HATESLUT

No Names

HATESLUT

It was dark, and the bass was booming. That's how he liked it — it always had been. It'd been the same for her, too, but he didn't care about her. Not tonight, anyway. In fact, he was about three fat lines away from forgetting her entirely. Of course, it'd only work for the night, but that was all he needed. He'd just do it wake up and do it all again the next night.

He felt the thump of the 808's pounding through the surround sound. Coupled with the grit of the grungy, seedy guitars that drowned in the mix, it was about the only thing he could feel as he neared the verge of another blackout. A rush of indistinguishable sounds filled the room as it started to spin, and he started to lose himself for the thousandth time when he heard someone knocking on the door. It took him a moment to ground himself and make it back to reality, but he was able to peel himself from the his worn sage sofa a few seconds after their second round of knocks.
When he opened the door, everything stopped. The cold air whipped him across the face, and his sunken pale eyes flickered wide open and stayed that way. It was her. In the one, single moment he needed her the most, she'd shown up at his doorstep. Never would he admit it, not even to himself, that he wanted her there more than anything else. But, it was only ever her that could bring him back to life.

"What happened to 'fuck you, too'?"

Dressed from head to toe in black, with a dangerously short and tight skirt that hugged her every curve and pair of fishnet leggings to seal his fate, she was still everything his dreams were made of. She even made sure to make the wings of her eyes sharp enough to end his existence and choose a tight and black see-through short sleeve tee that came up just above her midriff. A nightmare in black lipstick, she was everything he ever wanted. He could finally feel his face again when her long and silky midnight hair bunched in the folds of his arms after she'd fallen comfortably into the pit of his chest, just as she had countless times before.

"Yeah, well," she began. "I love you even when I hate you." He didn't know what it was, but her rustic cherrywood eyes seemed to glow brighter than they ever had, that night.
"So, I guess that means you love me always." He'd known that for the longest time, but he wanted to hear her say it. Although, he soon remember her pride was as impenetrable as his was when she blew in past him and told him,
"Or, I just have poor judgment." She had to save face, but they both knew she could never live without him. That being said, he was into her, and he'd play along as long as she kept it up.
"Yeah, you're right." Then again, it was easy for him to agree.

They walked inside, and she followed him to the couch and stood before him while he sank into the cushions.
"So, did you miss me?" he asked her above the music.
"Really?" Surveying his immediate space, she looked down at his coffee table and was able to spot an old credit card dusted in white and a pink three-wick candle that was burning down to its nub. No other lights were on, and she assumed that was so he wouldn't be able to see just how miserable he was without her. Whether he knew it or not, she was right.
"Yeah, and?" Suddenly guarded, he stood up and stepped around the coffee table to meet her face-to-face. She didn't back down like before, though. Rather, she looked up at him and met his threatening gaze. He had a good four five inches on her height-wise, but she wasn't scared. It didn't matter that it looked as though he wanted to take her over in every single possible way.
"What are you doing?" She watched as a jarring coldness washed over his eyes, but she remained unmoved. In fact, she dared even closer.
"Better yet, why are you here?" He quickly turned the tables and went on the offensive as the tension in the room rose. His hands were dirty, but hers would soon be, too. "You wanna fuck up my life some more?" he flailed.
"Yeah, because you totally needed me to do that. And you wonder why no one ever stays with you for longer than a day." It was then that she started to walk away, ready to abandon any hope the two of them may have had left. "Have fun with your fucking dope," she spat as she started the other way. "I'm sorry I'm not good enough to be your girlfriend." Although, he wasn't done, and that meant she wasn't going anywhere.