|black-hearted jude. (insincerity) wrote in armadas,|
@ 2014-10-15 02:40:00
|Entry tags:||!log, ship: juvi, universe: canon|
It was a tiny, shitty venue stuffed full of drunk, overdressed idiots shaking themselves into a frenzy for an equally drunk and shitty band. Another Saturday night, just like the last one. Something smelled a little like piss in the corner but it could have just been a spilled beer. Corona always smelled like piss to Jude. The crowd behind him thrummed with dancing bodies, just limber shadows throwing their weight around. Occasionally, the strobe light would illuminate a face and Jude would briefly know the identity of the girl with the loose hair damp with sweat or her shirtless paramour. He wrapped his fingers around the neck of his beer bottle and cleanly polished off the rest, setting the bottle down hard on the counter before he got up from his seat. He had come here with someone, and he needed to find her.
But these sort of terrible shows had a way of dragging the sane people to the bar, perhaps in search of something to make the experience a little more bearable. That was why Jude had abandoned Yuvi to the crowd, telling her he would find her and their friends later while he wove his way through the bodies. But for this reason, Jude wouldn’t be the only person at the bar trying to take in enough alcohol to make the music sound good; the person next to him turned and he saw a dark mouth like a bruise and feline eyes deliberately look him up and down. She smiled.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
“No,” he said and sat back down.
He had a terrible habit of escalating things. That’s what he told people who took notice of his rather colorful and eventful daily life. But what others might call disasters, Jude barely even called a setback. It was unfortunate that his girlfriend had not been around to slake his thirst, but there was a perfectly willing partner available to take care of the problem. They barely exchanged enough words to constitute as a conversation before he wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck to bring her face closer to his, mouth meeting teeth meeting tongue - and then not too longer after that when she suggested they move somewhere a little more private.
She tugged his hand and he followed her to a room past the bathrooms that was probably meant for the band. It had a couch, which was the main clue. Not that it really mattered. A hit of coke later, and Jude didn’t really care what the room was used for. He was much too busy getting better acquainted with his new friend, with his jeans around his ankles and she on her knees.
After twenty minutes, the scene began to bore Yuvi. She caught the eye of the lead guitarist from three rows back -- there was always a lead guitarist whose eye she could easily catch -- and she usually played coy and cool in a writhing thirsty crowd. In all honesty, had it been another night, if she had felt more engaged by her surroundings, she would’ve played this through. Let this rock nobody play to her like she was the only one in the room. But tonight, she was bored. She was ready to go. So her eyes were raking through the crowd in search of Jude.
If she knew him, he wouldn’t be with the crowd. Her eyes went to the bar, squinting through the strobing lights for him, to hopefully catch his eye so that she could give the signal to go. She spotted Jude, his profile almost directly across the way from her just as his lips collided with -- someone else. Her insides lit up and burned as she stood rooted, her eyes unable to tear away from Jude, her teeth gritting, her fingers curling her hands into fists. She waited, a pit yawning open within her. She waited until he was led away from the bar, until his blonde head disappeared behind a door before she made her way through the crowd. She didn’t even hurry. But with each step, she felt sickness rising in her stomach. She didn’t want to reach the door; she didn’t want to see the scene that lied behind it, but in no time at all, her hand was on the doorknob, twisting it open.
It was almost as if he expected her to show up. In fact, in a way he did - Yuvi would always find him, moth to flame. If she hadn’t showed up, he would have been undeniably disappointed in her and their supposed connection. That it was Yuvi twisting the doorknob and standing there only further cemented his belief that there was no one quite like her.
He was extraordinarily calm. He took his hand off of the girl’s head, where he had been pulling her hair, and told her, “Stop.” She moved to look over her shoulder, head lolling, not really comprehending. Jude paid little attention to her, taking his time in pulling up his pants but not bothering to zip them up before he roughly grabbed her by the arm. “Get up,” he said coldly, yanking her up by the elbow. She nearly stumbled but managed to catch herself, pulling her arm out of his grip. She couldn’t focus her eyes.
He pushed her onto the couch, where she fell back dazedly. “You need me for something?” he asked Yuvi, his tone clean and controlled. He moved to sit on the couch, as if he hadn’t just been caught with his dick in someone else’s mouth. Remarkably casual. He fiddled with his pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes, pulling one out before offering the box to her. “Want one?” he asked.
Her body nearly vibrated with anger, but her eyes were cold as she took in Jude’s casual demeanor. She flicked her long hair out of her eyes and over her shoulder, her heels clicking against the concrete floor as she made her way toward the couch, her eyes locked on his before they slid away from his face to fix on the dazed mess of a girl flopped beside her boyfriend. She snorted, laughed -- her face lit up with it as if she felt genuinely joyful -- for just a moment before it disappeared in an instant and in the blink of an eye, she swooped down on the girl, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her from the couch, half-dragging her to the door before shoving her through it roughly into the crowd. She shut it with a snap, her chest heaving, hand resting against the chipped-paint surface of it before she turned.
