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limenysnocket · 4 years ago

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Attention and Company

I couldn't help myself. @honorarytenenbaum

Summary: Sometimes you need someone to chill with, and that's okay. Maybe that person is your boyfriend who also gets a little roughed up at work sometimes. Pubs can sustain you both for only so long, but what you really need is to curb yourselves in the mall parking lot, right next to a shaved ice food truck.

Warnings: Just some light swearing, a bit of angst, a lot of fluff, and some brief mentions to "raunchy" behavior. This is a soft fic for y'all tonight, out here needin' some gentle lovin'.

A/N: Got some lonely feelings right now. I just wanna hug someone, dude. Yo, we could totally watch a movie over discord sometime... maybe.

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Today sucked. Flat out. The bags under your eyes didn't lie, and now here you were, outside of your studio, sitting on the hood of your car, eating a granola bar to stave off hunger for a few more hours. Hopefully.

You pull your phone from your pocket, looking at the time for a moment, then looking at your screensaver. It was the only thing that could make you smile. You had your arm wrapped around one of your closets friends, Taika, and the phone didn't capture it, but he had his arm wrapped around your waist. His curls were all messed up, and the picture perfectly showed how drunk you both were by the fuzzy pink on your cheeks. It was 99 cent beer night at one of the local pubs, and unlike the first one held at a baseball game, all went well.

Of course, there was a limit to how much the two of you were allowed to drink, but that didn't stop the many failed attempts at stealing other people's drinks while they were looking away, just to get a taste more. Didn't matter that you guys were eventually thrown out of the bar for breaking rules and coming close to breaking a few faces, you had a great night.

That night also lead to a few other places, including his hotel room, but that end of the story has to be saved for another time.

Instead of staring at your phone for another century, you decide to unlock it and dial the man up. You knew he was somewhere around here, either charming his way onto another movie set to mess with his rich friends, or getting his tired ass kicked by daylight savings.

His number was saved to your favorites, so dialing him was quick and easy. The wait for him to pick up didn't last long either.

"Talk to me..."

God, his voice sounds like one big yawn. Looks like he needs a bit of perking up too.

"I've got two curbside tickets to eat a snow cone and watch kids do loops on their bikes in the parking lot. One of those tickets has your name on them," you grin, despite sounding exhausted too. The day really made you strain your voice.

His musical laughter really makes the sun look brighter from its low position in the sky.

"That's oddly specific... where would these magical tickets take me afterwards?" He had cocked his eyebrows up and leaned against his office door while he spoke to you.

"If this were a booty call, I would have told you already, Taik," you snort and tease him. "So, it's either make yourself fat on some weirdly flavored snow cone, or take your horny-ass home."

"Okay, okay... I'd like to make myself fat for a night, as long as your there," his voice is dreamy, desperate and warm. "You there already?"

"Nope," your lips pop the p, "but I'm nearby."

"I swear to God, if you're talking and driving, I'm gonna whoop your ass," Taika stood up, acting serious when he was just really worried about your safety in general.

"I'm not, I'm fine," you laugh again. "Not even in the car. Sitting on it though, trying to convince the world's sexiest man to go out with me again."

"And you said this wasn't a booty call," he retorts over the phone, making you playfully glare at the asphalt on the road. It's like he's in front of you.

"You coming or not?" you change the subject and you hear him laugh again, but softer.

"Yeah... I'll be there in a few minutes, gorgeous."

He always made goodbyes so easy. Maybe it was because you both knew you would be seeing each other again, no matter what circumstances you were thrown into. But the dial tone still had its effects.

You slip off the hood of your car, and take a seat in the driver's seat. The warm summer air makes your skin glow, and your brain went fuzzy only imagining it doing the same to Taika.

The drive feels so quiet. For a moment, you actually thought about calling him again, but you knew for a fact that he wouldn't pick up if he was driving.

As predicted, kids are zooming around on their bikes, showing off to their friends or trying to be cool, even though they all were obviously teary-eyed each time they scraped a knee. It was amusing to you and Taika, especially when some of the older boys would try to catch your attention and zip past you and Taika. It ended up being a heckle fest in the end, and some kid always went home with his butt hurt.

Keys and wallet in hand, you trek to the small, blue trailer tucked in the corner of the parking lot.

"Damn, you must have beat me here by just a few seconds," Taika calls, rustling his way through the small spaces between a couple of cars.

"Well, you've never been a speed demon type, so last place is your calling when it comes to racing," you guwaf and grin at him. He rolls his eyes and comes to walk right next to you.

"I pride myself on road safety," he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

You glance at him from the side, just to silently check up on him. His hair was tousled and his eyes were resteless. It looks like he had it rough from the start. He had struggled to get dressed this morning, but picked the most eccentric clothes in his closet to make up from his lack of sleep.

"Dare you to try the dill pickle flavor this time," his cocky tone wakes you up.

"Like hell I will," you snort as you finally reach the trailer, where a teen boy happily greets the both of you.

"Oh come on, it'll be funny," he eggs you on, his bottom lip pouting.

"Keep trying to make me get dill pickle, and the next time we have a movie night together, I'm getting the pizza," you sniff and he rolls his eyes. He thinks it is an odd threat. "And I'm making it all Hawaiian pizza." That got his attention.

"Bull shit, you would never. Not on a perfectly good pizza!" He gasps.

"Oh, just watch me, pineapple boy," you snicker and point to his pineapple print shorts. You break conversation to order two piña colada flavored snow cones. Taika usually took for-fucking-ever when it came to picking a single flavor, so ever since the second time you've been out here with him, he assigned you to choose for him. He usually got what you got.

Now, you wait.

You plop yourself down on the curb, as you promised, and he joined you with a long, loud groan. You give him a bewildered stare, wondering if his age had really gotten him this much. He smiles at you through a wince.

"Sat on my keys," he wheezes and chuckles at his own stupidity under his breath.

Your eyes float down to where he pulls out his keys and you start giggling quietly.

"Oh, come on, I'm sure you've done the same thing," Taika says, not handling the fact that you have new material to mess with him, and also trying to get some stories out of you.

"Well yeah, but I don't sit down as violently as you do," you prod his bicep, and he laughs.

"Such a lady. Must sit down gracefully and slowly," he says, mocking an English accent, but he was horrible at accents so of course it was bad. You smack his bicep this time, and he playfully flinches, like it hurt.

