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Post by riley william walsh on May 20, 2012 12:39:10 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #000000, width: 300px; height: 300px;] suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall riley had no clue how he was even supposed to comprehend what had happened that day. there he had been in his office, ready to go home to his run down piece of shit house, and hang out with marty. who was probably going to be in a shit mood, because he was marty and he was always in a shit mood. ready to just, relax. drink a beer. watch some tv. maybe take a nap. it didn't really matter what he was going to do all that mattered was he was ready to go home by the time that the last appointment had snuck into his schedule for the day. he had no idea how that even happened. and really? who would do this to him. why would someone keep him from going home when it was all that he really wanted to do now that he had already dealt with hours upon hours of listening to other people bitch about their lives. the person that had come through that door, though, was not someone that he had expected at fucking all. hell, elliot was the last person that he had ever thought to see again, besides in those awkward moments where they passed each other in the store or shit like that.
so, no, he hadn't been expecting his ex-wife to come into his office. he hadn't expected the conversation that followed. and a big part of him, a really big part of him, was just ready to go home and never come back to work again. apparently only bad things came out of coming into work. and for as much as the end of his work day had sucked, he knew that it was going to be just that much more irritating because marty was...fuck, he was marty. not the he wasn't pretty much the only friend that riley really had now a days. and not that he didn't enjoy marty's company. but the fact of the matter was, that he wouldn't have a damn thing constructive to say about the whole thing. he would just, make some snide ass comments about his ex-wife, be an ass hole, piss riley off more, and then there would probably be a fight or some shit like that. he didn't want that. he didn't feel like fighting with marty, or anyone. he just wanted to go home, and take a bath, and forget that this day, and the world, even existed.
that was what his mind was dead set on as he made his way towards that run down place that he called his home. in all truth of the matter there was a high chance that he shouldn't even be living in the place. sure, the master bathroom, and the master bedroom were up to livable standards. but the majority of the house, not so much. no matter how much time marty spent cleaning the damn place over and over again because if anyone in the world had some stupid need to clean it was marty pruitt. there was a part of riley that wondered why he even let that old friend of his live with him. he had gotten used to his alone time, used to not having to deal with anyone or anything. maybe part of him wanted the company, usually he was a pretty social guy after all. but not right then. not that night. not with the mood he was in after being subjected to his ex-wife. no, he wanted nothing to do with the world, and nothing to do with marty and his bad attitude, because all that it was going to do was put him in a worse mood than he already was in.
with a slam of his door he made his way towards his home, entering the place and slamming the front door as well for good measure because why the hell not? there was no hello. no honey i'm home. no sort of greeting. riley just headed right for the stairs, straight up to his room, then into the master bathroom, and started a bath. if marty really wanted to talk, he would just come up the stairs. riley knew him well enough to know that. with the bubbles all kinds of inviting riley stripped down then laid in the tub. how somehow the water would relax away his bad day just like it was relaxing his muscles. |
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Post by martin franklin pruitt on May 26, 2012 17:30:19 GMT -5
Marty got beat up at work again. It was strange, he thought that growing up meant getting away from the childish natures of high school bullies, but he was clearly wrong. Maybe the reason Marty got beat up so much was because he was so… available. He wasn’t the smallest, or the skinniest, but he was small and skinny… and he was always around. Always there like a fucking gnat. He supposed that was why John or Jim or whatever his generic jock boy name was felt the need to clock him in the face at 3 PM. Marty’s cheekbone was bruised badly, but he was sure he hadn’t been hit that hard… and it had only been the one hit. He stared in the mirror to the first floor bathroom for a second, prodding the bruise with his ring finger.
Admittedly, Marty had provoked John or Jim. He said something about… his wife? Girlfriend? He could hardly remember the meaningless backhanded compliment. Marty’s insults were generally backhanded compliments; he was so passive aggressive it made people even angrier. And the fact that he just sat in his seat, took the hit, stared back at John or Jim… and then went back to work was even more frustrating to this bully. It hadn’t just been that one hit. He remembered now. The brute had grabbed Marty by the collar and slammed the back or his head into his car door in the parking lot before he left.
It was only just now occurring to Marty that growing up didn’t mean the bullies went away, it just meant that the bullies got guns and bigger muscles. And it meant that Riley wasn’t there to tell them to fuck off anymore. No, his big bad best friend was at his own job not getting his ass handed to him. Marty rubbed the back of his head, turning the sink on and splashing some water in his face, then wiping it off with his sleeve. He looked back into the mirror, staring into it intensely. Was this actually what life was, a shitty replay of high school through each year? This wasn’t the first time Marty thought about killing himself because of the world’s problems, he remembered grabbing his step-dad’s gun a lot… mostly to point at his younger brother… but every now and again he’d aim for himself.
He would have gone on with his suicidal thoughts, but the door slammed, putting Marty’s self-loathing on hold for a few minutes. The noise made him jump and wince all at the same time. He had half a mind to tell Riley that slamming the door was going to make it fall off—he even opened his mouth to yell it, but something hit him very hard all of a sudden. It could have been the throbbing headache in the back of his head. It could have been, but it was something entirely different. It was the fact that Riley rarely slammed doors. Even Marty had difficulty pissing him off—it happened, but not often.
