In the End

Things Too Strange and Strong

Chucky looks sheepish for one passing second, and Andy does not know what to do about it.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, which is not what he was planning on saying, but he says it anyways. He wants to get up and leave, but his smallest movement causes vertigo, and he stays put, against his will. Or so he thinks.

"Don't you fuckin' start with me, you little pain in my ass," Chucky grunts. Andy can tell he has been hitting the bottle as well, from the way his voice slurs. He hobbles over the last of the brambles he had been fighting through and dusts off his overalls, the most human thing Andy has ever seen him do. It is disorienting, and the slightest bit disturbing to him. "You're comin' to me this time."

Chucky stands up again, hands on his hips, and he's breathing heavily. The tiniest of a smirk plays at his mouth, even though his eyes are just as sharp and harsh as always, sparkling ice.

"So, you missed me, did ya?" he asks, and Andy wants to hit him. Oh, he wants to hit him so badly. But he's never been so content with that feeling, that dirty anger and coursing rush of life surging inside him, and he has. He has missed it. It only makes him angrier, and the cycle starts again.

"Don't you wish," he replies, and takes another swig of the bottle, only to find it lacking. He'd forgotten he'd drank all of it. With a frustrated grunt, he tosses it to the side and it lands in the cool dirt, rolling to Chucky's feet.

Chucky, to Andy's surprise, sits beside him, sliding his back against the old broken wall. For a moment, as Chucky just closes his eyes and doesn't say much else, he wonders if Chucky is feeling the dampness seep into his clothes as well. He hates that he thinks it, and he hates that he is next to Chucky, painting him as anything but a monster.

"You drank too, didn't you?" he asks, and Chucky just nods, his head moving in the most lopsided manner. Andy leans back against the wall, and he does not ask how Chucky got the alcohol.

Chucky says something, but he doesn't catch all of it. He isn't sure why he cares, and he almost begins to let the anger and hatred rise up in him and growl all over again, but he is so tired of fighting it. He is so tired of fighting himself.

"What?" he asks, feeling his heart flip over in his stomach. The alcohol is making everything run together. He has to blink at Chucky once, twice, and a few more, just to get his shape to be a solid again.

Chucky looks positively mortified and enraged. "I said," he exhales loudly, and puts his hands in his hair. He does not look at Andy. "I do."

Andy does not know what Chucky is talking about. He feels his mouth, dry and parched from the alcohol. He should have brought water. Kristen would kill him, he knew, if she had any idea what he was doing right now. If Chucky does not kill him now, in this moment, Kristen will, if just for not bringing water. If just for sitting here with Chucky, instead of attacking him instantly or leaving him immediately.

"You do what?" he goes on, despite all of this. He wants to hit himself now. For a moment, he vaguely thinks of just swinging his skull into the wall behind him. He wonders how hard he would have to throw his head back to do any severe damage. As of now, he would love to crush his own head and pass out instantly.

"Goddamn it, Andy, you stupid, aggravating, little bitch," Chucky pummels the ground with small fists. It is so strange, to see him like this. "I hate you, how's that?'

"Hate you too," Andy mutters, with a small snort. He picks at his own shirt, wondering how something that was clean only moments ago is ruined all over again.

Chucky leans over and grabs the bottle, picking it up and studying it as if it is some sort of vintage rarity. "I see you haven't changed since I last saw you," he observes, setting it down gently so that it stands up. Andy can almost swear he sees a smile on Chucky's face, but he is so dizzy and when he blinks again, Chucky's face is the same, scowling glory that Andy knew. "You really do like this Blue Label stuff, don't you?"