"I really need to get you into some accent classes or some shit, before you get your teeth knocked out," you shake your head with a smile.

"What? I think I'm great at accents. My American accent is the best one yet, don't you think?" He smirks at you, and proceeds to demonstrate. "All you have to do is put an 'er' at the end of everything, right? That's totally how they speak around here."

"I would be careful, Mr. Waititi. Could get in some trouble if you say that too loudly," you roll your eyes, and he sighs. Yeah. Things were going to shit in LA. It was clear to everyone, but what could two hollywood producers do to stop things like that? Keep making films, you guess.

"Two, large piña coladas!"

You look up, and so does he.

"I'll get them," you volunteer, but he places his hand on your shoulder before you could get up.

"Let me," he speaks softly, in a damn near whisper.

He stands up and strides right over to the trailer with so much confidence, you're envious. He comes back with two large styrofoam cups in hand, spoons, and a warm smile. His smile was always warm. It set fire in your belly.

He sits down a bit more carefully this time, even though his car keys were sitting in the grass, far away from his landing zone. He hands you your cup and a spoon.

"Do these have alcohol in them?" He nudges you with your elbow and you shake your head.

"As if they would let a seventeen-year-old serve alcoholic beverages," you throw in logic.

"I dunno... ever been to a ballpark before? Pretty sure some of those kids are way too young to be peddling there too, but that doesn't stop people from hiring them," he says while pointing his spoon at you.

"Fair point," you finish, then look at your snow cone. You decide to start eating before it melts.

Silence swarms the air, but comfortably. There's the occasional murmur of cicadas or humming cars drowning them out. Birds would land on the scorching asphalt to pick at whatever crumbs were left by other patrons, before fluttering away at the sight of a zooming bike getting too close for comfort.

Taika will point out a few of the kids doing tricks. He picks his favorites for the night, and he keeps himself busy by watching them. You, on the other hand, are occupied with him. You examine him from the tips of his dirty white chucks, to his frazzled hairdo.

"You look like shit," you mutter. He barely pays you mind and that comment was hardly acknowledged. It was like the air had gone a bit stiffer. He was hiding something from you.

"What's going on, Taik?" you worry. He never kept things from you, unless they were hard to bear.

He sets his cup down and holds his hands together. He looks so tired. So solemn.

"Today was total shit," he whispers and runs a hand through his hair.

"Well, yeah, I get that. I wouldn't have known if you had looked a little spiffier," you say, reaching out and gently tucking a curl on his forehead back in place with all the rest of its friends.

"Look, I--..." he says, turning to you, lips parted slightly, and a yearning sensation bubbling from the tips of his fingers as he rests a single hand on you.

There were tough times with the occupancy you both, willingly, chose. The hardest part about it was making friends, or making love, then finding out you have to leave it behind for a new location the next morning.

"I have to leave... for Sydney..." he says, reaching to gently take your cheek into the palm of his hand.

"When?" you manage, though you were clearly becoming upset.

"In a few weeks. Thor is waiting for me," he sighs, barely able to look at you while his thumb rubbed your ample cheek.

"And what does this have to do with me?"

"I don't want to leave you," he says, tilting your head up just the slightest bit. "And I don't want to stop loving you."

Your eyes search his for a moment, wide and a bit confused.

"I thought you said we were just a fling with--"

He cuts you off, "A fling with benefits. I know..." he sighs again, "but every time I find myself waiting for you to call on a shitty day, each time you rest your head on my shoulder, all the times you smile at me and tease me, I find myself falling... more in love with you." He has to pause to breathe.

It's so quiet. Dangerously quiet.

"What happens if I love you too...?" you muster your courage, and look right into his expressive, brown eyes.

"I don't know," he says to you, thumb still rubbing circles.

"Guess there's only one way to find out, huh?" you breathe, and he nods.

Still as statues, you wait for words to touch the air. It's only when his foot makes a wrong move and knocks over his snow cone, does the tension break.

His bottom lip pouts for him again and you quietly pick his spoon up off the ground. You clean it on your shirt and hand it to him, all before taking your cup, and holding it out to share. He smiles down at you, taking his spoon from your hand and sticking it into the shaved ice.

Your head leans against his shoulder when the sun disappears behind the mall building.

"I love you too," you whisper.

"I know," he says back, sucking at the tip of his spoon.

"Think we can keep this up over the phone?" you ask, wondering about a brief virtual relationship, just until one of you catches a break.

"Guess there's only one way to find out, huh?" he says, lowering his spoon, wrapping his arm around you, and giving you his full attention.

#taika waititi #taika waititi x reader #fanfiction #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi imagines #taika waititi x you #taika waititi/you #fluffy

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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years ago

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Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-One

Table of Content or Part Fifty

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Word count: 4.6K

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse, minor sexual situations, violence

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My stomach aches with laughter as Duff delivers his punchline of his joke, my hands coming up to cover my mouth as I try to chew my fried mozzarella stick and he takes a sip of his beer, laughing as I snort, which only causes me to laugh even harder, until the both of us are laughing possibly the ugliest anyone has ever laughed, and I'm discarding my food into a napkin because I'm laughing too hard to try to chew it.

My eyes are watering, and thin tears roll down my cheeks.

We finally calm down, seeing people glaring at us for being so loud, but we ignore them.

"That was pretty good." I give him credit where credit is due, shifting in my seat a little and taking in a sharp breath as my sore thigh takes notice of the movement.

"Are you okay?" He asks me and I nod.

"It's still sore." I tell him, trying not to take notice of the expression on his face that flashes for a split second.

Nobody could understand why the hell I went right back home when I got out of the hospital like Nikki hadn't put my life in serious danger.

It wasn't like Nikki had intentionally shot at me. He didnt know what the hell I was and just kicked into to survival mode.

I didn't see the big deal in staying with him.

Tommy, Vince and Mick didn't even know what really happened. Doc had told them the same thing he told me to tell the press: I dropped Nikki's gun on accident, while trying to move it, and it went off and caught me.

He didn't want them to know the truth because they were working on the new album, and he didn't want to "create conflict" within the group.

So the only people that knew the truth aside from Fred, Doc and Nikki, was Duff, Slash, Steven, Izzy and Axl.

