[Rave] Nervous Breakdown (30kisses)
Title: Nervous Breakdown
Fandom: Rave
Pairing: Shuda/Sieg
Theme: 30_kisses #26 - if only I could make you mine
Warning: Drugs, pathetic Shuda, wasted Sieg, angst
Disclaimer: Umi-chii don’t own Rave. Hiro Mashima still does.
A/N: So while I was checking the theme list out of whim, I encountered this certain theme. It’s a really melodramatic and sad theme. Until you start listening to ABS’ Nervous Breakdown. Anyway, started writing this since ages ago, but stopped when muses ran away. And now, I’m back. Deadlines help.
Nervous Breakdown
For 30_kisses, #26
The room was heady; so heady with nicotine, so heady with marijuana, so heady with alcohol. The stench was so strong it made him gag when he entered the room. Even if more than half of the party people were gone from the conscious world, the music was still loud and eardrum splitting. Side stepping the mass of bodies lying around, all drunk and stoned, Shuda braved against the smell. He crossed the large room, batting away the smoke as if a wave of his arm could make them all disappear. Then there, he found it, at the farthest side of the room.
“Sieg?” He called out. He’s couldn’t identify each person, not with this kind of setting. Everything’s so confusing and so dark, just like a nightclub on Experiment City’s downtown on a wild Friday night. He tried calling out again, until his toe hit on something hard-probably a leg-and down he fell to his knees, arms bracing the fall.
“Damn,” he swore, looking over his shoulder to check on whoever had tripped him. “Just a stoned guy, like every one of them.” He ended up muttering to himself. Deftly, he picked himself up, watching not only what’s standing ahead of him, but also on what’s lying ahead of him. He didn’t need to crack his head while looking for his wild room mate.
“Sieg!”
A giggle answered him; the voice sounded so familiar it scared him. Shuda quickened his pace, trying his best not to step on anyone in his hurry. “Sieg!” He tried calling again, but the giggle only got louder, before it broke into a raspy moan.
Five more steps, then he finally found his room mate, drunk and high. Shuda outwardly grimaced at the sight of his usually proud room mate reduced to nothing but a cheap whore clinging to a man he didn’t recognize, moaning wantonly, half of his clothing already gone.
Or maybe he was wearing barely anything, Shuda thought. It’s not a really well-kept secret about Sieg’s wilder antics. That must be why so many tried to take advantage of him. It has to be.
“Suck it, baby,” he heard the stranger whispered that kind of husky voice that always made Sieg melt and him sick. He can’t take this anymore, not when he’s standing here left to watch unless he moved a muscle.
“Oi!” He yelled through the blaring audio system, walking up to the pair. When neither of the two took notice of him, (he nearly shrieked when Sieg went to his knees) he stepped forward and stilled his metaphorical lion. Yeah, his metaphorical lion that can roar.
“OI!” This time he screamed on top of his lungs, yanking Sieg’s arm along the way, snapping the blue-haired man’s jaw closed. “This guy’s mine!” He yelled as he pulled Sieg up to his wobbly legs, forcing his room mate to steady himself.
“What the fuck?!” The stranger in his pompous white suit had exclaimed, but Shuda didn’t really hear him, not when his ears were bleeding and he’s too busy worrying over Sieg’s poor state.
With another person’s deadweight on his arms, Shuda retraced his track back out of the place, willing to do anything just to get out of here and put Sieg somewhere safe and not suicidal.
--
Shuda grimaced audibly when Sieg suddenly took a double take and threw up on his running shoes. There goes another month’s worth of paycheck. Seriously, he must get Sieg to stop going these clubs, especially when Niebel’s now running for Academia Council president. It wouldn’t win Niebel much favor if people find out his brother is a gay strip-club regular.
“Oi…” He held the other by the arm as his other arm snaked around his waist. “Sieg?”
“Ngh…”
“Drunk again,” Shuda muttered to himself before he leaned the other on the alleyway’s wall. Sieg instantly fell to the ground, dragging the redhead along with him. “Oi!”
“Shut up…”
Startled, Shuda stared at his fallen friend for a while, deep into the look of pain blatantly displayed. Cautiously, he pushed back a strand of hair (thank God he’s too drunk to realize this), tucking it behind an ear.
‘Sieg?” He tried again, but the other didn’t respond. Sieg was already out cold.
With a defeated sigh, he took the heavy load onto his hands, like the reluctant hero that he couldn’t help but portray.
--
“Yeah, yeah…”
His head hurt. He had been staring at a ceiling fan that he knew shouldn’t be in his room for the past five minutes, until he realized he also didn’t sleep on a bed that’s literally attached to the wall. And that his room wasn’t so rundown like this.
