Rorie O'Bannon (roriemccool) wrote in tiberiusswann, @ 2011-02-15 20:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | rorie, tiger |
Friday October 17, 2008
Who: Rorie and Tiger
What: Fisticuffs!
Where: Rorie's dorm
When: A little bit after Garret leaves
Tiger was not about to take that shit at all. He had called Rorie to see if he was okay - clearly, he wasn’t but that was no reason to bite his fucking head off. So right, Tiger took a breath and counted to ten the moment Rorie hung up on him, thinking of the best course of action. He could leave Rorie in a stupor being angry. Or he could be the friend he was and go and see him, risking a backlash in return.
Five minutes later the artist found himself outside of Rorie’s door, knocking on it loudly. “I know you said to what was it - fuck off and leave you alone? But obviously I’m ignoring that so open the door.”
Rorie was sitting in his room, nursing the last bit of vodka, his bathroom not as smelly as before Finn came and cleaned it up. Everything else was a mess though, especially the man sitting in the floor at the foot of bed. Stubbled and dirty and stinky, he smelt like the cheap alcohol he was consuming as well as his place having the distinct order of pot. Hearing the knock, thinking it was Garret again, for some reason, he got up and stormed towards the door even after hearing Tiger’s voice.
“I said fuck off,” he growled flinging the door open to find the other man there. “If I wanted to talk, I’d pick up the fucking phone and dial a pizza,” he snarled moving to slam the door shut in the other man’s face.
Immediately, Tiger’s temper flared up and that was a rare thing to happen. With his brow furrowed he didn’t even have time to take into account the smell of his friend or the dishevelled way he looked. Rorie was angry, sure, but he was on self destruct and to hell if Tiger was gonna see someone else he loved spiral down into nothing. At least Rorie could fucking stop himself, he was just being a dick.
Knocking again, merely out of courtesy, Tiger sounded stronger. “I aint here to talk. I’m here to get your fucking ass right.”
“Fuck you!” Rorie screamed through the door, not even bothering to open it, though it wasn’t unlocked at all. “Fuck you and the whatever the fuck you rode in on! So! FUCK! OFF!” He screamed throwing a dirty glass he had at the door. Nothing was going to calm him down until he got all that shit out of his system, alcohol and anger included. Grabbing the bottle of vodka, he chugged the last few shots worth before leaning against his dresser running his hands through his hair and over his face.
There was something to be said for having Romanian ancestry, especially the gypsy kind. His Dad was something like 1/8th Italian, too, so he had a bunch of fiesty European genes running through him which apparently were kicking in now at Rorie’s refusal to let him in. His rational side said he didn’t mean it - kid was upset, devastated by the break up but his angry side, more dominant now, was just furious he wasn’t listening and being so stupid about the whole thing.
Striding into the room, Tiger slammed the door shut behind him. “You stupid drunk ass fuck,” he hissed at him, going over to try and ease him away. “What are you doing to yourself? You think this helps any?”
“Fuck you!” Rorie said rounding on the other as he stormed in. “It fuckin’ helps me so fuck off!” he said glaring and snarling. “I’m doing what the fuck I want because I’m only looking out for me! I want to be drunk, so I’m fucking drunk. You can’t tell me what to do,” he said pushing Tiger back towards the door. “So get the fuck out of my room and leave me alone.” Rorie wasn’t a real fighter. He was a brawler, so a push was something of a challenge. ‘Either fuck off or fight me bitch’ was what it translated to and the way things were going, there was going to be some words as well as fists.
Soon as Rorie pushed him something in Tiger changed. Swallowing down the urge to punch the fucker, which was odd for the normally even-tempered artist, Tiger clenched his fists then relaxed. “You’re not thinking straight. It does not help you. You’re a mess. You’re driving me away because you are effected by the tons of fucking pot you’re smoking.... which I dunno where you got this from, either, cause it sure as hell aint mine.... and you’re being stupid. So stop shouting... and fucking talk to me - okay?”
“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” Rorie seethed. “I don’t wanna talk, I don’t want to be around anyone, I just wanna be left alone for fuck’s sakes!” He just snapped. He was hurting so bad mixed with the drugs and the alcohol, he was lucky he wasn’t dead yet. Though if it was pointed out, he wouldn’t care. “I don’t care if I’m a mess or driving you away. So fuck off and leave me alone you stupid faggot.” Oh. . . Oh dear. That had come out all wrong. Rorie didn’t care though, he was on a one track hill to fucking himself over and just destroying himself. So be it if Tiger left, then he’d be alone again at least.