It wasn't long after that, that Axl informed me he wrote "You're Crazy" about me as a joke, but realized he was pretty right to write it because, in his words, "you staying with the crackhead heroin junkie that already treats you like shit, then fucking shot you, just solidifies my theory that you're actually, medically, out of your mind, and your insanity isn't just 'to be determined' anymore" and I asked him if he "wanted to be the pot or the kettle?"

The irony of him--out of all people--calling anybody else "crazy" was beyond me.

Thirty-two years later and he still dedicates the song to me every time they play it live.

After we're done eating our Sunday lunch, we pay and head to my car, slowly, because I'm limping and Duff's walking slow so he doesn't leave me.

"So, I kinda did something for your late birthday present." He informs me out of nowhere and I raise my brows.

"What do you mean?" I ask, fumbling to get my keys from my purse, shielding my eyes from the harsh sun in my face as we head to the parking lot.

"Mandy and I broke up." He states and I raise my brows.

"...You broke up with your girlfriend as my birthday present?" I'm confused and he chuckles it off.

"No!" He nervously rubs at the back of his neck. "She broke up with me, actually, but that's not what your present is."

"She broke up with you? Are you okay?" I ask.

"It's a girl, Viv. There's plenty more decent girls to choose from when I'm ready to be in a relationship again." He shrugs.

"Did she tell you why she was breaking things off?" I question.

"Just needed space or time or something like that, I don't know. I was kinda drunk when she called to tell me."

"She broke up with you over a phone call?" I raise my voice, my nostrils flaring.

"Viv, chill out." He let's out with a laugh, nudging me with his arm. "You haven't let me explain the good part of this."

"Well then explain." I clear my throat and he rubs his lips together.

"I talked to Nikki last night 'cause he and Tommy came around to hangout with us for a little while." He explains.

"Mhm?"

"I mentioned the fact that you were kinda getting back into dancing and he said he'd been meaning to ask me about it because you'd told him about Mandy letting you use their rehearsal space to dance."

"She didn't even know I was using it, you just sneak me in whenever she's not there. Well, at least, you did. I'm assuming she got the key back from you."

"You're not letting me finish." He points out and I roll my eyes and sigh.

"Okay. I'm listening."

"Nikki and I conspired together, and I'm buying the place from Mandy, and Nikki is going to pay for any renovations and cleaning up it probably definitely needs."

I stop walking, my face falling, unable to say anything.

"So...happy birthday?" He cautiously finishes, not able to gauge how I'm gonna react.

I just start crying.

"I-I'm sorry, if you didn't want that we can--"

"--I'm not crying because I'm upset, I'm crying because I'm happy." I tell him, wiping my running mascara.

"Viv." He smiles a little, and I hug him to me, my arms around him tightly as I squeeze my eyes closed.

"Thank you." I mumble to him and he kisses at my hair for a second.

"Happy birthday."

I knew on Nikki's part it was an attempt to apologize without actually saying "I'm sorry for shooting you" because if he said "I'm sorry" it would mean admitting he was wrong and I was right about his drug use.

And Vivian could never be right about anyone over-doing it with their bad habits.

I shut the front door, slipping my kitten heels off by the door before I calmly step through the house to get to our bedroom so I can change from my church dress.

Nikki's passed out in our bed. I've gotten to where I have to wake him up and get him to bed or just sleep next to him in the closet.

I accidentally rolled over and stabbed myself with one of his used needles a few nights ago so I've been praying he's been using clean needles and isn't going to transfer anything weird to me.

I change clothes and get into our bed, watching him sleep, at least I think he's asleep.

"How was church?" He asks me, keeping his liner smudged eyes shut and I run the tip of my finger over his bare chest.

"It was good." I reply. "It ran late again today." I lie, not wanting him to find out about Duff and I eating lunch again.

"Oh." He yawns, turning over to face me and I get a little closer to him, hooking my leg around his hip and he grins softly, resting his hand on the curve of my back.

"So, Zutaut called again." I tell him and he sighs out.

"Nope." He sits up and I untangle from him, rolling my eyes as I follow him into the bathroom.

"You didn't even let me finish." I argue, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorway as he puts the toilet seat up to pee.

"I don't need to let you finish. This is the second time he's called in the three days and you told me the first time he called he was wondering if I'd be up to produce your friends' album."

"I love how they're strictly just my friends as soon they inconvenience you. Which I don't even consider this an inconvenience."

"Then what is it, Viv?" He flushes the toilet and steps to the shower to turn it on.

"An opportunity to actually listen to our--'our' meaning 'your's, too'--friends' music. And help them get it put down on an album that actually stays true to their sound instead of trying to add all the extra bull crap that everyone else that's wanted to produce them, has done." I state as he gets his clothes off and gets into the shower.

"What's in it for me?" He asks over the sound of the water.

"Um, the satisfaction of helping a hungry band reach their dreams and share their music? Also helping them get money because once the kids see the album is produced by Nikki Sixx they're gonna buy it because they trust your opinion on good rock music?" I suggest hopefully.

"I want blowjobs." He cuts through the sentimental atmosphere I created in my mind surrounding friendship and dedication, and I glare at the shower as my face drops from it's smile into an unamused expression. "Like, on-command blowjobs. Anytime, anywhere."

"You want me to drop to my knees the second you snap your fingers? Ha!" I scoff.

"Then I'm not even gonna consider producing them."

"Oh my goodness gracious, fine!" I give up, letting out a heavy sigh. "For how long?"

"Um, until I come?"

"No, I mean over what duration of time do I have to sacrifice the wellbeing of my jaw for your disgusting and degrading satisfaction?"

"Until you get arthritic to the point of not being able to get down that low without throwing a joint out of place." He says and I raise a brow, yanking the shower open.

"I am not gonna be in my fifties getting on my knees every time you want some head." I state and he laughs.

"If I have to give you on-command BJs, you have to go down on me on-command."

"You don't even have to tell me to eat you out, I'll gladly do it without the say-so." He says as he shapes his lathered hair straight up with his hands and I have to keep myself from laughing at his childishness. "And can you close that, It's kinda nippley out there." He motions outside of the shower and I shake my head a little before pinning my hair off of my shoulders with a hair clip on our counter and start pulling my clothes off.

I get in with him and he smirks.

"Am I in trouble?" He asks and I raise my brows before reaching my hands up to squish down on his hair that he's got perfectly sculpted upward with shampoo. "No, Viv!" He tries to protect it, laughing loudly.

