In the End

Caught in a Bear Trap

Chucky wakes incredibly off of guard and indescribably hungover, arm draped over the side of Andy's couch and drool clinging to the corner of his mouth. This will make it the third time he has fallen asleep here. He would almost be ashamed, but his stomach is full of wanting bile and there is a dizzying spell throbbing in his skull.

"Fuck!" he curses under his breath, swiping his hands over his eyes. He is becoming human enough to have the effects of alcohol - even the negative ones. He groans and curses again, shaking his head and trying not to expunge himself of the whiskey he intook merely a few hours ago. He does not even enjoy whiskey, truly; but it is what Andy had had on the table when he came home.

He freezes, a strange chill rippling through his skin. This is not home , he tells himself. And yet, he has found himself so comfortable here, despite it all. Perhaps it is because Andy Barclay comes with familiarity, although it is a malicious familiarity indeed.

Or perhaps not. Andy had all the time - and ashamedly, the opportunity - to take advantage of him and destroy him, and yet, he did not. That was stranger than most things Chucky had encountered. And he had encountered quite a bit.

His mind finally awakening, he sits up and listens for any stirrings in the apartment, any signs of the Barclay boy awake and about. There are none. Chucky thinks that perhaps Andy is still asleep, but one quick check in the kitchen on the stove clock and he knew that Andy must have been at work for a few hours by now. Again, so much time to have taken his life, and yet Andy did not do it.

He is almost mind-boggled by the fact, but then again, when he had been given the chance, he had not taken Andy's life either. He catches himself grinning about it and he does not know why - or rather, he is afraid to entertain the idea of why.

The apartment is a mess. Glancing around, he can see nothing but the entire wasteland that Andy has allowed himself to fall into. It is a telltale of his mental decline; he would almost revel in it, but for some reason, it only leaves him wanting, although he is not sure for what. If Tiffany were here, she would scoff and scold the mess, tidying it up immediately.

His heart pains. He misses her, truly, and he knows that he must have gone very southward for her to completely shut him out of her life. That, or she has come to the realization that she is much too good for him, and always has been. He knows that this is true, at any rate. He did not deserve her love, beginning to end. He sighs and picks at the lint collecting on the worn blanket tangled around his stubby legs, self-commiserating.

This is a fucking pig sty , Tiffany would say. Must I do everything?

Oddly enough, his hands itch to expel the mess. He is unsure if it is in honor of Tiffany, or that there is actually a part of her now embedded in him, and he truly cannot stand his current environment. Yet he cannot leave.

He had never imagined Andy to grow up to be like this. It almost hurts to look at. The enemy with the fire in his eyes was burned out, not even a trace of smoke behind. He wants nothing more than to ignite it again, the way he can almost see it sputter sometimes. As if underneath, Andy is a phoenix in the wings.

He would love to see it. He would love to be the reason for it.

He picks up the trash around the couch, just because. And then he throws clothes together, stacking them in the hall just outside the laundry closet. At least now he can walk around the apartment easier, without tripping or finding even the smallest piles overwhelmingly towering over him. His stomach rumbles - an inconvenience - and he makes his way into the kitchen, only to be thrown aback by how awful that looks as well.

"Jesus, kid, don't you love yourself?" he wonders aloud. There does not seem to be one clean dish to cook any food on whatsoever. His stomach seems to murmur in accordance, making him groan and roll his eyes, almost petulantly. He will have to do some work in here as well, if he wants anything to eat.