Flash Thompson | Agent Venom (thevenomchoseme) wrote in the100, @ 2016-04-20 21:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, !trigger, flash thompson / agent venom (616), flash thompson / agent venom (trn123) |
WHO: Flash Thompson and Flash Thompson
WHEN: April 18th, after their conversation on bbFlash's network post.
WHERE: starting in the dining hall and ending in an unused alcove
WHAT: The Ghost of Thompson Future needs to give a big talking to the Ghost of Thompson Past.
WARNING: hahahaha, oh boy. language, alcoholism/under-age drinking, ptsd, slight-ableism, allusions to abuse/neglect & bullying. AKA the Flash Thompson character history cocktail.
Flash wasn’t looking forward to this ‘little talk’ and it had nothing to do with how his head was pounding. The hangover sure didn’t help with doing anything but lying in bed, but it had nothing to do with how much he wanted to drag his feet. He knew what was coming. Or he could at least guess pretty well. He fucked up. Again. That much was obvious. But he knew how much of a bad idea drinking was as soon as he’d made the decision the night before. He shouldn’t do it. He knew all the reasons why.
But remembering some of those reasons was why he’d gone straight to the bottle. The pounding in his head was ten times better than dealing with those memories. Some fading, but most sticking fast. Just one night. One night he needed to drown them out and make them go away when everything was still so close and fresh. After that… He’d be good. He’d promised that to himself and he’d promise it to anyone else who needed it. He just needed the one night…
The benefit of meeting in the dining hall was that he could at least supply up. He filled an old water bottle that’d been in with his sports supplies with water as the tendrils of symbiote arched out to grab some muffins. Might as well use them now that he had them back, even if they were a little sluggish from the ache in his brain. Once he was loaded up, he carefully lowered himself onto a bench, nursing the water bottle and picking pieces off the top of a muffin as he waited.
--
Being back in the mountain was like being dunked in cold water. A sudden shock that leeched away all the comfort and warmth. Storybrooke seemed less like a fleeting dream and more like the way things could have been, but life hadn't given him many breaks and there was no reason to start now.
The older Flash Thompson had calmed down by the time he reached the dining hall. He was walking with the help of the symbiote. After the past two and a half weeks it felt more natural than using the wheelchair. Once again, he was dropped right into it and, in a way, still dealing with his own bad decisions.
He could have told the kid that the symbiote could sober him up pretty quickly, take away the migraine and the nausea but binge drinking-- drinking in general wasn't really something he wanted to encourage. Celebration or not.
He entered the dining room, making more than enough noise to alert his younger self of his presence then stopped about a foot in front of him.
"Get up," Flash greeted. "Let's go."
--
His head turned at the first noise and Flash winced at the spike it sent through his head. Oh, this’d be fun. His eyebrows raised at the man walking towards him. Ok, actual walk then. He’d been wondering. It really was a coin flip of how his older self would show up. On a certain level, he got not wanting to depend on the symbiote. Especially when the alien one seemed more… ragey… But using it now didn’t surprise him that much. Whether the other man was feeling the same thing or not, they’d been two weeks without something that was a constant presence in their lives and a part of them. He’d be making the most of having it back. Well, he was making the most of it already, so…
He took another swig of water before pushing himself up. “Right. Lead the way,” he puffed out, waiting for the older man to start walking before falling into step with him.
He kept his eyes focused forward, alternating between sipping from the old Midtown water bottle and taking bites of the muffin as he waited for the inevitable chew out. As they walked, he risked one side glance though. Enough so he could get a good judge of distance before a tendril snaked out, dangling the other untouched muffin out in offering to the other Flash.
--
The older man shook his head. It was probably a short sighted decision, pretty soon there'd be a muffin shortage again, but he wasn't hungry. This wasn't going to be a lighthearted moment over breakfast. They made their way out of the mess hall and up the hall, heading towards where the janitorial supplies were kept. There shouldn't be too many people in that area. Flash wanted someplace private for this talk but not secluded.
He still wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say because he'd only gotten as far as, 'What the hell were you thinking?' And really, it was going to be less a discussion and more of a dressing down. Flash had spent far too long at the bottom of a bottle and he'd be damned if he had to sit back and watch it all over again.
He finally stopped in a little alcove. It didn't seem like an area that got much traffic. "How's your head?" he finally asked.