Tom Zutaut had pressed at me to convince Nikki to at least consider producing "Appetite for Destruction."

Everyone that was interested in Guns N' Roses wanted to alter their music or add unnecessary elements to their signature raw sound. He knew Nikki advocated for people not compromising on what they want, especially with their music, and knew he would never try to produce the album the way he wanted it, but the way the band wanted it.

The only problem there was in the plan...

I roll my eyes as Nikki takes a bump of coke to try to pull himself out of his heroin induced stupor as I fall back in the seat across from him in the limousine, wiping my smudged lipstick from around my mouth, panting, hot and bothered because he started something and couldn't get his prick up to finish it.

Oh, the joys of body function inhibiting drugs.

"Okay, c'mon." He says as he takes a deep breath.

I get back on him to straddle his lap, my hands pulling my dress up my hips and pushing my panties aside while he rubs at himself.

It doesn't seem like he's getting any harder, and the mood is ruined.

"Babe, it's okay." I sigh out, calmly, although I'm frustrated.

"Fuck." He curses, just as irritated, his boot harshly kicking the edge of the seats across from us, his fingers grasping at his hair.

I fix my panties back and move off of him, smoothing my dress back down as he tucks himself back into his pants and laces them back up.

"I'm sorry, Viv." He turns his head to the side to look at me while he's leaning his head back.

"It's fine." I assure him. "Not like I need to be putting that much pressure on my thigh anyway." I add and the atmosphere in the car immediately tenses up.

He doesn't reply, putting his shades on to prepare for the flashing cameras bound to find us.

He despises the press.

I don't blame him.

Once we get stopped, Nikki's opening the door, tightly grasping at my hand.

"Nikki! Nikki!" They all seem to be shouting, followed by questions such as, "you guys working on the album?", "what are some songs we can expect on the new album?", "when are you releasing a new record?", "is it true you went to rehab for heroin?", "are you still on drugs?"

"Vivian, there's pregnancy rumors, do you know who, in the band, is the father?" Someone shouts and I ignore them, keeping my head down and my eyes closed, letting Nikki cut through the reporters and get us into the venue to meet Tom and let Nikki experience his first official Guns N' Roses show.

...Nikki hated it.

He was ready to leave only two songs in and showed absolutely no interest in spending his time producing them.

He wouldn't even really pin point what exactly he didn't like about their music or their playing, he just didn't like it.

He admits now that he was so fucked up that night, in particular, that he wouldn't have known what was good music if it hit him in the face.

I figured that might have been the case since he was the first one to put in for Guns N' Roses to join Mötley Crüe on the "Girls, Girls, Girls" tour and advocate for their music.

His mood swings gave me whiplash.

"What do you think so far?" Tom asks Nikki as Nikki takes a sip of his drink.

"I don't see the fuss." He states, and Tom and I exchange looks, confused.

"W-What?" I ask, furrowing my brows. "Are you kidding me?"

"Did I stutter?"

"W--C'mon, Nikki, you haven't even heard some of their other stuff. These kids have the potential to be extraordinary, they're almost there. You can't just write them off like this."

"I'm not writing anybody off. They're my friends and I dig their enthusiasm but I can barely find the time to work on our own album, let alone produce someone else's and they're not striking me enough to make me want to sacrifice more of my time to produce them."

"Baby, if you would just give them a chan--"

"--Viv, I said 'no'." He sternly scolds me and tears swell up in my eyes because I could have sworn Nikki would have really liked their music.

"I'll be right back." I tell them, stepping to the bathroom to dry my tears.

At the time I thought Nikki was just being an asshole.

He didn't tell me he didn't want to produce them because he wouldn't have done the kind of job they deserved for their talent on their debut album.

He wanted to do right by them, and that meant staying as far away from their music as possible.

He didn't tell anyone that because that would have been him admitting he had a problem.

"Lose the nasty attitude, Vivian." Nikki orders as I stomp into our house while he shuts the front door behind him, locking it.

"Why? You gonna toss me aside, too?" I hiss, taking my jacket off and throwing my purse onto the coffee table, crossing my arms.

"Will you just drop it? It's not like there aren't thousands of producers that would love to help them out." He takes his jacket off, tossing it to the couch.

"What is wrong with their music? Is it their sound, their personality, their--"

"--Vivian, I said 'drop it'!" He barks.

"I have every right to be angry, Nikki! You clearly might not give a fuck about them but they are my friends--who I know good and damn well have immense talent and there's even some of it that's yet to be untapped--and I just wanted you to give them an actual shot at achieving the thing all of them have worked their asses off for and dreamed about since they were kids!" I throw my hands up.

"I'm done talking about this." He states, stepping to our bedroom.

"I'm not!" I take my heel off and throw it as hard as I can at his head.

It hits the back of his hair and he stops in his tracks.

"Tom said it himself, and you heard him: Guns N' Roses will be the biggest rock n roll band in the world if they just get someone behind them that can guide them to where they need to be!" I ball my fists up at my sides, digging my nails into my palms.

Nikki just slowly turns to face me, his eyes wild, his breathing labored, and a out of line theory sprouts in my mind, but the way he's been acting lately it won't surprise me if it's true.

"Is that why you won't help them?" I ask him, cutting my eyes. "Because they're possibly going to dethrone Mötley Crüe?"

The fact that I'm insinuating he gives a fuck about bullshit "competition", especially in regards to his friends, just infuriates him more. I see it in his eyes.

He just turns back around and goes to our bedroom, slamming the door shut.

I roll my jaw, my eyes drifting to the beautiful display of his gold and platinum records on the wall beside the hallway that leads to guest bedrooms.

My skin of my knuckles is splitting open when my fist collides with the glass of the "Shout at the Devil" Gold award.

Platinum's next.

Just before I'm going for "Too Fast for Love", Nikki's screaming from our bedroom doorway, Jack Daniel's in hand.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He shouts and I just shoot him a glare before taking the "Too Fast for Love" plaque off the wall. "Put the fucking plaque down Vivian." Nikki orders, stepping closer to me.

"Produce their album." I demand, acting as if I'm going to drop it.

"Put. It. Down. Vivian."

"Or what? You'll shoot me again?" I taunt him and he grinds his teeth. "Produce their album." I repeat.

"Go to hell, crazy bitch." He snaps.

