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Smile, and the world smiles with you.
Oct. 13th, 2009 12:38 amThe night was long and peaceful. Maybe more than any J has had in a long time...maybe in all of his life, if you don't count being drugged as 'sleep'. The injuries and shock are partially to blame for the deep sleep, of course, but this isn't the risky coma of post-shock. It's the first conscious orgasm he's head in years, probably the most healthy he's ever had, and a warm protective body wrapped around him. One he doesn't trust not to hurt him, no, but trusts not to leave him or expect anything of him. Everything before the hotel is flashes, still images, and vague fuzzy memories, at best. All he knows, when he wakes, is things have changed. Everything has changed. And he's in pain.
J wakes with blood in his mouth and old memories with the same bitter, copper taste still lingering in the back of his mind. Jeannie. Making himself disappear. Everything that came after. It smells like sex in the room. Of course it does... He rubs his face and his palms run over the bandages and stitching and snag. It pulls, he hisses, and he begins feeling over the wounds. It's...there's so much...
He slides out of the bed. Away from Mitch. Away from more contact than he's ever just allowed before. J feels weak and dizzy when he gets to his feet. He needs to get some water, something to eat, get his strength back up. He puts a hand on the wall and makes his way to the bathroom. He's naked and his thighs feel sticky as he walks. He doesn't know how to feel about that. He knows what he did --or, what he let Mitch do-- and knows he normally wouldn't. He also knows he enjoyed it.
Once he gets the bathroom light switched on, though, there are more important things to worry about than what a little sexual deviancy means for their friendship. As he blinks the blur from his eyes and adjusts to the harsh white lighting, he sees the bandages, the exposed stitching, and the blood soaking through gauze to make a wide, red smile on an otherwise tired and miserable face. ...His face is ruined... His mouth is torn apart in three directions. A wide, broken smile ruining what he never saw as other's did but knew were angelic features.
'You're so beautiful. Like an angel.', she told him. Now he looks like a monster.
He screams, pulling at the wounds and prompting them to start bleeding again.
"No! No no NO!!!"
Huge cracks spiderweb across the glass under J's fist and his blood trickles down from his knuckles, following the paths of the cracks. His image splinters with the glass, showing multiple of his newly mutilated visage.
'...Like it's my fault? it's because he's a fucking monster, Caroline, and monster's don't have feelings! What, d'you hear that you fuckin' little monster? Jesus, look at 'im! He doesn't even care! He knows what he is. Don'cha? Just smilin' like it'll make it all better. Yer mom's cryin' because of you! You need t'smile bigger than that!'
A big red smile made of blood and wounds belies his sadness and rage, not matter what expression he tries to make. A big, stupid, fake grin. There are tears streaking down his cheeks and he realizes his throat is hoarse, so he must have screamed more times than he's aware of. He brings his bleeding hand up to his face and smears the blood across to more exaggerate the smile, nearly from ear to ear, and replaces his own screams with loud, manic, laughter he feels powerless to stop.
J wakes with blood in his mouth and old memories with the same bitter, copper taste still lingering in the back of his mind. Jeannie. Making himself disappear. Everything that came after. It smells like sex in the room. Of course it does... He rubs his face and his palms run over the bandages and stitching and snag. It pulls, he hisses, and he begins feeling over the wounds. It's...there's so much...
He slides out of the bed. Away from Mitch. Away from more contact than he's ever just allowed before. J feels weak and dizzy when he gets to his feet. He needs to get some water, something to eat, get his strength back up. He puts a hand on the wall and makes his way to the bathroom. He's naked and his thighs feel sticky as he walks. He doesn't know how to feel about that. He knows what he did --or, what he let Mitch do-- and knows he normally wouldn't. He also knows he enjoyed it.
Once he gets the bathroom light switched on, though, there are more important things to worry about than what a little sexual deviancy means for their friendship. As he blinks the blur from his eyes and adjusts to the harsh white lighting, he sees the bandages, the exposed stitching, and the blood soaking through gauze to make a wide, red smile on an otherwise tired and miserable face. ...His face is ruined... His mouth is torn apart in three directions. A wide, broken smile ruining what he never saw as other's did but knew were angelic features.
'You're so beautiful. Like an angel.', she told him. Now he looks like a monster.
He screams, pulling at the wounds and prompting them to start bleeding again.
"No! No no NO!!!"
Huge cracks spiderweb across the glass under J's fist and his blood trickles down from his knuckles, following the paths of the cracks. His image splinters with the glass, showing multiple of his newly mutilated visage.
'...Like it's my fault? it's because he's a fucking monster, Caroline, and monster's don't have feelings! What, d'you hear that you fuckin' little monster? Jesus, look at 'im! He doesn't even care! He knows what he is. Don'cha? Just smilin' like it'll make it all better. Yer mom's cryin' because of you! You need t'smile bigger than that!'
A big red smile made of blood and wounds belies his sadness and rage, not matter what expression he tries to make. A big, stupid, fake grin. There are tears streaking down his cheeks and he realizes his throat is hoarse, so he must have screamed more times than he's aware of. He brings his bleeding hand up to his face and smears the blood across to more exaggerate the smile, nearly from ear to ear, and replaces his own screams with loud, manic, laughter he feels powerless to stop.