--
Flash caught the head shake out of the corner of his eye and shrugged. It had been worth a shot. The symbiote deposited the muffin in a newly formed cargo pocket. And then it was just walking. Waiting. Walking and waiting. Dread made him want to drop back. Drag his feet again. But there was no way he’d let the older man outpace him. Even if he was striding straight into his doom.
Or well, an alcove. Same thing? Maybe? He had been preparing for the worse, so the question caught him off guard. He stared a moment, before blinking out of it and clearing his throat. “Uh.. Hurts…” He made a face as he blew out a sigh. “I’d take a Hulk punch over this any day…”
--
"Good," the older Flash retorted flatly. He'd actually been on the receiving end of a few Hulk punches and it always left his ears ringing. It was still the better choice all things considered. "Next time you feel like partying, remember that feeling. How much did you drink?"
--
He flinched and ducked his head at the reprimand. Kinda reprimand. He deserved it. Focusing down on the water bottle, he scratched his thumb against the plastic For a split second, he pondered about keeping up the lie he’d tossed out because of the public forum. Partying fit with the image. Partying was a thing he’d done before. Partying was better than...
He breathed out a heavy sigh. “Wasn’t partying,” he said quietly before shaking his head slowly enough that it wouldn’t ache too much. “I don’t know. Wasn’t counting. Enough to…” He swallowed hard. “Enough to forget.”
--
That… that was a different story.
With age came wisdom so the saying went, but for Flash Thompson all it had done was bring on tons of resentment. Stuck in a dead end job, reliving his high school and college glory days to anyone that would listen, Flash had spent most of his twenties in a bar trying to drink his way into oblivion. Because if the world wasn't going to change to his liking, he decided he'd drink until it didn't matter anymore. And that's exactly what he'd done.
Flash exhaled loudly and fought down the urge to make a fist or maybe just grab his younger self by the collar and shake some sense into him.
"Forget what?" he asked, the words coming out harsh and low.
--
He was being good. He was being really, really good. Until that tone. His jaw set, his head snapped up. Ok, bad idea, ouch, but seeing the bit too familiar look on the older man’s face made it easy enough to push down the stab through his skull.
“Take a wild guess, coach,” he snapped before gesturing at the older man. “Just get it out. Yell all you want. Can’t be worse than what’s in my head.”
--
Patience had never been Flash's strong suit. He tried over the years but then it would reach a point where things would go red. He tried even harder now because the symbiote was always ready to cut loose. All it needed was for him to drop his guard enough-- but that couldn't happen here. He wouldn't let it.
So instead of instantly yelling back, he held his tongue and tried to push past the burning anger. It hadn't been like this with Andi and she'd been all rage and hurt but even she'd never gone and done something like this. And maybe he rode the kid too hard but it was hard not to when you knew where the road led.
"Worse than what? Being stuck in some small town? Look," the older Flash continued, expression softening a bit but the words still flat, "if you saw stuff when you're on tour. I'm sorry. It happens. But you running away, isn't going to get you anywhere."
--
Flash was ready to snap at the question. Spit out all the reasons why being stuck was worse. That if all the pot shots the older man took at him meant anything, it’d be that he’d know full well why it was so horrible. But the rest caught him off balance. The anger ebbed away, his brows pinched together in confusion.
“On tour… what…” His eyes widened and his stomach dropped, feeling a sick that had nothing to do with the hangover. “Cole… y’think…”
He pressed his lips tight together and leaned back until he bumped into the wall of the alcove. It made sense… He’d thought the same when he’d gotten his memories back after all. That there wasn’t another person in Marshall Cole’s head. That it was some way to mess him up, having someone else getting to be the hero he could only hope to be and him stuck in the small town. That was something that happened in weird magic dream things, right?
The symbiote reached out to hold the water bottle and muffin so he could cradle his head in his hands. Fuck, he’d been stupid last not so he wouldn’t have to think about this shit. Not get kicked in the gut with it. The most brain breaking memories were fading, but he remembered plenty and… he hated it. He hated the whole situation. But he missed having Cole as a friend, which just stirred up everything else he was missing. His teammates. SHIELD Academy. Fighting that fight to keep everyone safe. He tried to swallow that all down again.
“I..” he started. Stopped. Restarted. “I wasn’t lying. I’m not… Just this once. I know how that sounds, but I ain’t lying…”
--
'Just this once… just one more drink… just something to get me through the end of the day…' 'You don't know how hard this is.' 'You don't understand. I need this.' Flash knew all the rhetoric. He'd thought it all, said it all, screamed some of it. And eventually, he'd gotten to a point where he stopped trying to make excuses. Alcohol didn't judge you the way other people did.
