Dribble Drabble Black Fire

It’s been a rough week.  I feel too worn and raw to post about life today.  But I have this stupid every day posting commitment that SOMEBODY thought was a good idea (Nice job ghost of Shadow past…), so I’m going to write a story snippet.

I hate this.  I hate sharing writing at all, and even more if it is unprepared writing, but I’m going to post raw writing (cringe) because… just… because…

Somewhere in the next chapter of Black Fire…

Rick turned his face toward the window.  He was wearing a too-big hoodie that hung past his hands, he had showered but hadn’t styled his hair and it lay flat against his skull.  It made him, David thought, look younger.  Vulnerable.

“Go away,” Rick muttered without turning as David shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot in the open doorway.  The common room was furnished with blocky, upholstered armchairs and a couch.  A currently dark television occupied one corner of the room.  Magazines littered a heavy wooden coffee table with smooth, round corners.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Rick turned abruptly, his voice hard and angry.  “You’re sorry I’m a loser fuck-up?  You’re sorry I put myself in this shithole?  You’re sorry whatever fucking savior complex you have compels you to show up here every day?  Just leave, for fuck’s sake!  You have no fucking reason to be here!”

David opened his mouth but then closed it again.  Rick stood for a moment, breathing hard, then his gaze abruptly slid away from David’s face and he turned back to the window, his shoulders hunched.

David hesitated for another moment, then his jaw hardened and he strode into the room.  “No.”  The uncertainty was gone from his voice.  “I am your friend.  I am here because I care about you.  If you want me to leave, I will leave.  But you can ask me with basic courtesy and respect.”  He crossed his arms over his chest.

Rick turned back to him, an incredulous expression on his face.  “You want me to ask nicely?”

David answered him with a silent and stony expression.

Rick met his stare for a moment before shaking his head with a bitter laugh.  “Fuck you, David.  Go to hell.”

David went to one of the arm chairs and settled himself into it.  “I have until 4 o’clock today.”

Rick looked at him, then at the ceiling, muttering under his breath, and finally turned back to the window.  He tried to focus on the manicured grass, the concrete bird bath, the grain of the tall, wooden privacy fence surrounding the small courtyard.  But David’s silent presence behind him was a physical pressure against his back.  He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

Rick’s back was beginning to ache from standing in the same position for so long.  His forehead against the glass had become chilled to the point of discomfort, but still he refused to move until he heard a rustle of cloth behind him.  His attention focused sharply, but he didn’t allow himself to look.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” David said.  His footsteps moved toward the doorway, then paused.  “I love you.”

Rick’s jaw tightened and his breath quickened, but he didn’t move until David’s footsteps had faded down the hallway and he heard the magnetic locks clack as the thick doors at the end of the unit were opened then pulled themselves closed again.

Finally, Rick allowed himself to twist his body away from the window.  His eyes darted to the large digital clock above the TV.  Four o’clock.

His face tightened and he turned back to the window, pulling the hood up over his head, down over his eyes, then he sank down, curling into himself until he huddled over his knees beside the baseboard and his breath snagged in his chest, finally ripping out of him a choked sob.

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