Towers

15

"What exactly do you want me to do?" Alfred cocked his head.

"Hit me." Francis shrugged. 

"What?"

"Hit me. As hard as you want, break my jaw if you want, just hit me."

"How would that help?"

"I can't feel much else, maybe pain will kick-start it all over again."

"That's not how that works-"

"Then what will!?" Francis yelled, voice cracking as he struggled to spit out anything loud. He clearly his dry throat with a cough. "Pain surely isn't any better than sex, they're practically the same. Can't drown in wine or some other damned thing. What can help, Alfred? Tell me."

"I have a question first."

"What?"

"How are pain and sex the same?"

Francis chuckled, "You asked quite the question." He sighed, standing up. "Pain is pain, it hurts. Sometimes we like pain, we like the sting we get when smacked in the face. It propels us forward and we keep fighting just out of spite. In the end, we end up on the ground, in pain and sobbing like idiots because pain is still pain." He stepped closer to Alfred. "Pain is still pain like sex is still sex. We like the sensation but in the end we're alone." He stopped in front of Alfred and leaned down. "Either way, both stem from meaningless animalistic behavior. From nothing," He moved his hands to Alfred's shoulders and slid them down. He moved them out of the way causing the other to lean back. With this chance, he sat down on Alfred's lap. "To a sting that we desire," He leaned forward his voice going down to a whisper in Alfred's ear. "And finally nothing."

"I really can't argue with that." Alfred looked at him with an even deeper frown as he pulled back. "I can say that there's always more meaning to pain and sex. We give meaning on purpose because it shouldn't be dull. We have sex because we love, we have pain because we protect what we love."

"Are you saying emotions can help gain emotions?"

"Bascially."

"Then do you mind helping me to prove your theory?" Francis' hands slid back up eventually reaching Alfred's face. "Hit me, fuck me, care for me, I don't care. I'm all yours. Just make me feel something." Anything. He almost added. Alfred simply stared back at him, expression unchanging unlike the different flickers in his eyes.

A knock at the door distracted the two. Francis promptly removed himself from the other's lap and went to answer. At the door was Matthew with nothing but concern written on his face.

"You look terrible." He said to Francis.

"I know." Francis rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to check on you because both Alfred and Arthur were calling me about you."

"Oh, really?" Francis quickly glared at Alfred before returning his attention to Matthew. "They were proven right, I'm guessing."

"Absolutely."

"Good to know I'm not the only who thinks I'm pathetic."

"Never said that."

"It's implied."

"No, it's not." Matthew pushed his glasses up to fix them. "We went over this already."

"Yes, and how did that work out?"

"Francis, when was the last time you left the apartment?"

"Funny you ask-"

"Matt," Alfred cut in. "can I talk to you for a second." Matthew glanced at Francis then back to Alfred before stepping in. The two whispered on while Francis watched. He sighed in defeat as he shut the door and headed to the kitchen. Once there, he poured himself a glass of water. The first sip tasted like pure shit. The alcohol taste in his mouth really didn't mix well together with the taste of pure water. He near spat it out. He was too thirsty to really care all that much about the taste.

The atmosphere of the kitchen made him realize how his stomach ached. He couldn't really remember the last time he ate. He went to the fridge and scavenged for food. He managed to find all the ingredients to make a half decent sandwich. He set it all on the counter. He sighed tiredly this time. The exhaustion was hitting him at full force. His eyes started to burn.

He blinked.