"You go first!" I holler back, hurling the award at the wall and it crashes into another plaque and they both shatter to pieces.

I turn around just in time to see Nikki pouring Jack all over my Bible that he'd plucked from the coffee table, just before pulling his lighter out.

"Stop!" I shriek, rushing to him.

I'm too late, though, and he's lighting it up and throwing it into the empty fire place just as I make it to him.

A God-awful feeling of dread fills me as Sikki looks very proud of himself.

I can't even look at him right now.

Walking to the kitchen to wash my bleeding hand off and get it wrapped up, I start to think a mile a minute.

My heart clenches in my chest as tears line my lashes.

How predictable of Nikki Sixx to burn a fucking Bible just to piss off a christian who's had said Bible since childhood...but it somehow shocks me that he'd do it to me, I guess.

I glance down at my wedding ring.

I've noticed it feels more and more like a weight with every argument he and I have.

Our entire relationship was just an open body of water that, that freaking ring was dragging me deeper and deeper in to.

The pressure was starting to get painful and I needed air.

My finger tips tug at my wedding ring and I leave it on the kitchen counter before I'm walking to our bedroom-- while he's still in the living room-- locking the door and heading to the closet, quickly gathering every lick of heroin, coke, and pills before going to our bathroom and flushing all of it, all the while Nikki's banging his fist against our bedroom door.

I hear a loud crash, and realize he kicked the door in.

"Vivian!" He screams as I'm giving the final flush to the last bindle, opening the bathroom door.

He's pushing me aside rather roughly and stomping to the toilet as the sound of the tank refilling with water let's him know what I've been doing.

"What did you do?!" He seethes at me, finger in my face, eyes shot, five o'clock shadow framing his gritted teeth.

And I just turn around with the intention of getting my shoes back on and leaving.

His hand is catching in my hair and yanking me back to him.

"Nikki, fuck off!"

"Don't fucking walk away from me!" He yells.

"I should have walked away from you six years ago!" I exclaim, tears of anger rolling down my cheeks.

This gets his attention because he's letting me go, an obvious expression of hurt on his face.

"I should have never slept with you. I should have never dated you. I should have never told you I'd marry you and I never should have taken vows to love and honor and protect someone who can't even get off of drugs long enough to love and honor and protect me." I sniffle and he blinks at me slowly as if holding back on his emotions.

"Then walk the fuck away." He hisses at me, rolling his jaw.

I left.

Nikki called Vanity.

And I went to find Duff.

I shut my car door before making my way into the Seventh Veil, running a hand through my hair as music blares through the speakers.

I glance around, hoping they're here because I've been up and down the strip and they've been nowhere to be found.

My prayers are answered when I look to see the massive fluff of blonde hair and I walk over to the table where Duff, Izzy, Steven, and Slash are, yanking a chair from a neighboring table and sitting with them.

They give me weird looks, Steven glancing around to check for Nikki or any of the other guys, before exchanging looks with Duff and Slash while Izzy seems unphased, his eyes on the same thing mine are on: the dancer on stage.

"Um...Viv?" Steven asks me cautiously and I side eye him.

"Yeah." I mumble.

"Uh, a-are you here alone?" He asks.

"Yep."

"Do you like strippers or something?" Slash asks me next.

"Nope."

"Did Nikki piss you off?" Duff's next.

"Yep."

"Is your hand alright?" Steven motion's to my hand that's got a scabbed over, bloody cut over the top of it.

"Shh, guys, she has to keep a clear mind so she can properly construct her plan to ask the dancers if they've accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior." Izzy sarcastically puts in and I cut my eyes at him as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

"Talk all your shit, Stradlin. Just gives me more motivation to curate ideas to make your life harder."

"Your existence in itself makes my life harder." He scoffs.

"Good that means I'm fulfilling one of the purposes God gave me for my life."

"Is your other purpose getting your husband so heated he throws you out of the house?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." I pretend to feel sorry, poking my lip out a little. "I forget I can't be upset with Nikki around you because you get bothered at the thought of anyone being upset with your gothic, heroin hounding, drug buddy because you're kindred spirits that have bonded over being tortured artists."

"Oh, go read your Bible." He tells me.

"Can't. Nikki set it on fire." I shoot back and Duff chokes on his drink.

"He what?" Duff asks me, like he's trying to contain a little anger over it.

"So we can expect the Sixxes to get a divorce?" Izzy asks me, clearly joking, and I shake my head.

"No, he's just being a junked-out prick." I mumble, crossing my arms.

"Do you wanna get your anger out by aggressively throwing our money?" Steven asks and I blink.

"I'll go politely put the money on the edge of the stage." I say and Duff finishes his drink, setting the glass face down.

"Alright, let's get outta here." He tells me with a sigh, standing up. "We'll see you guys later."

"Alright, man." Izzy nods. "Viv." He adds.

"Izzy." I reply.

"Bye, Viv." Steven and Slash both say and I smile a little.

"Bye, guys."

I follow Duff out of the club, and he nearly trips coming out, causing me to grab at his hand and arm to try to help him keep balanced, and a few flashes go off, signaling paparazzi and I audibly groan as they move in.

My hand shields my eyes as my other hand holds tightly to Duff's arm as asinine questions are thrown at me but I ignore them.

The bastards got a good enough shot at just the right second--with me holding onto Duff with both of my hands, the two of us sharing wide smiles because we were laughing over him nearly tripping to the ground--that it definitely came across as "a picture's worth a thousand words" but the only words told by that picture was that we were a little more than friends...and that's what the headline spun it up as by the time it landed in Nikki's hands.

The argument it led to sparked the birth of "You're All I Need", delivered by the vocals of Vince, from the demented mind of Sikki Nixx himself.

"Where'd you park?" Duff asks me in my ear over the sound of photography and strangers talking at us, and I tug him into direction of my car that's parked down the street against the curb.

"Welp that's something I'm gonna get to explain to Nikki." I state as soon as we get into my car.

"He knows nothing's happening." He replies, laughing it off.

"Yeah, right." I say under my breath, as I start heading down the road. "Where to?" I ask, stopping at a stop light.

"Oh, I don't know I was just trying to keep you from swinging on Izzy." He admits with a chuckle and I shake my head a little.

"I'd never hit Izzy. Axl, definitely, Izzy, no. He's my favorite."