“I know… what I heard…”
Turning his head, Sieg searched for this room’s owner. His eyes landed on Shuda, who’s still talking rather despairingly to the phone. He had been there for more than the past five minutes, judging that he did wake up to Shuda trying not to wake him up with his loud voice. Well, too bad he failed at that.
“Oi.” Sieg rudely called him. Shuda didn’t look his way, and instead, turned away as his voice lowered into whispers.
Sieg grabbed the dying, red alarm next to him and hurled it. It satisfied him a little when he heard a cry of pain.
“Pay attention when I call you.”
“I’m not your bitch.” The redhead snapped back, phone forgotten on the floor. “And damn it, don’t throw your crap at me.”
“It’s broken anyway.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Shuda growled, putting away the broken clock. Damn, there went another one. Sieg watched him carefully, noting how those biceps suddenly bulged then relaxed as if trying to calm down.
Then suddenly his head whirled and he groaned as blinding white burst out behind his eyelids, marching dwarves with hammers and pick axes started mining in his brain in the middle of an on-going mother of all rock concerts.
Totally not the best thing to wake up with. What the hell had he swallowed last night?
“Here,” he heard the dorky redhead muttered to him, and blindly, he groped for whatever Shuda’s handing. It took three tries before Shuda sighed in frustration, grabbing his mouth in a tight grip and meshed their lips together, tongue and fingers forcing his mouth open wide enough for water and what he assumed was an aspirin down his throat. The damn medicine was rough and painful to the throat even with the water (then again, lots spilled when he gagged) and he coughed and would had puked it out if Shuda wasn’t a damn bastard and kept his mouth literally shut.
“That’s what you get for always getting wasted,” Shuda chastised him (what the fuck?) like them good for nothing prefect he used to be; only the effect was ruined when he sounded too breathy to be tolerable.
Annoyed, he shoved the redhead away, glaring as well. “Stay the fuck away,” he growled, though he had to think real hard to focus on the root of his annoyance. Just what the fuck is wrong with him?
It pissed him off even more when Shuda only looked apologetic, staring at him sympathetically as if he needed any of it. Why does the damn moron always take up the role of a useless martyr?
Shuda turned away, grabbing his coat and wallet.
“I have to buy something. Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave. You can leave the key underneath the doormat.”
And then the redhead left just like that, because he knew that bastard can’t handle facing him like a man. That coward always ran away from every fight. Couldn’t even properly toss him out of his own house.
With a groan, Sieg flopped back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. He’ll leave in an hour, five minutes exactly before Shuda would stop hesitating and enter his own house.
END
Fandom: Rave
Pairing: Shuda/Sieg
Theme: 30_kisses #26 - if only I could make you mine
Warning: Drugs, pathetic Shuda, wasted Sieg, angst
Disclaimer: Umi-chii don’t own Rave. Hiro Mashima still does.
A/N: So while I was checking the theme list out of whim, I encountered this certain theme. It’s a really melodramatic and sad theme. Until you start listening to ABS’ Nervous Breakdown. Anyway, started writing this since ages ago, but stopped when muses ran away. And now, I’m back. Deadlines help.
Nervous Breakdown
For 30_kisses, #26
The room was heady; so heady with nicotine, so heady with marijuana, so heady with alcohol. The stench was so strong it made him gag when he entered the room. Even if more than half of the party people were gone from the conscious world, the music was still loud and eardrum splitting. Side stepping the mass of bodies lying around, all drunk and stoned, Shuda braved against the smell. He crossed the large room, batting away the smoke as if a wave of his arm could make them all disappear. Then there, he found it, at the farthest side of the room.
“Sieg?” He called out. He’s couldn’t identify each person, not with this kind of setting. Everything’s so confusing and so dark, just like a nightclub on Experiment City’s downtown on a wild Friday night. He tried calling out again, until his toe hit on something hard-probably a leg-and down he fell to his knees, arms bracing the fall.
“Damn,” he swore, looking over his shoulder to check on whoever had tripped him. “Just a stoned guy, like every one of them.” He ended up muttering to himself. Deftly, he picked himself up, watching not only what’s standing ahead of him, but also on what’s lying ahead of him. He didn’t need to crack his head while looking for his wild room mate.
“Sieg!”
A giggle answered him; the voice sounded so familiar it scared him. Shuda quickened his pace, trying his best not to step on anyone in his hurry. “Sieg!” He tried calling again, but the giggle only got louder, before it broke into a raspy moan.
Five more steps, then he finally found his room mate, drunk and high. Shuda outwardly grimaced at the sight of his usually proud room mate reduced to nothing but a cheap whore clinging to a man he didn’t recognize, moaning wantonly, half of his clothing already gone.
Or maybe he was wearing barely anything, Shuda thought. It’s not a really well-kept secret about Sieg’s wilder antics. That must be why so many tried to take advantage of him. It has to be.