“This isn’t you!” Tiger began to argue, but Rorie snapped right back at him which he did not appreciate and his anger flared. “Hey! I know you’re hurting , and I know you might not care that you’re driving everyone away but when you’re sober? And when you’re feeling miserable wanting people to talk to and they don’t care about your sorry ass, you’ll turn to me – You know it, everyone fucking knows it. You can tell me to fuck off all you like but I am not - I fucking REFUSE to let you do this to yourself you stupid prick so calm the hell down!”
“No!” Rorie said pushing Tiger again. He just wanted him to leave so he could wallow in his misery alone. He didn’t want the other around despite how half of him was wanting to cling and hold onto him. No, he was going to stand by himself and that was that. “Leave me the fuck alone!” He screamed. “I don’t want you here! I don’t want anyone here! So just go!” Screaming it again, like he had at Garret, he couldn’t stop himself. Before he knew it, his fist was flying and landed against Tiger’s cheek hard.
Tiger hated seeing Rorie hurt so bad but fucking H Christ, this was not the answer. This wasn’t even the temporarily solution. A temp was to sleep with loads of other people in order to forget, not blitz yourself to the point of no return or liver fucking failure. It wasn’t like he’d been in perfect health recently either. Trying to go a different route, Tiger stepped forward and began to speak when Rorie swung at him and hit him square in the jaw. Reeling, Tiger clung to his cheek in surprise, but before he could get over the shock he’d set a glare on Rorie and launched himself at him a second later, swinging his own right hook in reply.
There was just a fight begging to be had when Rorie finally snapped. He didn’t care if it was Tiger or the Dali Llama. There was a lot of pent up anger and pain and it was finally breaking free. Nothing really left to say, Rorie just went with it now. His own head flew to the side when Tiger hit him back. Now it was on. Not aiming, not trying, just a flury of fists against the smaller man ended up almost in a cartoonish dust bubble of Rorie tackling them down and just trying to stay on top of the other man.
Rorie definitely was a brawler and not a fighter. Fortunately, Tiger was used to such attacks because of the many years of playfighting his cousins had insisted on subjecting him to over the years. This was by no means a playfight but Tiger could still hold his own. The smaller man dodged a few blows, delivering some punches to Rorie’s ribs and stomach before he basically tackled him, pushing himself forward and putting all his weight behind ramming Rorie into the desk.
They were each holding their own for sure. Even with Rorie blitzed out of his mind, the man was delivering his own blows, albeit to Tiger’s back since the other man had him around the middle. He didn’t even pause till he was slammed into the desk. “Fuck!” he cried out as he felt the pain racing through his back. Not that it stopped him. He got his hard, but he kept going, just slamming his fists into Tiger’s back before trying to get his lanky leg up and kneeing him in the stomach.
Fuck. With the wind knocked out of him Tiger stumbled backwards, coughing hard. His back fucking ached and his jaw was smarting from the initial punch Rorie had delivered. Reaching back to Rorie’s bed he tried to regain his balance. This was by no means productive. At all. With his body aching he only had one thought - victory - as Rorie headed towards him he did a swift uppercut to the other man’s jaw.
Things were not going well for either of them. It seemed that neither was going to give. With Tiger off of him, Rorie took the moment that Tiger used to regain his balance, to catch his breath for a moment before charging to only wind up with the punch to the jaw. His body just was like ‘what the hell?’ as he fell back reeling. His head was confused and fuzzy and now he had a raging headache as he laid on the floor, defeated, and not getting up any time soon.
Thank fuck for that. As Rorie fell to the floor Tiger did a mini celebratory woop in his head at his victory but it fell to the wayside as he regarded his friend; hurting, stoned, drunk, angry, and now fucking beaten up lying on the floor. Leaning back on the bed Tiger eventually collapsed himself so that he was next to Rorie, breathing heavily as his ribs and spine ached to fuck. His face felt like it was swelling but braving the pain he eventually turned to look at him silently.
Laying there on the floor, Rorie was a mess and was lucky he didn’t mess himself. Breathing heavily, he felt like someone had dumped him in a trash can and banged on the sides nonstop. Ow. Everything hurt. His head, belly, back, heart. He just laid there resting as everything settled. Staring at the ceiling blankly, he didn’t even realize his was crying again. Not sobbing or whimpering, just. . . Crying.
Watching as tears streamed down Rorie’s face Tiger immediately felt bad for him. The anger was receding slowly from Tiger’s body as tiredness and compassion took over. Sliding his hand into Rorie’s, his fingers entwining gently with his, he gave him a gentle squeeze.