"Izzy's your favorite? How'd that happen? You two are, like, polar opposites." He asks me with an amused smile.

"He agrees that Sid probably killed Nancy." I inform him and he throws his head back and let's out a frustrated, but humorous, groan.

After finally deciding to just get milk-shakes, we sit in a corner booth of Denny's and once we get out orders, Duff's clearing his throat.

"So, I saw you guys at the show earlier."

He tells me and I raise my brows, sipping at my strawberry milkshake. "You didn't tell us you were coming, we could've told them to take you guys backstage."

"We weren't able to stay very long afterwards...Nikki just wanted to see you guys play together live." I explain.

"Oh." He nods, before asking the dreaded question: "what did he think?"

"He digs you guys." I lie, giving a little smile.

The guys never knew Nikki was approached to produce the album, each of them found out later.

I think they're secretly glad he never touched "Appetite for Destruction."

That album would have been an absolute train wreck under his junkie guidance, just like everything else that Nikki seemed to be apart of in 1987.

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug

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chinguwritings · 4 years ago

Text

A 3RACHA Fan-Fiction

|| Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || Ch 6 ||

A/N: Sorry this took even longer than the other chapter ;-; work has honestly just been driving me insane and running me down so much that I couldn't bring myself to write. I'm finall quitting this week though sooo hopefully I'll be back in the swing of things really soon. ~Admin Kay

Chapter 5 - Better Late Than Never

Genre: Angst, Hanahaki AU

Rating: PG (swearing, mentions of sex)

Word Count: 3.8k

Bright rays of sunlight peeked through Changbin’s window, making him squint as he stretched out his arms and slowly sat himself up in his bed. For a minute he simply sat there, eyes half lidded while he pent up enough energy to actually will himself out of bed, that was until he got a surprisingly strong whiff of freshly cooked food from somewhere nearby. Suddenly alert, he quickly panned his room and noticed a plate on his desk that was filled with breakfast foods and next to it, sat a little piece of paper. Curious to know what the deal was, Changbin quickly untangled himself from his blankets and made his way over to his desk.

Good morning, Changbin-hyung! I made you breakfast today. I hope it’s yummy… Enjoy! :)

~Jisung

A puzzled expression formed on Changbin’s face as he tried to make sense of the situation; was Jisung trying to prove something? After giving it some thought though, Changbin was able to quickly put two and two together, determining that this was Jisung’s way of trying to make it up to him. Of course, cooking him a meal this one time wouldn’t suffice as a proper apology, however, he did appreciate the thought and the free food.

He took his time eating what Jisung had prepared before heading out to the kitchen to wash the plate, but to his dismay, Jisung was currently occupying the sink to wash the dishes he’d used to cook.

“How was it?” Jisung asked, a bright smile on his face as he finished rinsing the dishes and glanced over at Changbin expectantly.

“Um…” Changbin cleared his throat, awkwardly turning his head away as he spoke, “It was good, thanks.” With that, he was about to walk back to his room and come back later, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Jisung approaching him.

“I can take your plate, hyung. I’ll wash it for you.”

When Changbin looked up, he was met with Jisung’s innocent gaze, his hand held out to take the used dish from him. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything as he handed it over to him, a guilty feeling building up inside of him as he watched Jisung make his way back to the sink. It was clear that these past few days, Jisung had been trying really hard to make up with Changbin with his apologies and attempts to talk to him, and now doing nice things for him… but Changbin, on the other hand, hadn’t really tried at all to amend things with Jisung; not once did he ever think about apologizing to Jisung or even just talking it out, even though he knew he was in the wrong too. He felt better about himself when he evaded the situation as a whole and put all the blame on Jisung instead.

He felt shitty for it, but he decided to avoid Jisung yet again, going back up to his room to change. On their off days, Changbin normally liked to go to the gym to work out and today was no exception. If anything, he needed it more today than any other day to one, get away from Jisung, and two, to relieve his stress and get his mind off of things, particularly his conscience; it was really starting to get to him and it was becoming a nuisance.

Once he’d finished changing, he made his way to the kitchen to pack his things, passing by Jisung on the way, who was sitting on the couch watching tv.

“Hyung,” Jisung called from the living room, hearing Changbin scavenging through the kitchen cabinets, “I made your protein shake already. It’s by the door… and I packed you a little snack for after too.”

Changbin froze for a second at Jisung’s words, shocked that he’d gone out of his way for him yet again even though the day had just barely begun. Awkwardly making his way out of the kitchen, Changbin mumbled a quick thank you to Jisung before darting out the front door to get to the gym.

“Ergh!” he grumbled to himself as he walked down the sidewalk, frustrated by Jisung’s actions. If his goal was to guilt trip him, then he was doing a damn good job… Changbin thought a good workout would ease his mind so that when he got back home, he’d be able to go right back to ignoring Jisung, but no. Every time he took a sip of the protein shake, and every time he even just glanced at the snack bag Jisung had prepared he felt sick to his stomach. How could Jisung be so kind to him, when all he’d done was treat him like shit? Why couldn’t Jisung just ignore him back?

Unable to finish working out peacefully, he decided to call it quits and head home early. Maybe it really would be a good idea to talk things through with Jisung; ignorance was a bliss for a little while, but he had to admit the burden of losing his best friend over his own dumb feelings was pretty petty and it definitely didn’t feel good.

“Oh, you’re home early,” Jisung remarked as he passed by Changbin, who was making his way to his room, “I was just about to prepare a bath for—”

“Don’t,” Changbin replied solemnly, making Jisung frown.

“Is everything okay?” he asked worriedly.

“We need to talk.”

As Changbin entered his room, he quickly set his things down before taking a seat on his bed, Jisung following suit and seating himself on the opposite end of the bed to provide some space between the two of them.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Changbin blurted, his eyes glued to the floor, too embarrassed to look up at Jisung.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re my friend so of course I’m gonna be nice to you…”

“But you’re being particularly nice today…”

“Well… it’s just… I really missed you… you were being so distant after our fight and just… I don’t know, I was scared that I’d lose you if I didn’t do something.”

Changbin’s heart ached at Jisung’s words; Jisung really did care about him a lot more than he gave him credit for. In the end, Changbin was the one not giving a care about Jisung and completely disregarding his feelings.