“Suck it, baby,” he heard the stranger whispered that kind of husky voice that always made Sieg melt and him sick. He can’t take this anymore, not when he’s standing here left to watch unless he moved a muscle.
“Oi!” He yelled through the blaring audio system, walking up to the pair. When neither of the two took notice of him, (he nearly shrieked when Sieg went to his knees) he stepped forward and stilled his metaphorical lion. Yeah, his metaphorical lion that can roar.
“OI!” This time he screamed on top of his lungs, yanking Sieg’s arm along the way, snapping the blue-haired man’s jaw closed. “This guy’s mine!” He yelled as he pulled Sieg up to his wobbly legs, forcing his room mate to steady himself.
“What the fuck?!” The stranger in his pompous white suit had exclaimed, but Shuda didn’t really hear him, not when his ears were bleeding and he’s too busy worrying over Sieg’s poor state.
With another person’s deadweight on his arms, Shuda retraced his track back out of the place, willing to do anything just to get out of here and put Sieg somewhere safe and not suicidal.
--
Shuda grimaced audibly when Sieg suddenly took a double take and threw up on his running shoes. There goes another month’s worth of paycheck. Seriously, he must get Sieg to stop going these clubs, especially when Niebel’s now running for Academia Council president. It wouldn’t win Niebel much favor if people find out his brother is a gay strip-club regular.
“Oi…” He held the other by the arm as his other arm snaked around his waist. “Sieg?”
“Ngh…”
“Drunk again,” Shuda muttered to himself before he leaned the other on the alleyway’s wall. Sieg instantly fell to the ground, dragging the redhead along with him. “Oi!”
“Shut up…”
Startled, Shuda stared at his fallen friend for a while, deep into the look of pain blatantly displayed. Cautiously, he pushed back a strand of hair (thank God he’s too drunk to realize this), tucking it behind an ear.
‘Sieg?” He tried again, but the other didn’t respond. Sieg was already out cold.
With a defeated sigh, he took the heavy load onto his hands, like the reluctant hero that he couldn’t help but portray.
--
“Yeah, yeah…”
His head hurt. He had been staring at a ceiling fan that he knew shouldn’t be in his room for the past five minutes, until he realized he also didn’t sleep on a bed that’s literally attached to the wall. And that his room wasn’t so rundown like this.
“I know… what I heard…”
Turning his head, Sieg searched for this room’s owner. His eyes landed on Shuda, who’s still talking rather despairingly to the phone. He had been there for more than the past five minutes, judging that he did wake up to Shuda trying not to wake him up with his loud voice. Well, too bad he failed at that.
“Oi.” Sieg rudely called him. Shuda didn’t look his way, and instead, turned away as his voice lowered into whispers.
Sieg grabbed the dying, red alarm next to him and hurled it. It satisfied him a little when he heard a cry of pain.
“Pay attention when I call you.”
“I’m not your bitch.” The redhead snapped back, phone forgotten on the floor. “And damn it, don’t throw your crap at me.”
“It’s broken anyway.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Shuda growled, putting away the broken clock. Damn, there went another one. Sieg watched him carefully, noting how those biceps suddenly bulged then relaxed as if trying to calm down.
Then suddenly his head whirled and he groaned as blinding white burst out behind his eyelids, marching dwarves with hammers and pick axes started mining in his brain in the middle of an on-going mother of all rock concerts.
Totally not the best thing to wake up with. What the hell had he swallowed last night?
“Here,” he heard the dorky redhead muttered to him, and blindly, he groped for whatever Shuda’s handing. It took three tries before Shuda sighed in frustration, grabbing his mouth in a tight grip and meshed their lips together, tongue and fingers forcing his mouth open wide enough for water and what he assumed was an aspirin down his throat. The damn medicine was rough and painful to the throat even with the water (then again, lots spilled when he gagged) and he coughed and would had puked it out if Shuda wasn’t a damn bastard and kept his mouth literally shut.
“That’s what you get for always getting wasted,” Shuda chastised him (what the fuck?) like them good for nothing prefect he used to be; only the effect was ruined when he sounded too breathy to be tolerable.
Annoyed, he shoved the redhead away, glaring as well. “Stay the fuck away,” he growled, though he had to think real hard to focus on the root of his annoyance. Just what the fuck is wrong with him?
It pissed him off even more when Shuda only looked apologetic, staring at him sympathetically as if he needed any of it. Why does the damn moron always take up the role of a useless martyr?
Shuda turned away, grabbing his coat and wallet.
“I have to buy something. Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave. You can leave the key underneath the doormat.”
And then the redhead left just like that, because he knew that bastard can’t handle facing him like a man. That coward always ran away from every fight. Couldn’t even properly toss him out of his own house.
With a groan, Sieg flopped back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. He’ll leave in an hour, five minutes exactly before Shuda would stop hesitating and enter his own house.
END