Failures always sounded better.
Summary: And so he had become something different. Something more than he ever thought that he would, and yet he had no desire to pull himself out of it. He had no desire to change it, and there way no way that he could have known. // There was no way that he could have known how much that stranger would change his life, starting from the night that he slipped in through the back door in his pressed suit and polished shoes, taking a seat near the back and looking like he definitely didn’t belong here.
A/N: Well, here's Chapter One! I don't know if anyone was waiting on this at all or remembers the prologue, but this just came to me. I hope that you guys like it, if you choose to read it~ It's my first dark chaptered fic.
| Prologue |
It wasn’t meant to last forever.
It was like a mantra, slow, torturous, drawn and stretched across his every last nerve and yet he still couldn’t get that sing song voice out of his head. All good things come to an end. Nothing gold can stay. But he wasn’t gold. A bitter smile curved his chapped lips as he shook his head, nearly falling against the stone wall of the building but catching his balance in time. No, he wasn’t gold. Just tarnished silver.
And that was all that he would ever be.
X
The club was closed down. Not because of health violations or any hand of authority, but simply because the owner couldn’t handle it anymore. Customers were dwindling again, and no matter how hard he worked, he couldn’t get them back. There had to be something pulling them away. Some sort of competition, and they were always falling short. Always falling short no matter how fucking hard he worked. It was disgusting.
But he still made a profit.
It wasn’t hard, not whenever there wasn’t anywhere to go at night. Easier at night, whenever he hung around the broken walls of buildings that used to be respectable and waited. Waited for someone who might be willing to take him, to have him. But he didn’t come cheap. It was a strict routine and if they didn’t have the money they didn’t get what they were looking for. He hadn’t lost all of his dignity. Not yet. He was still young, after all.
Many nights he spent in the company of strangers. Faces blended into sounds and smells and everything in between, none of them memorable enough to earn a second chance. In the mornings he would slip away from their beds easily, body still covered in sweat and anything that they had decided to leave behind, but he always had something curled in his fist and it made it that much easier to get through the rest of the day.
They didn’t always pay with money. He was willing to strike a deal once in a while, as long as there was enough for him to get a high. Drugs weren’t uncommon, weren’t unfamiliar and certainly weren’t free. But if someone was willing to offer him a needle in exchange for sex then he would take it up without thinking. Food could wait. An escape was even better.
It was like some sort of twisted fairy tale, a reality that he didn’t want to believe. He knew that it was there, knew that it was happening, but someday he would be okay. Someday he would come out of it, wouldn’t he? Someday.
Someday something would come along and sweep him up off of his feet. Something would take him away to a place where it didn’t matter anymore.
But those were thoughts that only crossed his mind right before he fell asleep in the arms of a stranger.
X
Pushing himself up off of the cold stone wall, he tried to bring the world back into focus around him. Spinning lights and sounds and smoke and he shouldn’t have filled it up past the line but God, he had needed it.
There was a dull buzzing in his ears and his stomach threatened to coil in and implode upon itself, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as he leaned forward slightly. It was never a pleasant experience, but once it was over he had to rest against the wall and try to catch his breath, deciding that someone else could take care of the mess on the pavement. More than likely it would simply stay there, but it didn’t bother him. He wouldn’t be staying here.
One step forward. Two. Three, and his shoulder hit the wall hard and he didn’t remember losing his balance, didn’t remember his lungs hurting so much or the way that he couldn’t stop coughing.
“Awe, the little baby’s sick.”
The voice was gruff and barely enough of a warning before the feeling of fingers curling in his hair, tugging up and he tried not to grimace at the pain. Eyes were unfocused but he could still smell the stench of sex and alcohol, something he should’ve been accustomed to by now but for some reason it was different here.
“Why don’t you come with me, baby? I’ll show you a good time.”
The voice was now a hot breath against his ear, his back pressed against something solid and warm and a hand was snaking its way down his chest, over his stomach, making him want to empty it even though there was nothing left to dispose of. His tongue felt too heavy to move. Much too heavy for him to speak.
“No,” he managed to croak, and the hand stopped.
The silence was enough of a warning, but then he was slammed against the wall and slipping down, colliding with the pavement and the pain was so dull he wasn’t sure it had even really happened to him.
“What the fuck did you say to me?”
Not a whisper anymore. Now it was a snarl, still pressed to his ear and the way that a strong had was forcing his head into the gravel made him grimace, struggling to get him off, to get up, but it was useless. He barely knew where his arm was, let alone how to move it.
“Don’t touch him.”
The voice was new, different and familiar all at the same time. He had no idea where it was coming from or who it could possibly be because he was starting to forget his name or where he was in the first place.
He heard a distant scuffle, muttered threats and names tossed into the spaces between him before the man from before finally decided to take his leave.
There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him, asking him what his name was and what was he doing out here and could he hear him? Of course he could hear him, he wasn’t deaf, what a stupid question, and he found himself croaking answers that his mind didn’t even have time to process.
“Max.”
Max, yes, Max. Of course. His name was Max he was sure but he didn’t like the way that it felt whenever this person tried to make him sit up and there was something wet on the side of his face followed by a gasp of ‘oh my god’ and the unmistakable click of a cellular phone.
X
He remembered bits and pieces. The feeling of the gravel and the sound of a voice he recognized from somewhere off in the distance.