“No wonder Chan likes you,” Changbin scoffed, his eyes welling with tears as he continued, “Who would like someone as selfish as me… someone who doesn’t even know how to properly express his feelings or contain them when he needs to?”

“Changbin…” Jisung whined, scooting closer to him to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think that’s—”

“Listen Jisung, all of this is my fault, I’m sorry,” Changbin sniffled, “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you about going out with Chan and I shouldn’t have said all that stuff about him using you, I was just jealous. Who you date, who you have feelings for, who you have sex with, all of that isn’t my business, and I shouldn’t have gotten upset that you never told me anything… I didn’t tell you anything either so I was also being a hypocrite. I’m really sorry, Jisung.”

“Changbin, it’s okay… I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me. It’s just… if I had known you were into Chan I wouldn’t have gone for him. I think I’m more upset that you didn’t tell me you were sick… I’m sorry that I haven’t been doing a good job showing it with all my sneaking around and doing things behind your back, but I do care about you a lot, and finding out about your hanahaki disease when you’re already in the fourth phase is really concerning… why haven’t you said anything about it this whole time? What if you died?! You did such a good job hiding it too, I would’ve never known…”

“Well, if it was bad enough I was going to get the flowers removed. I already started looking into it actually. The truth is though, I didn’t tell you because…” he trailed off, letting out a sigh before continuing, “You know what… I should just tell you everything. After all you’ve done for me you deserve to know.” Taking a deep breath, Changbin prepared himself to explain his situation with Chan. He knew it would probably end in another flare, or maybe multiple, but now that Jisung knew the jist of things it was a lot easier to discuss the sensitive topic with him.

“So, it was shortly after we’d started making recordings for 3racha that I’d first taken an interest in Chan. At the time, liking a guy was pretty foreign and so I assumed that what I felt wasn’t romantic or anything like that. I thought I was just admiring Chan as a good rapper, producer, and leader. Over time though, my feelings for him started to grow stronger and maybe about a year ago, I realized that I genuinely liked Chan, and that I really am sexually attracted to men. Obviously, seeing as I’m terrible with expressing my feelings, I tried to subtly hint at it and initiate hang outs and what not, but really, nothing was happening between us. He seemed completely oblivious to my feelings and we kind of just stayed as friends… until the Christmas party this past winter.

After dinner had finished and everyone was hanging out down stairs, Chan pulled me aside and took me to one of the bedrooms upstairs. He said he’d stayed there before with JYP when he had events to go to in the morning. Prior to the party, we talked about buying each other Christmas gifts, but agreed on not getting each other to be frugal, and instead, just spending time together or something like that. Since we weren’t buying each other anything, I just decided to make him something really small, a bracelet. I’d made us matching ones and while we sat together on the balcony of that room, I gave it to him. From there, everything escalated; it started with him holding my hand, and then a kiss… and then next thing you know we were in bed together…”

Changbin paused for a moment, feeling the dreadful sensation that he’d been patiently awaiting starting to surface as his thoughts surrounded that night with Chan.

“Hey,” Jisung spoke feebly and gently rubbed Changbin’s back, sensing his unease, “You can take a break if you need, there’s no rush. Just breathe, and clear your head.”

“No, I’m okay…” Changbin sighed after inhaling deeply, “I’d rather just get this over with.”

Jisung nodded in acknowledgement before Changbin continued, “He never told me anything that night in regards to feelings or anything like that, and of course, I wasn’t going to be the one to ask, so I just left it. I kind of just assumed that if Chan was the one to make the advances, then it meant he liked me, but apparently I was very wrong to jump to a conclusion like that. Once we started getting back to work after the holidays finished, nothing. I’m not sure if I’m just being subjective about the situation because I was hurt, but it seemed as though Chan had actually become distant and a lot less… friendly with me. He was still nice, as always, but he didn’t talk to me as much as before and he didn’t text as often… he only texted me about work related things.

A few weeks after that, just barely into the new year, was when I developed the first symptoms of hanahaki disease. It was the worst in the beginning; I went from phase one to two in less than a week, but after that, I was able to keep it somewhat under control… I managed to stretch out phase two and three over the span of six months or so, with just occasional flares when I’d have major interactions with Chan. Before my recent recording with Chan, I was actually doing really well and hadn’t had a flare in almost a month. I thought I’d finally recovered to be honest… but y’know the matching bracelets I made for us? I still carry it with me in my pocket and when I was leaving the recording room, I accidentally dropped it and he picked it up for me… and then he commented on how I don’t wear it anymore… which bothered me because he only wore his for like, the first week after I gave it to him.

And also, I figured out that you went to see him the night before my recording, because I went to check on you right before I went to sleep, but you were gone. I didn’t think too much of it at first, but when I asked you about it the next morning, your reaction made me suspicious. Chan also seemed a little more tired than normal during our session so I kind of put two and two together. Finding out you and him were going out made my disease flare again, and worse this time… My fifth stage flowers actually started blooming last night, when you went home with Chan after practice. I went through stage four in less than a week, just like I did with stage one, but breathing and coughing up the petals is becoming a lot more painful these days. As for the reason I never told you about any of it, is because for one, after my encounter with Chan, I didn’t want to admit to anyone else that I was gay, and then I didn’t tell you I was sick because I thought you’d see me as a pathetic loser who’s so hung up on some guy who doesn’t even like him back.”

“Changbin…” Jisung whined, hurt that Changbin felt that way about himself, “You’re one of the strongest people I know, I would never think of you as a pathetic loser. You’ve literally been suffering for over six months on your own and you hid it so well that I didn’t even have a clue. I wish you didn’t have to go through all of that, but the fact that you could bear that is amazing… If I were you, I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle something like that by myself.”

“Thanks, Jisung… but I still think I’m pretty pathetic. I even got mad at you and blamed you because of my own jealousy…”

“If I had to go through what you’ve been through, I’m sure I would’ve done the same, you don’t need to beat yourself up about it… it’s really okay. The big issue now is figuring out how to help you recover. You know, I was thinking that you were right though, about only having spent a few days together with Chan and that I might be delusional about us, so I decided that I should just give him up on him, and then you’d have an easier time—”

“No!” Changbin blurted, turning sharply to Jisung and finally looking him in the eyes, “Don’t give up on Chan. You guys definitely have something special that he and I never had… I told you Jisung, everything I said before was just a load of bullshit that I blurted because I was just jealous of you. You should be with Chan if you really like him… d-don’t let me stop you.” Changbin could feel himself getting choked up, his eyes welling with tears again as he thought about what he’d just said. He did genuinely support Jisung and wished him happiness in his endeavors with Chan, but on the inside, it still hurt… he wanted more than anything to be in Jisung’s shoes, to be the one Chan liked.