And then there was the water running upstairs, and Marty rolled his eyes. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a cigarette and holding it between his lips, then quickly following the sound of water to the upstairs bathroom. He lit the cigarette before walking in. He didn’t even bother to knock; he figured it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen up close and personal before.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Marty said, still rubbing the bump on his head, “Baths are gay, and they’re gross. Learn to take a shower. You realize you’re actually just bathing in your own filth. It completely defeats the purpose of getting clean.” His eyes narrowed, and he added in a quick, “Don’t slam the front door, it’ll break.” just for good measure.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
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Post by riley william walsh on Jun 6, 2012 15:50:58 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #000000, width: 300px; height: 300px;] suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall most of the time riley could deal with marty. given that marty wasn't the sort of person that a lot of people could spent an extended amount of time with. marty was an ass, and riley knew it, and anyone who crossed paths with marty knew it, that was all that there was to it. and he was pretty damn sure that marty was going to be an ass for the rest of his miserable -by his own damn choice- life. there wasn't anything that riley wanted to do about it. sure, he could try and work out his problems. sit down and shrink him for hours. do what he had spent a ridiculous amount of years at school doing. but, he didn't want to. because ass hole or not, marty was his best friend. and especially right then he didn't have it in him to try and get down to the root of why marty hated everything in the world. he knew most of it anyway when it well and came down to it. he'd grown up with the grumpy son of a bitch after all. and yet, he still loved him just the way that he was. maybe some sort of balancer to the way that he was usually in a good mood.
right then, he was not in a good mood though. and the thing that sucked the most about being in the same house with martin pruitt was that he didn't give a fuck about someone's bad day. riley knew this. he knew that if he tried to tell marty what had happened and why he was in a bad mood all that his friend would do was say that he was being a fucking girl about it or something to that effect, and then make a few cracks, and be an ass, and riley just didn't want to deal with it. he didn't want to deal with marty, or his mouth, or his attitude. he just wanted to take a fucking bath and make the day go away so that he could wake up the next day and start all over again. just go at the day with a clear mind no matter if there was the impeding doom that his ex-wife might come into his office again to talk to him about how her current marriage just wasn't going that great. like he gave a fuck. why would he give a fuck? a loud sigh came from him as he laid a wash cloth over his eyes as if blocking out his view of the world would make everything fucked up just wash away.
for once, he hoped that marty would just stay down stairs and leave him to take his bath, just for once. but the all too noticeable creek of the stairs came to his ears and he knew that only meant one thing. marty was going to be coming into the bathroom at any moment probably with some wise ass shit to say that riley just didn't want to hear, but nor did he have the effort to get out of the bath and lock the door to keep him out. so he just laid there and waited for marty to make his grand entrance to one of the only renovated rooms of the house -alongside the master bedroom and the kitchen- and more or less his sanctuary in a house that was mostly falling apart. it was odd that riley liked it this way, broken, but it seemed a good depiction of how riley had been for the past few years.
the shrink felt his mind wandering back to thoughts of his son just as marty entered the room. he didn't even bother taking the wash cloth off of his eyes instead letting out an irritated sigh his hand blindly reaching for his cigarettes. he grabbed one and stuck it between his lips, lighting the end blindly with his lighter then taking a long drag. he wasn't going to look at marty, that's all that there was to it. he wasn't going to look at him, and he was going to try to get him go away as soon as he possibly could because he didn't want to deal with his so called best friend right there. no matter how much he did love the son of a bitch, he just didn't want a damn thing to do with him right then and there.
"marty..." he started out before he started lecturing him on his love for baths...again. that was just marty after all. "i always take a shower after i take a bath you know that dumb shit," he spat out before taking another drag of his cigarette and letting the smoke out of his lungs with a loud exhale. "it's my front door i'll slam it if i fuckin' want to marty, after all, it is my house," he shot back the annoyance in his tones growing. when he finally asked his last question he sat up in the tub and moved the wash cloth off of his eyes to look at the other man. and he was about to throw a big ol' shit fit and then he saw marty's face and his eyes grew wide with worry. "oh jesus christ marty who did you piss off this time?" she asked before starting to get out of the bath so that he could doctor his wounds. |
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Post by martin franklin pruitt on Jun 6, 2012 19:50:07 GMT -5
Marty really should have been more grateful for Riley. He was there for him when his house burnt down, there for a shoulder to lean on, there when Marty truly needed him. And yet, Marty would never forgive him. He had been holding that little grudge since high school, and yes, maybe it was because Riley had so much more than him, always, maybe it was that he was envious, but it didn’t change anything. Riley could say he loved Marty, he could fucking propose and Marty would still never say it back. It could have been his stubbornness, but it was more likely the fact that he could never forgive Riley for leaving him alone when he really needed him the most.
