Is there ever a good reason to get blindingly drunk?

[dean_actually]

Dean sits down at his kitchen table, it's late at night and very quiet. He picks up a notepad and a pencil and starts scribbling on it. He brought the phone with him, the extension tangled near his feet. There's an half-empty glass in front of him, a bottle of scotch, and a business card waiting near the phone. He jots down a list...St. Patrick's

Comments

Re: replying to this (see below)

[dean_actually]

Dean hasn't been much himself lately and he's not particularly happy with how he has been behaving, and he knows he's all wrapped up in himself and what he wants, but still...it's difficult not to look in Curt's eyes, listen to his words and not see the heartbreaking soul-shattering living hell he is in.

Or that's what Dean feels about him and he might be wrong as he has been so many times lately, but he may be right. And it is only fair that if Curt asks, Dean'll answer him. Even if what he really feels like doing is being someone else, stronger, and wrap Curt up in a blanket and hold him while he sleeps and give sweet, peaceful dreams.

"I don't know. I don't fucking know what I feel, at that. I know what I want now, what I'm searching for, but ...I know I miss him like crazy, I know when he came home and told me he was getting married I went out and got so drunk I didn't find the way home for two days. Because he was leaving, leaving our place, leaving me...I hated him for that. For thinking that everything was fine, that we would have been the same. It wasn't like that."

Dean finishes his drink, looking at the bottle, pondering if another would hurt much. Looking up at Curt, at the way his fingers hold the fag, at how he's angry, inside.

Re: replying to this (see below)

[curtwildmuse]

"You should call him." Curt doesn't feel at all hypocritical; he crushes out what's left of his cigarette and has another deep sip of alcohol. "Just ask him."

[dean_actually]

"No," Dean shakes his head, pointing at Curt's cigarettes and silently asking for one. He has dropped his happy pills, a cig won't kill and tonight seems to be the night.

"No, I can't. What could I say? I am not sure if I wanted you to fuck me, so now I'm looking for other men to do that, and beat the shit out me in the meantime..." He shakes his head again.

"At least I know he's okay. Which is more than you can say...did you never tried? Finding him?"

[curtwildmuse]

Curt shakes a cigarette loose from the pack and hands it over. "I never tried. I dunno if I'm more afraid if he'd take me back or not."

[dean_actually]

"How long has it been? Since you last saw him?"

The cigarette feels good. And this conversation is twisting him in directions he didn't expect. And how can Curt be so...cold about it, and desperate at the same time.

[curtwildmuse]

"Been about ten years," Curt mutters, and tips his head down.

[dean_actually]

Dean looks at him. "Ten years?"

It's not difficult to make some calculations, not difficult at all.
"And in all this time, not a word, not a letter, nothing?"

And you've been carrying a torch for this fucker all this time, he thinks. "Your parents? Do they know where he is?"

God, he's dying to do something, anything, to make Curt lift his head.

[curtwildmuse]

"Hey." Curt does raise his head, but his eyes are angrier now, more bitter. Colder. "I'm ready to talk about something else now. I'm done with this subject."

[dean_actually]

Dean raises his hands in the air.

"Whatever you like," he says, understanding that there is something else there, that Curt is not saying and that makes him angry. Very angry.

"So, you said you had a band for a while. What do you do now?" Dean doesn't want Curt to leave, for many different reasons. But can't hold him if he wants to go.

[curtwildmuse]

Curt pulls in a breath, glad to finally be on a topic he's comfortable with. "I'm a whore," he says simply, and starts making preparations to light another cigarette.

[dean_actually]

"How come?" Dean asks, resting his elbows on the table. He's not shocked, or anything. Curt is certainly quite something in the looks department. Maybe he should have asked how much..

[curtwildmuse]

Curt shrugs. "What else is there to do? And sometimes I like it. Most people can't find a straight job like that."

[dean_actually]

"Don't tell me," Dean says. "And I guess, yes, straighter job then most. No tiptoeing about what the deal is. What's yours?"

Who knows, maybe he could find something interesting here. Learn something, even.

[curtwildmuse]

"What's what. My deal?" Curt runs a hand through his hair. "Thousand a night. Less than a night's two hundred an hour. Extra for rough shit." He isn't sure that's what Dean meant, but it's as good as segue into other conversation as he could hope for.

[dean_actually]

"What kind of rough shit?" Definitely an interest, there. He pours more for himself and offers the bottle to Curt.

[curtwildmuse]

Curt takes the bottle and tips some into his glass. "I can take it hard, and I like pain." He drinks some more. "Sometimes you just need to feel something. Something from outside instead of inside."