Affliction

Title: Affliction

Author: Hikasne

Pairing: Duncan/Courtney

Words: 1, 949 (part 1)

Summary:

- Why she kept coming back, he didn't know. -

Still, he wasn't complaining.

[Oneshot, songfic, DuncanxCourtney]

--

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I drove for miles and miles and

Wound up at your door

I've had you so many times

but somehow, I want more…

- 'She Will Be Loved', Maroon Five

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--

"More," Duncan stressed. "More!"

He slammed his glass on the table, twice, until the bartender came around, looking highly annoyed. Duncan twisted on his wooden stool anxiously, eyes half-closed as he stared blindly at his empty cup. "More, hurry up!"

"This is your fourth glass this half-hour, mister," he said, pouring him another cup of beer as he spoke. "You're buzzed."

"I know," he slurred, taking a big sip and slopping half the glass down his button-down shirt. "I know, man."

--

(Beauty queen of only eighteen,

She had some trouble with herself…)

--

The bartender shrugged. It wasn't his problem. He walked away to refill his tankard.

"Oh," he muttered as he downed his cup. "Oh, wow…" He slammed his empty glass onto the table again, signaling for more, but the bartender wouldn't come.

"Fucking bastard," he murmured, barely opening his mouth and resting his head on his folded arms. "Why, why, why," he repeated to himself. The world was spinning and tipping, swirling and rippling in front of his eyes. He closed his eyes, and there was relief in the darkness. Nothing moved, even though there was a horrible, aching pain in the back of his head that was pulsating unpleasantly.

He felt something bump against him, a cold splash, a girlish giggle, then a loud, 'Oops!'. He looked up. A girl with blonde hair was standing in front of him, hand over her mouth as she looked at the big pink mess she'd left on the floor. Her glass was turned upside down in her hand. Her friends were waiting behind her, laughing too.

Her makeup was overly done, a cowboy hat on her head and her plaid shirt tied above her flat stomach. She was barefooted, with rings on her fingers and toes.

"Sorry, sir," she said in that voice of hers. She took a step closer. "Hey, come and dance."

"No. Go away." His voice was unsteady and he shooed her away with a big drunken whisk of his hand. "You're not…you're not Courtney." He heaved a big sigh.

"No, I'm not," she said, looking offended as her friends glared in unison, and she walked away, leaving her drink splattered all over Duncan and all over the floor.

The man sitting next to him was still sitting up straight, looking wearily at Duncan, and somewhat pityingly too. He asked the bartender for another glass for himself, and another one for Duncan, on him. The bartender shrugged. "Hey, he's kicked. You wanna handle it, be my guest." He obliged and tended to a couple sitting at the front door.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, getting ready to jump out of his seat and flee should Duncan hiss at him. He gently knocked on Duncan's outstretched elbow.

Duncan looked up, his face miserable. His mouth was twitching at the sides. "Me, man? She left me. She left me. I can't deal with it."

"Who?" he responded tentatively. "Courtney?"

"She did. She did. She left me. Why did she? Did I do something wrong?" he moaned. He didn't ask why his glass was refilled, merely gulped it all down in one quick gasp. The name seemed to have provoked a fresh wave of misery and he kicked self-pityingly at the table.

"I'm…sorry for you," he said, taking a timid sip of his own drink.

"Thanks," Duncan said, his words meshing together, almost incoherently, drawing out the last syllable and swiping his glass onto the floor with a giant sweep of his hand. It shattered. The bartender glared, but seemed unwilling to approach Duncan. The man could hardly blame him; Duncan looked almost demented. "Won't change a thing, though."

"I know." The man finished his own drink and grabbed his briefcase. "I can give you advice, though."

Duncan looked up, a hint of bemusement coloring his glazed eyes. "Oh yeah? What do you know that I don't? I did everything to help her. Tried to."

--

(He was always there to help her,

She always belonged to someone else…)

--

"You can go to her. You can go to her, can't you? Bet you didn't think of that." The man offered him a small, hesitant smile. "Gotta dash. My wife's waiting."

"You wife…" Duncan groaned.

The man grimaced apologetically. "Yeah. See you." He exited quickly, and Duncan thought he saw a flash of white light lace the glass doorframe before speeding away with the faint sound of squealing tires.

Duncan got up, trying to follow, but stumbled. His legs were cold.

"Get up," he commanded himself loudly. "Get up!"

He was as unsteady on his legs as a newborn baby deer. "Get up!" he yelled out loud.

Everyone looked over at him. The bartender gritted his teeth, taking in the sight of Duncan's wet shirt and the pink drink splashed on the hem of his pants. This was bad for business. He nodded at the man sitting at the nearest table, and together they got up and hoisted Duncan onto his knees, latching onto his underarm as they dragged him forcibly from the bar.