When the two parted ways for college, their last goodbyes were only slightly less than nuclear. Marty would be an English major in a crappy community college, working two jobs to support the family he couldn’t give a shit about, and Riley was to do whatever the hell he did in college. Whatever it was, Marty thought it was better than his experience. He got married too young, played house for a couple of years with a girl who filled the gap that Riley had made only halfway, and then just like that it was over. There was drinking, and fighting, and Marty’s 9 year marriage couldn’t make it to 10. She divorced him; she always made that very clear. And then he was alone again.
And then his house burnt down and he didn’t have the money for a new place. Honestly, Marty was on the verge of asking his little brother for help when Riley offered him a place to crash. That was the big reason Marty should have appreciated Riley more. Because he gave him a place to sleep, and didn’t make him pay rent. He was his best friend, but that didn’t change anything.
He rolled his eyes at Riley’s rebuttal, but there was a hint of nervousness in Marty’s body language that didn’t show on his face. He was cracking his knuckles, the noise disgusted him whenever he heard it, and he would constantly tell people he’d rip their fingers off if they didn’t stop it…. and yet. Marty knew if Riley were to take the towel off his face at that moment, he would see right through his best friend’s poker face. But for now, he just kept rolling one hand over the other.
“Who shit in your coffee this morning?”
As soon as he saw Riley’s hands go up to take the washcloth off, Marty stood soldier straight. He stopped fiddling with his hands, and kept his blank expression on. Bored, Marty always looked bored. Maybe it was the way his face was shaped, or the fact that he constantly had bags under his eyes from the insomnia. Parker never looked that way, Marty’s younger half brother and him could have been twins if it weren’t for the way Marty’s face fell. Parker always looked fresh and happy, Marty always looked old and tired and pissed off at the world. And on occasion, like this one, his face was even bruised.
He brushed the concern in Riley’s voice off. It irked him sometimes about how concerned he got. Marty didn’t deserve concern, hell; Riley should have given him another black eye right then and there. But instead, he had this fatherly tone that made Marty’s eyes go soft for a moment. If only for a moment.
“If you must know, it was that God-damn guy from the office across me, and I didn’t piss him off, he just can’t take a joke.” He sat down on the bathroom floor, hugging his knees close to himself. “Why the fuck can’t anyone take a joke?” He sighed and rubbed his temples. He was stress, stressed enough to show a bit of emotion.
“Anyway, why are you PMSing more than usual today, darling dearest?”
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Post by riley william walsh on Jun 10, 2012 13:12:44 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #000000, width: 300px; height: 300px;] suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall marty was frustrating. but if riley were to be honest about that best friend of his, he had always been frustrating. even in their youth when they were boys who were much closer than two best friends should be. marty had always been stubborn. he had always been a bit more calloused than necessary. he had always been an ass. even if he had been younger then, he was still an ass. and riley had still loved him with everything that he was, because, well, maybe he was a bit of a moron when it came down to it. and maybe he should realize that no matter how good of a friend he was to the other man, he would never rightly appreciate him. and in all reality, he didn't mind so much. because marty was marty and he accepted him for who he was. that was the way that being someone's best friend was. really being their best friend. and riley really was marty's best friend. no matter what the two went through.
there were moments like this, though, that he wanted nothing more than to just make that best friend of his leave him alone until he was done being in a bad mood. because marty was not the kind of friend that you could talk to about your problems. he was not the type of friend that riley could lean on. or cry to. or even tell the majority of his problems. because marty didn't give a fuck about much in his own life and as far as riley could tell he gave even less of a fuck about the life of his best friend and what might be making him upset. but if there was one thing that riley noticed, it was that even though marty didn't always say things the right way when asking. so even if the way he was asking about his day was enough to piss riley off, there was a part of him that was happy he was even asking.
"you know what marty why don't you just-" he cut himself off at the appearance of his best friend. and in all truth, seeing marty beat up brought back thousand of memories from their youth. the only difference was that most of the time riley had been there to keep it from getting too bed. riley had been able to beat up whatever person was fucking with marty, and that was that. they were adults now, though, and riley couldn't protect him the way that he had been doing then. so instead, he just felt that twisting in his belly, that guilt starting to boil at not being there. not keeping his best friend from getting hurt. riley was a protector when it all came down to it. and when he couldn't protect. it drove him crazy.
riley made his way over to that friend of his with the towel wrapped around his and he kneeled down to get a better look at the marks on his face. his fingers came up to lightly touch the bruise on his face and his own face contorted into something none too pleased. "because, marty, the world is full of ass holes with no sense of humor," he said in simple tones before giving that friend of his a small smile as he pushed the hair away from his face. the look of worry seemed to take over his whole face in those moments.
"it doesn't matter," he muttered before moving to grab the first aid kit because lord knew marty never took proper care of himself. especially when it came to injuries from getting beat up. this was so reminiscent of the old days that he could've almost laughed about it. and hell he almost did. but instead he sat by his friend and held him by the chin turning his face so that he could get a better look at him. "god marty you got pretty fucked up this time," he said in soft tones then started cleaning him up. |
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