It understood. It took the edge off, dulling everything, wrapping all your troubles into an intoxicated haze. It smoothed out the rough edges, blotted out all the problems, made the world into something that seemed manageable again. An instant escape all in a glass.
"Never again," Flash said, words flat, "I swear this'll be the last time. I'm going to stop. I swear." He exhaled loudly and rubbed a hand over his face. The anger he'd felt early had settled into a slow burn. "I've spent years telling myself that. And do you know what I discovered?" He leaned a bit closer, speaking low. "I'm really good at lying to myself."
--
Yup. That’d be exactly what it sounded like. Sure, the words had only been half-hearted in Edie’s head back in that other world. A fleeting thought to be waved off because it wasn’t a problem. Her parents hadn’t been the same as Flash’s though, why would it be a problem for her? Hearing it aloud now didn’t help the situation any.
He should fight back. Throw the words back at his older self. Make some cocky comment about how he wasn’t the same. He’d do better. Except… Looking at the other man, for the first time since he’d gotten the symbiote, he wanted to run. Get away. Protect himself. Because the words hit too close to home like always. The other man knew him too well, even if the topic was off. If you say something enough times, everyone will believe it, right? Maybe even including yourself… After all, if you didn’t go with it full force, why would anyone else go along?
His head ducked, gaze drawn down to the floor and feet he knew weren’t really there. Just another nifty trick of the alien symbiote and- that was the most ridiculous lie, wasn’t it? He could do better… Better than hero who gave that much? Better than the guy who got chosen to wear the symbiote because of that? Better than someone who apparently that was enough of a part of them that it transferred over into some weird ass magic dream world? Ha. They didn’t even want you to have it, whispered through his head not for the first time. If they knew how to tear it off of you, they would.
The symbiote oozed up his neck and down his arms a bit. A knee jerk ‘it’s mine’ reaction to his train of thought. “I’m not you…” he breathed out, voice quiet and defeated as his eyes stayed trained on the floor.
--
And that was the main issue, wasn't it?
They were the same person in an alternate universe way but... they also weren't. There were little differences here and there: siblings, friends, school. Some of them were obvious and others weren't. For starters, Flash knew that the kid he'd been in high school would never have been this cowed, even if someone knew exactly which buttons to push. He would have lashed out, taken the fight to a physical level before anything more could be said.
Thankfully, that hadn't happened here. There'd been a moment of tension when the other symbiote had decided to make its presence known but then… nothing.
Where did they even go from here? Flash tried to remember being back in high school, putting on the big front, constantly talking himself up, all for approval he'd never get. He never wanted to be a role model or a father. Maybe just a second chance to go back and things right… which he had... in a disturbingly ironic way.
"You're right," he finally said, breaking the silence before it could get too unbearable. "You're not me. You have a chance to make better decisions. You want me to believe that you're different, then prove it."
--
For just a second, his shoulders sagged. It shouldn’t be a surprise. The older guy was in his head far too much. Of course he’d agree with him on that point…
Except it didn’t end at that. Ok, that part was surprising. He risked a look up, half expecting some sort of trap. Not that he knew how that could be a trap, but maybe it could be? The words seemed genuine though and… Maybe there were still more harsh words waiting, but for now, that last part was easy to focus on. A goal. A challenge. He was good at tackling challenges.
At least when he knew the rules to it all…
Nodding slowly, he straightened up and took a deep breath to compose himself better than before. Just one more hard step. Hopefully just one more… “Yeah. Ok. I just…” He let out a long whoosh of breath. “I don’t know where to start… Back home…” He stumbled over the word, pushing down that feeling of homesickness he was still trying to get used to. “It’s easier back home. There’s classes and training non-stop and then patrolling to keep the city safe and… It ain’t the same here…”
--
The request took a moment to process, but it made sense. There were plenty of schools and community centers that did their best to fund afterschool programs. Keep kids off the street, keep them safe and out of trouble. But could it really be that simple? Flash almost felt like laughing.
"You're saying you have too much free time." He shook his head slightly, in amusement. Give the kid enough to do so he wouldn't have time to do stupid things. Could it be that easy? "I can work with that. I'm sure I can think of a few things and the squad too. In fact, I've already got an idea."