“He said I didn’t get to be like this,” Rorie finally said softly, almost a whisper. “Because I told him we were done. I didn’t get to be a mess when it was my own fault. . . It is all my fault. . . I fucked up and now. . . He can’t even look at me anymore. I thought. . . Maybe once things had settled down, that maybe we could try again, but. . . We’re not. . .”
Listening to him speak Tiger ran a thumb along Rorie’s, blinking sadly at him. He wished he could make it better but he couldn’t. Nobody could. “You call this settled?” he said softly, trying to make it lighter. “It’s not settled. You’ve been drinking and destroying yourself since Sunday, man... this isn’t... rational. Maybe he’d be more inclined to say that you could try again if you were.... better.”
“No. . . He said he couldn’t. . .” Rorie said taking a breath. “Not after what I did. I ruined everything, I always ruin everything,” he whispered. “He came here, told me straighten out. But he won’t have me. Why the hell should I try when he’s not. . . There’s no point to it. It’s over and he’s not coming back. . .” Laying there, he had Tiger’s hand in his own, a limp grip on it. “Just make it stop Tigger. . . I just want it to stop.”
Rolling onto his side, ignoring the pain and the complete dizziness that was swirling around his head, Tiger wrapped his arms around Rorie gently, resting his head on Rorie’s chest and just holding him close. He wanted nothing more than to make everything better for him, to vanish the pain but he couldn’t. All he could do was try and comfort him.
Rorie just laid there as Tiger wrapped himself around him. He let him before he curled up around him as well. All cried out as he just let the tears run their course. He was done fighting and drinking and just. . . He was just tired. Everything was out and now he just felt empty. “I’m sorry I hit you Tigger.”
With a small laugh Tiger petted his head. “It’s ok. I won.” He shot him a little grin to show he was joking before he nestled in closer, resting his head on his shoulder. “You gave as good as you got my friend. We all get bruises, they’ll fade. So will the hurt....” He pressed a hand on Rorie’s chest and patted him gently. “You’re not a fuck up. It just wasn’t right... okay?”
“Kay,” Rorie said just laying there wrapped up with Tiger. “I’m think I might pass out,” he mumbled, not even caring that he was in the floor. “Might need ta get in bed,” he said fading a bit from all the exertion, blows to the head, and alcohol finally getting to him while he just laid there.
So now Rorie apparently wanted to move. Tiger figured he’d be hard pressed to move on his own, and the artist wasn’t too strong to drag his carcass to the bed all by himself. “I’ll try get your heavy ass up there, but you gotta help me.” Getting to his feet, still wincing from the blows Rorie had delivered, he reached out. “C’mon. Up.”
“ ‘m comin’,” he said pushing himself up slowly, using Tiger as a balance aid while he felt like a new born calf. Lanky limbs just flopping around and wobbly as hell. Oh boy. His stomach rolled, but nothing heaved because he didn’t have anything to heave. He hadn’t eaten since Declan had fed him and now he just had vodka leaving his belly. Awkwardly, they got to the bed, Rorie just flopping in haphazardly.
Tiger’s ribs really hurt, Rorie had done a number on him. The one time he really wanted to not be human was now. He figured he’d have been almost healed should he have been of the super super variety. Tugging him up so that he could fall into his bed, Tiger went to follow when his lip gave him a sting. A brush of a thumb later and he realised the inside of his lip was bleeding. “Motherfucker....” He mumbled, licking it off, before following Rorie onto the bed, covering him up. “You need to shower tomorrow. And shave. You stink. And we need to clear this room.”
“Fine,” Rorie sighed with a huff. “Tomorrow. . . Afternoon.” When he was sober and not hung over, cause. . . Holy fuck was that gonna be a bitch to deal with. “Maybe evenin’,” he mumbled, feeling better under the warm covers with a warm body. Just something to make it more bearable even though it felt like he’d been gutted with a melon baller.
“Whenever you do it, I don’t care, just make sure you do it. I’ll pass out from your fumes.” Settling down next to him Tiger grimaced, making sure Rorie’s arm was down. “Dude. I’ve smelt tramps better than you. Call yourself gay, you’re not even clean in misery. Sort it out.”
“Ya could always sleep in Pete’s bed,” Rorie muttered with a snort. “I want my dog back. . .” He said softly after a moment, a bit of clarity that he was being horrible to an animal that did nothing but love him. “Tomorrow. Get’m tomorrow.” Right then he was stuck and lucky he got as far as the bed.
Dragging the cover so it was almost over Rorie’s face and not around himself, Tiger poked Rorie’s shoulder before settling down as best he could. “Shut up and go to fucking sleep.” There was really not a part of him that was able to get comfortable, but he would stay. Healers’d heal in time. Right now, Rorie couldn’t be left alone.