumping back against the door, he ignored the splinters pricking into his skin and instead tried to concentrate on what had happened.
Ueda. Oh. Right. Oh crap.
All thoughts of what had just happened disappearing from his mind as a wave of nausea passed over him again. Positioning himself over the bowl, he forgot all about what had just happened as he emptied the rest of his stomach.