Double-Edged Sword - $UICIDEBOY$

Night Flashes and Drunken Passion

Author's note: your bitch is back from the deadddddd   

    The future turned out to be shaky, but at least it wasn't broken. Scrim threw away precious time on legal papers and insurance documents for hours in the kitchen, glasses on. Ruby was dulled down, suppressing himself to avoid shock. Days meant to be spent on making music melted away into a disillusioned parallel. Your life began to revolve from one blunt to the next, one drink to the next, one aching hour of sleep to the next... You wore your new clothes a though they were the garb of the reaper, but you didn't want to let down Scrim after he'd gotten them for you.

"The air is toxic lately.", you scoffed while rubbing your nose.

Ruby, distant and slumped on the couch, titled his head towards you, "Wha...?"

The air was coated in the strong odor of weed; it had been consistently for the past days. Ruby's bloodshot eyes blinked slowly, and he turned his head away again to the TV. But you were right, the air was toxic. Something was dragging you all down in unison propelled by the stressful aftermath of the crash.
When you showered that night, you dug your nails deeply into your skin wanting to wash away the venomous sensation. You scrubbed your hair with Ruby's shampoo and conditioner so that the drain was filled and overflowing with foam. You weren't out of your mind, but you weren't within it either. You stepped out into the chilled bathroom and peered into the foggy mirror above the sink. The fuzzy reflection of yourself was thinner and gaunt.

"Ruby."

You waited, and called again louder.

"Ruby."

Through the bathroom door and down the hall, he heard you and dragged himself away from the couch. You listened to each heavy footstep until they settled behind the bathroom door. Your apathy perhaps had given you the urge to physically ravage anything for feeling. And perhaps that apathy led to you tearing away your towel when Ruby walked in. The cold air bit your skin, pushed goosebumps to the surface, and engorged your nipples.

He inhaled, dizzy and confused. Then he instantly remembered; you were available to him.

You both giggled throughout the night, rolling in bed and rubbing your hands on each other. Scrim usually left at night recently, and neither Ruby or you dared to ask for more information. So, you kissed for long and aching minutes under the cover of darkness. You were finally feeling something again. It was carnal and instinctive, but it was more than what you'd been given in days. Your mind returned to you with each sweep of his hand on your thighs. Your blood was finally racing again. You watched his body squirm when you kissed his bare chest and moved downwards.
Somehow, the time was all intimate. You stole the spontaneous moment of casual sex and created a purpose towards each other. His skin burned wherever you touched, and you could recall flames when your tongue traced the edge of his groin. Maybe some people were stuck in believing that sex couldn't be beautiful. Those people missed the grand image of chemical passion.
He moaned and twitched for you with each plunge of your head onto him. His legs writhed and kicked when you teased him. This- this was the power being handed over to you. This was him letting you work to break the barriers of trauma down.

And you did.

You rode him, head rolling side to side in pleasure. His hips desperately thrusted under you, trying to reach more. You were on fire too. You both were in hell, making the most of life. The air had stolen joy for days, but Ruby and you made your own and protected it under blankets. You melted together eventually when neither of you could take anymore. His hair creeped around your shoulders and back.

"I swear you bring me back to life.", Ruby wrapped his arms around you as he said it.

You murmured nothing but a delicate hum into his shoulder, feeling sleep take you. He continued to hold you well after you'd lost consciousness.

Scrim woke you up late in the afternoon, lip hooked, "Come the fuck on- it's like.. 1 or some shit. Get up."

Ruby groaned under you and stretched, "It's my house too bitch.", he tried to sound playful even though Scrim had sounded genuinely irritated.

Scrim left the door open upon exiting. You rolled off of Ruby and curled up under the blankets he was getting out of. You watched him stand and stretch a final time. His hair was a curly bird's nest subject to your adoration. At least he didn't look empty anymore. That mattered most to you.

"You, Y/N, make me feel things I never thought I could physically feel. Hoes... I swear, I say that a lot but so many chicks just give you the basic shit. I used them and ran... Nothing stands out. Giving that up for you last night, letting myself really go..."

You rubbed your eyes and grinned, "That's what the romantic people call 'making love', right?"

He threw his hand into the air, "Ah, fuck that corny shit. It was whatever I wanna call it."

Scrim yelled for Ruby from the opposite side of the house, to which Ruby departed quickly. Your attention refocused on his room. It was disheveled and left uncared for; the whole house had honestly entered the same condition. No one felt the need to organize and clean; Scrim was stressed and Ruby was apathetic. You figured you should do it; it would make you feel less like a freeloader and do some honestly good work.
Dragging a hoodie down to your thighs and yanking pants on, you stepped into the main room and stared. Slowly, over the course of quiet hours, you shoved litter into trashcans and swept dust away. You payed no mind the sudden absence of the guys; they were probably trying to get into the groove of things again. When you finished, the house was mostly cleared. The toxicity in the air had vanished which made the arduous task worthwhile. Cleaning was ass otherwise.
By the time you washed the grit from your hands thoroughly, they were back. Immediately when Ruby pushed the door open, you recognized that he was in no mild manner anymore. Scrim too had widened eyes. Being out of the house finally must have boosted morale. Or... they were drunk.

"Woah- it's almost fuckin' spotless in here.", Scrim closed the door and whisked towards you.

"And you're looking way more 'alive'.", you replied playfully.

He hugged your body from behind momentarily, "You can't just forget 'bout when I told you- I was already dead."

His breath plumed over your shoulder, thick with the scent of alcohol. Wherever they were, it was halfway fun. Ruby curled on the couch and rubbed his knuckles. The warmth under Scrim's skin at this point was definitely liquor.

"What were you two up to?"

Ruby rolled over so that his face was pressed into the couch and spoke into the fabric, "Recording 'n shit."

Scrim continued to rub your hip and lay his face into your neck clumsily. Ruby was suddenly mumbling on the phone behind you, fingers slipping on the case. His tongue wobbled and attempted to agree to some sort of terms.

"I dunno if you know Max, our photographer, but he's coming in to shoot for some EP cover ideas... uhhh probably edit some images for merch- whatever. He's coming over tomorrow and you can hang.", Scrim laid his face into your shoulder and buried himself there.
"Oh! Yeah, that's all totally cool."

Ruby was officially asleep on the couch. A section of his hair fluttered each time he exhaled.

Nothing felt real.

"Hey- uh, okay. That actually sounds nice. I'd love to switch up the routine."

Scrim's drunken eyes leapt and plunged. They looked saturated and glistened. His pupils widened, engulfing his iris into a black hole; they saw nothing. You wanted to toxify you body too, and enter his delusional world.
Your bodies slithered toward the kitchen as a two-headed snake. Your mouth was around a bottle, and Scrim watched eagerly. There was rejoicing when your words slurred during the following hushed chat. His arms drew you in and laid you onto fabric. It wasn't his bedroom; the sun was still pouring in.
The shape opposite to you was the couch Ruby laid on. Your own body was sprawled on a velvety plush chair where the lower half extended out.
Each kiss was thick was the taste of whiskey. Your hands were under his shirt, tracing where you knew the edges of tattoos laid. Our moment however, was short lived. Your alcohol induced escapades were no small binge. Your bodies instead were ravaged of strength, and soon you fell asleep into each other with fingers interlocked firmly.