She was no longer measured or even. Her cold demeanor, even her laugh was gone as she slapped the lit cigarette from between his fingers viciously before she pushed her way onto his lap, fingers ripping through his hair, mouth bruising his. She kissed him with the entire force of her rage, one hand raking her nails down his chest before she stopped, shoving him away as she stood. “We’re fucking over,” she snapped, breathing heavy, before she turned to leave.
He hadn’t expected that - hadn’t expected her to walk away, that is. Kissing Yuvi was like taking another hit, and it took him a second to get his shit into gear. Move, Jude. He stood up, his eyes trying to take her in - standing there in her righteous anger, her hair messed up where he had raked his hands through during that last kiss. His gut felt cold - like someone had just taken ice water and poured it down his throat, freezing all his insides. It was better than feeling nothing at all, which was what he usually seemed to get from the world. Just event after mindless event that left him feeling empty and bored. But as always, Yuvi brought with her excitement. Illumination.
There was no way he was letting her go.
Jude moved faster than he thought he could, grabbing her wrist and then moving up her arm to dig his fingers into her shoulder. To secure her in place. He needed to root her so she couldn’t leave. “No, it’s not,” he said darkly. “We’re not fucking over unless I say we are. What, are you a little jealous? Grow the fuck up, Yuvi.” And then his voice was gentle and coddling. “It didn’t mean anything, baby.” At that, his hand moved from her shoulder to brush the side of her face affectionately, though the smirk on his face held little warmth if at all.
She brushed his hand away, her eyes glaring into his before her mouth split into a grin that contained no mirth. “Jealous? No, Jude, I’m simply appalled at your taste.” It was her turn to be casual, dismissive. Her teeth stayed bared, but her grin was long gone. “Let your backroom crackwhore sluts keep you warm. We’re done here.” Her voice was quiet, contained no trace of hurt or regret, even if her heart hammered painfully down her arm and all the way back up to her throat, her insides alight and buzzing. Even as she backed slowly toward the door, there was a part of her that wanted him to pull her back again.
Fear. He didn’t usually taste it but she brought it out of him again and again, as much a part of their relationship as the overwhelming love. He hated that she could do this to him but he needed her to keep doing it. He could feel the blood drumming at his temples as he struggled to think of how to keep her from walking out that door. But - why should he stop her? Something inside of him flared, ignited, and grew like a brushfire, using bitterness as tinder, insecurity as fuel. Anger was growing inside of him. If she wanted to leave so damn bad, maybe he should just let her.
He didn’t reach out for her. He kept his hand tightly balled in a fist at his side. He watched her back up towards that door, and he felt his own lips curl the closer she got to it. Just right when she might have turned to catch the doorknob and leave, Jude exploded, his fist crashing into the wall hard enough to make a sound and bust open a knuckle. But he barely registered it at all, still high.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he asked; he exchanged his dangerous low tones for an increasing volume, gaining power and anger as the fire inside him grew. “We’re not fucking finished here. You’ve got a lot of nerve, commenting on my taste when you’ve been the one in my fucking bed this entire week. But I guess slut is my type then, isn’t it?”
Yuvi flinched at the sound of Jude’s fist connecting with the wall, startled, her skin buzzing with fear and adrenaline. But rather than run away, she raced towards it, pushing off from the door against her back to approach Jude again. He was like fire to her gunpowder and she lit up at his words, coming alive even as they cut into her, burned her like acid.
“I’ve got a lot of nerve? I’m the slut? You’re really going to stand there and act like I didn’t just come in here and catch you with someone else’s mouth around your dick? You worthless prick, you fuck-up -- you can scream and punch walls and throw a fucking tantrum all you fucking want. You can’t stop me from walking out this door and it kills you.” She was in his face now, close enough to smell the remnants of his cigarettes, her voice needling. “It kills you, doesn’t it.”
He laughed in her face. “Kills me?” he repeated, “Listen, if you wanted to go out that door, you would’ve already been outside. But you’re not, so don’t try to act like I’m fucking begging you to stay, Yuvi.” He reached a hand up to caress the side of her face, his gaze still hard and absent of the gentleness and warmth he had given her up until tonight. “Come on, baby,” he coaxed, “just admit that you were jealous. You don’t really want to go. You’re just upset, aren’t you? It kills you to see me with other women, doesn’t it?” His voice, soothing and low, didn’t match the expression on his face whatsoever.
The mismatch between his expression and his tone dug its way beneath her skin as things began to click into place one by one. She could see this boy now, cold and hard and beautiful -- she could feel his coaxing words hooking into her, the sick pull in her stomach dragging her back to him. She shut her eyes against the caress of his hand against her cheek. She kissed him soft and gentle, breathing him in through her lips like smoke from a cigarette. It filled up her lungs, coursed through her veins. She stepped back, her gaze soft as her eyes drank in the sight of him.
“Just who do you think you’re talking to?” she said quietly before she pushed his hand away. She turned again, this time reaching the door, pulling it open, leaving Jude behind.