The Older Prompt Meme Post
Welcome to the Glee Angst Meme again! You know how these things work. You can come here and prompt your most angsty prompts, and write stories filling those angsty prompts to let our characters suffer.
If a thread concerns you, please contact the moderators first before commenting as this helps to keep the self-moderation and potentiality of wank ( Read more... )
If a thread concerns you, please contact the moderators first before commenting as this helps to keep the self-moderation and potentiality of wank ( Read more... )
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You know you shouldn’t take the baggie from him. It’s suspicious. It doesn’t look like your usual shit. But you don’t care. It’s the rush you’re out for. The pain and suffering don’t matter.
So you quickly huff it up your nose. You want to rid yourself of the feeling of having it. Your nostrils burn like someone has set them on fire. But you know the feeling of euphoria will wash over quickly. So you wait, holding back your traitorous tears.
But it’s not like when you do the other stuff. The pleasure doesn’t come soon. You stand there, frozen. You want to be numb, like every other time. No. It hurts.
Suddenly your body’ on fire. You have to put it out. Your skin in peeling off and falling at your feet. Your bones are visible. Why isn’t anyone helping you? You are out in the open.
Ants crawl in and out of whatever holes they can. Your pores are opening up to release them. They don’t burn in the fire. They dance across your skin, engulfing you.
You need to get out of here. But the ground is so far away from each of your steps. You’re walking on a never-ending staircase. Each stair further down from the other.
You walk slowly, steadily. Waiting until your feet touch the ground. There’s many drop offs, so you must be careful. Your foot floats forever until it reaches the next step. You feel like your flying.
The ants are starting to bite. They dig their teeth into your exposed muscle and flesh. They tear it apart like it’s a piece of paper. You knock them off but more appear. They’re going to eat you alive!
You know where you need to go. He can help you. He can get the ants off and put out the fire. You can be safe with him.
Even through your paranoia hazed brain, you know where he is. It’s the house you know like your own. Which it has been to you ever since you got together. It’s the only place that cares for you. The only place that treats you like a person who needs love.
It takes you what feels like days to get there. You’re trying to shake off the ants and fire. That slows you down greatly. But you finally reach the front door.
It’s huge compared to you. It towers over your head. Blue and menacing.
You pound on it and hear an echo. Like it’s shouting at you. You shrivel up, scared. You don’t want the door to hurt you. You don’t want it to hit you, or tackle you.
It opens, revealing him. He stands before you with his usual flourish. But when he sees you on the ground sobbing, he softens.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, kneeling next to you. He rubs your back in a circle. You want to warn him that the ants will eat him. But they have already eaten your voice. Your vocal chords are being digested right now.
He doesn’t wait for you to answer. He helps you up. Wherever he touches, the ants go away. They fall off and scatter.
He leads you into the house and sits you down on the couch. His fingers are smooth like silk as they run down your cheeks. He looks you in the eyes.
You want to tell him not to cry. He looks like he’s about to. You want to be able to comfort him. But you can’t. You’re dying. He’s the only thing that can revive you.
He caresses your lips with a kiss. It’s delicate but healing. It makes the fire start to dim and sizzle. Embers fly off and land on the soft carpeting. It doesn’t ignite however.
He brings your head to his chest and hugs you tightly. His tears are like rain drops pounding on your head.
You close your eyes and feel him. He won’t set on fire. He’ll hold you until the fire is put out.
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