He remembered the sour taste in his throat and the way his tongue felt like it was covered in something sharp.
He remembered the car. A big, black, shiny car and then nothing.
Nothing but tarnished silver.
A/N: Well, here's Chapter One! I don't know if anyone was waiting on this at all or remembers the prologue, but this just came to me. I hope that you guys like it, if you choose to read it~ It's my first dark chaptered fic.
| Prologue |
It wasn’t meant to last forever.
It was like a mantra, slow, torturous, drawn and stretched across his every last nerve and yet he still couldn’t get that sing song voice out of his head. All good things come to an end. Nothing gold can stay. But he wasn’t gold. A bitter smile curved his chapped lips as he shook his head, nearly falling against the stone wall of the building but catching his balance in time. No, he wasn’t gold. Just tarnished silver.
And that was all that he would ever be.
X
The club was closed down. Not because of health violations or any hand of authority, but simply because the owner couldn’t handle it anymore. Customers were dwindling again, and no matter how hard he worked, he couldn’t get them back. There had to be something pulling them away. Some sort of competition, and they were always falling short. Always falling short no matter how fucking hard he worked. It was disgusting.
But he still made a profit.
It wasn’t hard, not whenever there wasn’t anywhere to go at night. Easier at night, whenever he hung around the broken walls of buildings that used to be respectable and waited. Waited for someone who might be willing to take him, to have him. But he didn’t come cheap. It was a strict routine and if they didn’t have the money they didn’t get what they were looking for. He hadn’t lost all of his dignity. Not yet. He was still young, after all.
Many nights he spent in the company of strangers. Faces blended into sounds and smells and everything in between, none of them memorable enough to earn a second chance. In the mornings he would slip away from their beds easily, body still covered in sweat and anything that they had decided to leave behind, but he always had something curled in his fist and it made it that much easier to get through the rest of the day.
They didn’t always pay with money. He was willing to strike a deal once in a while, as long as there was enough for him to get a high. Drugs weren’t uncommon, weren’t unfamiliar and certainly weren’t free. But if someone was willing to offer him a needle in exchange for sex then he would take it up without thinking. Food could wait. An escape was even better.
It was like some sort of twisted fairy tale, a reality that he didn’t want to believe. He knew that it was there, knew that it was happening, but someday he would be okay. Someday he would come out of it, wouldn’t he? Someday.
Someday something would come along and sweep him up off of his feet. Something would take him away to a place where it didn’t matter anymore.
But those were thoughts that only crossed his mind right before he fell asleep in the arms of a stranger.
X
Pushing himself up off of the cold stone wall, he tried to bring the world back into focus around him. Spinning lights and sounds and smoke and he shouldn’t have filled it up past the line but God, he had needed it.
There was a dull buzzing in his ears and his stomach threatened to coil in and implode upon itself, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as he leaned forward slightly. It was never a pleasant experience, but once it was over he had to rest against the wall and try to catch his breath, deciding that someone else could take care of the mess on the pavement. More than likely it would simply stay there, but it didn’t bother him. He wouldn’t be staying here.
One step forward. Two. Three, and his shoulder hit the wall hard and he didn’t remember losing his balance, didn’t remember his lungs hurting so much or the way that he couldn’t stop coughing.
“Awe, the little baby’s sick.”
The voice was gruff and barely enough of a warning before the feeling of fingers curling in his hair, tugging up and he tried not to grimace at the pain. Eyes were unfocused but he could still smell the stench of sex and alcohol, something he should’ve been accustomed to by now but for some reason it was different here.
“Why don’t you come with me, baby? I’ll show you a good time.”
The voice was now a hot breath against his ear, his back pressed against something solid and warm and a hand was snaking its way down his chest, over his stomach, making him want to empty it even though there was nothing left to dispose of. His tongue felt too heavy to move. Much too heavy for him to speak.
“No,” he managed to croak, and the hand stopped.
The silence was enough of a warning, but then he was slammed against the wall and slipping down, colliding with the pavement and the pain was so dull he wasn’t sure it had even really happened to him.
“What the fuck did you say to me?”
Not a whisper anymore. Now it was a snarl, still pressed to his ear and the way that a strong had was forcing his head into the gravel made him grimace, struggling to get him off, to get up, but it was useless. He barely knew where his arm was, let alone how to move it.
“Don’t touch him.”
The voice was new, different and familiar all at the same time. He had no idea where it was coming from or who it could possibly be because he was starting to forget his name or where he was in the first place.
He heard a distant scuffle, muttered threats and names tossed into the spaces between him before the man from before finally decided to take his leave.
There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him, asking him what his name was and what was he doing out here and could he hear him? Of course he could hear him, he wasn’t deaf, what a stupid question, and he found himself croaking answers that his mind didn’t even have time to process.
“Max.”
Max, yes, Max. Of course. His name was Max he was sure but he didn’t like the way that it felt whenever this person tried to make him sit up and there was something wet on the side of his face followed by a gasp of ‘oh my god’ and the unmistakable click of a cellular phone.
X
He remembered bits and pieces. The feeling of the gravel and the sound of a voice he recognized from somewhere off in the distance.
He remembered the sour taste in his throat and the way his tongue felt like it was covered in something sharp.
He remembered the car. A big, black, shiny car and then nothing.
Nothing but tarnished silver.