“Hyung… don’t cry…” Jisung pouted, grabbing Changbin’s hand and squeezing it tight, “How can I pursue Chan if it hurts you like this?”

Breaking eye contact once again, Changbin hung his head, letting his tears fall down into his lap. He could feel his chest tightening with each sniffle, a growing pain in his thoracic region soon accompanying, making his face twist in pain. Jisung didn’t fail to notice the few petals that trickled past Changbin’s lips after letting out a few small coughs, so reaching for the small trash can that Changbin kept in his room, he knelt on the ground, placing the small bin down just between Changbin’s legs before comforting him through the painful process.

In a matter of seconds, Jisung noticed Chanbin become noticeably tense, the excruciating sensation he felt written clearly on his face as he expelled a bundle of petals into the container, right in front of Jisung.

“I,” Changbin started, obviously still in pain as he gasped for air, “I’m s-sorry you… had t-to see that.”

Jisung’s lips began to quiver and a lump formed in his throat as he stared at the green and blue petals piled in the bin, some of which were speckled with small, red blood stains.

“J-Jisung…?” Changbin addressed worriedly, “Why are you crying?”

Jisung hesitated to answer, sniffling and trying his best to collect himself before attempting to speak, “It’s so painful…” he looked up at the older boy through his glossy, tear stained orbs, “To see my best friend, and one of the strongest people I know suffering this much.”

* * *

The rest of the day went well. Besides the abundance of angsty emotions surrounding Changbin’s situation with Chan, everything was good. With Jisung and Changbin’s close relationship finally restored after their absence of communication for the past few days, they decided to celebrate by going out to dinner together.

“Good choice eating here, hyung,” Jisung hummed contentedly as he dug into his food.

“The last time we came here was for your past birthday, so I figured it’d be nice to come again,” Changbin nodded in agreement.

The boys were quiet as they ate, but of course, the silence was different from that of before; the atmosphere was light and comfortable, with two best friends simply enjoying each other’s presence as much as they were enjoying their food.

It didn’t take long for them to clean their plates, the two of them slumping into the big, cushioned seats of their booth as they waited for their waiter to come back with checks. They sat again in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until it was broken by Changbin’s phone buzzing loudly against the table. He sat himself up properly as he reached for the vibrating device to check who was calling, but when he saw the name displayed on the screen he almost had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t crazy.

“Who is it?” Jisung spoke up, noticing Changbin’s sudden change in expression.

“It’s…. Chan,” he uttered.

“Answer it,” Jisung replied calmly.

Changbin was starting to look a little pale, the life completely sucked out of his features as he swiped his thumb over the screen to answer the call and lifted his phone up to his ear.

“H-hello?”

“Thank god, you actually answered,” Chan let out a sigh of relief before continuing, “How are you?”

“Uh… I’m okay…” Changbin replied nervously, “W-why?”

“Jisung told me you guys fought, so I kinda just wanted to check up on you… my gut feeling was telling me that it had something to do with me.”

“O-oh…” Changbin stuttered, taken aback by Chan’s statement. Although he was right, Changbin didn’t want to outright say, ‘yes, it had to do with you,’ but at the same time, he didn’t know what else he could say. As he pondered over what his next words should be, he ended up creating an awkward silence in the conversation, which Chan ended up having to break.

“Um… well if you don’t mind, we could meet up and talk about it tonight. I have a few things I’d like to say to you too.”

Changbin gulped at the proposal, still feeling anxious about the idea of facing Chan in a non-work environment. It’d been nearly half a year since they'd had a genuine conversation just for fun, and that was a little while before their one night stand… after that incident, he really didn’t know what Chan thought of him and it scared him enough to avoid speaking with him all this time.

Just as he’d been doing, once again, he decided he felt more comfortable avoiding Chan, but without a valid excuse he ended up telling him, “I’ll think about it…”

“Alright. If you decide you wanna talk, just text me. I’ll see you later,” was the last thing Chan said before hanging up, and Changbin let out a sigh of relief as he set his phone back down on the table.

“What’d he say?” Jisung inquired, seeing as Changbin wasn’t going to mention it if he didn't ask.

“He wanted to meet up and talk… so I told him I’ll think about it,” he replied nonchalantly, shrugging it off and hoping Jisung wouldn’t prod further… but of course he did, it’s Jisung after all.

“Why don’t you do it?” Jisung asked bluntly.

“I can’t face him…” he sighed, defeated, “I’m a fucking coward.”

“You’re not a coward,” Jisung assured, “Approaching a crush is nerve-wracking for anyone, but I think it’s hard for you to get over Chan because you lack closure with him. You’re probably scared because you feel like Chan has negative feelings toward you, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure he doesn’t. You should ask him what really happened after your one night stand; I’m sure it's not as bad as you think it is.”

“I don’t know, Jisung… It’s been months already…”

“Better late than never.”

Letting out another sigh, Changbin decided that maybe Jisung was right. Everything he'd said about him being scared and lacking closure was true and honestly, even though he was able to put it off for a long ass time, he did want to know what Chan thought of him and what had really happened between the two of them.

Reluctantly, Changbin reached for his phone and quickly scrolled through his archive of text conversations to find Chan’s. Upon finding it, he clicked on the text box and slowly began to type: “I’ll be free in about an hour if you still want to talk.” He could feel his heart pounding against his chest as his thumb hovered over the send button, still debating if he should follow through or not.

“You’ll be okay,” Jisung spoke up, placing a comforting hand over Changbin’s, seeing that he looked distressed, “In the end, you’ll be relieved that you talked to him. If you don’t do it, you’ll probably regret missing the opportunity… right?”

With that, Changbin let out a deep sigh as he nodded at Jisung and finally hit send on his message. He knew Jisung was right, and he knew that he would feel better afterwards, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was nervous as hell right now. Only moments after he set his phone back down on the table, it buzzed again, nearly giving him a heart attack as he glanced over at the bright screen.

[Chan 7:46 PM]: I’ll be there by 9

|| Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || Ch 6 ||

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