(no subject)
Josh: Now that Josh had fucked Parker, he felt more sufficiently like the asshole he was meant to be, and could thus, go through life accordingly. Admissions of love weren't him, flitting from person to person regardless of gender or sentimental attachment, that was him, and he was fucking good at it.
When he got back to the room, he looked in for Sam, not ready to face that horror yet, and flopped down on the bed with his backpack, at which time, he grabbed a cigarette and lit it up.
Sam: Not seven minutes later, Sam came around the corner and into the room fresh from the shower in clean shorts and a towel in his hair. He didn't so much as acknowledge Josh as he tossed the towel on the bed and proceeded to search for a shirt.
Why should he? It wasn't like Josh would fucking remember shit from when he was so coked out anyway. It wasn't like Sam wanted him to. But...fuck. The bastard didn't have to go and make him so fucking scared. Jesus.
Josh: Josh's eyes darted over to Sam, and he panicked for a moment. What the hell was he going to do? He didn't want to talk about it, and for all he knew.... Yes. For all he knew, it had just been the coke, and he wouldn't remember. He didn't have to remember.
"Hey, Sam!" Josh proclaimed as cheerfully as possible, toning it down for his sore throat.
Sam: Sam grunted a response, pulled on an old Metallica t-shirt and a pair of flip flops. "I'm going to go help clean up outside," he lied badly. He didn't give a damn what the fuck these people did. He had more pressing things on his mind.
Like the fact that Tony was just fucking...gone. Or that he'd told Josh a lot of shit he hadn't meant to. He may as well just go up on the roof and read for awhile or fuckin...do something.
Josh: Josh opened his mouth to speak, but was abruply cut off by a cough. Fuckin' coke had dried him out like crazy, and he leaned over and took a gulp of water.
"Shit, whatever the fuck I took last night fucked me up." He shook his head. "Somethin' the matter, bro?"
Sam: Sam closed his eyes and held his breath, mentally counting to ten. How one person could fuck him up so perfectly, he had no idea.
"Never do that again," he warned. Counting to ten, as usual, didn't do any fucking good. But that was all that he said on the subject before he slung his bag (and his refound headphones) on and ducked out of the room.
Josh: Do what, Sam? Tell you I love you? Trust me, not gonna happen, baby. And before the thought was fully completed, he was up and out the door, looking concerned.
"What the fuck are you talking about, dude? You were smoking weed, and that's the last thing I remember." Maybe he was playing it up too much, so he toned down. "It feels like I did some Coke, though."
Sam: Sam clenched his teeth and wished he'd turned on his music before he walked out of the room. Dramatically, he pulled his headphones down around his neck and levelled a look at Josh.
"Some coke? You did three fucking lines you cockjob. You were on the brink of fucking ODing. Never. Do. T hat. Again."
Josh: "It--" was only two. He was about to say that it was only two lines, but that would give him away, now wouldn't it? "Are you sure? Doesn't sound like me. And why don't I remember?"
Sam: "You're a fucktastic liar, Josh," Sam dedpanned and this time made fucking sure to turn on his Manson before he turned away. He had known Josh for too fucking long for this bullshit.
Josh: Fucktastic? That sounded more flattering than insulting. He'd been 'fucktastic' mere moments ago, and that was for damn sure. Either way, he lunged forward and unplugged Sam's CD player.
"What the fuck are you talking about?!"
Sam: And it would've continued to sound flattering so long as Josh managed not to pick up on Sam's brand of sarcasm. "You know exactly what the fuck I'm talking about and I'm not having this fucking conversation with you. Alright?" Jesus.
Josh: "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Josh called back, making sure he had Sam's undivided fucking attention. "You're freaking me out, because you know I don't like not knowing what I've done or where I've been and that's fucked up of you, Sam!" I'd like to thank the Academy...
Sam: Sam actually laughed at that and applauded slowly. Golf claps really. "Thanks Fabio. I'll be sure that one gets nominated for at least a Golden Globe. " He closed a few feet between them and continued to study Josh carefully.
"It's in your eyes, you fuckwit. I've known you since before I could toke up. And you know what, whatever it is you're thinking right now, I don't give a damn. Mkay?" It was just as clear that Sam was bullshitting Josh as much as Josh was bullshitting him.
Josh: Alright. If they were going to play the I-know-you game, Josh could play. He sensed Sam's desire to retreat (probably because he felt it, too) and grabbed his wrist before he could.
"Bullshit." He levelled a challanging gaze. You drop the pretense, so will I.
Sam: Sam wrenched it away again -- hard. He could feel red marks forming where Josh's hand had been. He was not having this argument in the fucking hallway. He turned and went back into the room. "What the fuck do you want me to do here? Actually act like I care so you can fucking laugh at me behind my back?"
Josh: "Do you care?" Was the first thing out of Josh's mouth when he appeared in the doorway, leaning predatorially against it. He knew the answer, but it was a pretty close admission from Sam, and he raised an eyebrow.
Sam: Sam's shoulders sagged, defeated. "You know I care, you moron," he said softly. "And you're going to leave just like every fucking body else so can we please get this over with?"
Josh: At that, Josh looked slightly bewildered and moved to stand at the edge of the bed.
"What the fuck are you talking about, headcase? I'm not going anywhere," he said as Sam were the simplest creature in the world for thinking something so stupid.
Sam: At that, Sam started listing names off of people that were important and now...gone. "My dad. Wilson. Jane. Tony. Johnny." Okay, well Johnny wasn't gone, but Sam hadn't seen him in like a month and so may as well have been. "Tell me why the fuck should I bother caring about anyone if this fucking Island is just going to take them away again?"
Josh: "Christ, Sam," Josh lamented, running a hand through his hair. It seemed as if he was mourning Sam's losses with him for a moment, until he continued. "Write a fucking song and get over it. You haven't gotten rid of me, yet."
Sam: Sam flopped down on the bed and stared at the floor. "If you're going to make fun of me for the shit I said when you were stoned then fucking do it and be done with it."
Josh: "I don't even fucking know what you said!" Josh insisted, but really, he had nothing to say. Did Sam just... forget the part where Josh had admitted to loving him back? What the fuck was that?
Sam: Sam was actually really good at missing stuff like that. "Look, I'm owning up to it, you wanna do the same or are you just going to sit here and fling your bullshit at me?"
Josh: Wait a minute.... Sam wasn't that good at bullshitting... He really didn't remember. How the fuck did someone forget something like that? Oh, Josh was pissed, now. As if someone could forget having the affection of someone as hot and unattainable as Josh! Stupid emo little shit.
"Alright. What do you want?"
Sam: It wasn't that he'd forgotten entirely, but that he'd dismissed it as just the ramblings of a man coked out of his mind. What do you want? Didn't they just have this conversation like two days ago? Damn.
"I want you to make fun of me and shit for it to just be over with so we can move onto some other bullshit."
Josh: Josh sighed and sat down on the bed next to Sam, swallowing hard before he brought his eyes up. "I'm not going to, Sam."
Sam: Sam was about to snap back a reply but then he stopped short. Confused, he rolled over and looked up at Josh. "Wait what?"
Josh: Josh turned and scowled.
"I didn't repeat myself last night, you should know damn well I'm not going to now," he snapped, then dropped his head because he really had no reason to snap.
FTB