"You don't understand," he moaned, still loud, as the threesome approached the front door, everyone's eyes still on them. "She left! Can't you drown yourself in alcohol…sorrow…she left me…haven't you ever had your heart broken, you asshole?…put me down…I'm not done…"

They left him on the front step and closed the door behind him. "And stay out!" the bartender bellowed.

Outside, it was raining steadily, pelting down. The sky was faintly gray, sinking into blackness.

He got on his feet somehow and stumbled drunkenly to his black car. It wasn't there. The parking meter was still ticking his minutes, reading that he had twenty-eight minutes left. Twenty-eight minutes he wasted, and two quarters, too.

He thought about what the man had said. He thought about driving there. He honestly thought about driving those miles to her house, asking for forgiveness and spending a night in her bed. It could be easy. But it wasn't.

--

(I drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door,

I've had you so many times but somehow I want more…)

--

"Damn!" he swore loudly and kicked the meter.

The rain was soaking through his jacket now and his streaked black and green hair was starting to plaster itself to his forehead and neck.

"Damn it! Damn this whole fucking universe!" he shouted to no one in particular. The bartender was still keeping a suspicious eye from the window of the bar, but scuttled away as Duncan caught his eye. A couple walking with their hands in each other's back pockets hurried away too, under a red umbrella.

He sat down on the curb and watched the couple walk away. He thought about what it might be like, what it would be like to be with her again. Those could have been the happiest months of his life, those years and those moments. But they were gone, and so was she.

Duncan pictured her. He tried to remember things about her face, but it'd been so long. All he remembered was her beauty had made him, unbearably, content. He remembered her expression after their first time, the dreamy, sleepy, pleased expression. And when the rain continued to fall on his window, she didn't seem to mind.

He remembered her eyes, big and black, and her lips, her upper lip slightly thinner than the lower. The imperfection, ridiculously, made him love her more.

The brown hair, which he'd once thought was so mousy, he couldn't imagine what delusional state he'd been in. The skin, her skin, that dark color shades tanner than his. In his hands with him positioned over her.

He thought of the words she'd said to him that she'd sworn were meant for forever.

"I love you," she'd said in hindsight. What a lie.

I love you, too, he thought, muttering it to no one.

--

(She will be loved, and she will be loved…)

--

She'd said other things, too. Forever, she promised.

He walked. He walked the whole four miles, and as he approached a few blocks from home, he ran, sprinted, his jacket flying behind him. His piercings were cold on his skin, and he could feel them.

He was now completely soaked through. He thought of warm nights, skin and sweat, breathing, the sound and the feel of her beneath him, her skin in his hands and his mouth, and her body in surrender; in the car, on the bed, in his kitchen, in her parent's room, on the floor of his living room, in her backyard; her pleas and his refusal, her body rigid; hands on her neck, then lips and tongue; out of comfort, out of lust, sometimes out of spite.

He wanted that feeling again. He wanted it when she left, and he wanted it more than ever now.

--

(I don't mind spending everyday out on your corner in the pouring rain,

Look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay a while…)

--

He exploded through the front door of Riverview Apartments and Co., dripping, breathing hard. The man at the front desk, Riley, spoke, looking up. "Good evening, sir, can I help—" He did a double take. "Hey, do I know—"

Duncan collapsed onto the floor, legs giving out from exhaustion and alcohol. He held onto his windbreaker like it was his last lifeline, breathing hard. "Riley—"

Riley rushed over, helping Duncan to his feet while looking quizzically the whole time. Comprehension dawned on his scarred face. "Duncan?"

"Yeah," he said, holding his chest and struggling for breath. "And I—"

"You look like shit, man," Riley noted, looking Duncan from head to foot. "You've been drinking again? I thought you quit when she came around."

Duncan glared at Riley's feet. "Riley. She's…not around." His breath was giving…

Riley look mildly surprised. "Oh. Sorry."

Duncan didn't say anything.

"What the hell is that on your pants?" Riley demanded, staring at the pink stuff splattered on Duncan's shoes and the hem of his pants.

"Just—a drink—" Duncan said, wringing out his sleeves and wiping grime off his pants. His breath was still sporadic.

Riley raised his eyebrows but said nothing else on the matter. "Oh, yeah. Hey. There's a girl up to see you. Hot one, too. Let her up into your apartment."

Duncan started, looking up, heart beating ridiculously fast. "What?" he demanded.

"Yeah. Brown hair, tan, sort of tall."

"What?" he repeated again, almost disbelieving.

Riley now looked just exasperated. "Man, you're a mess. I said, I let some chick—hey!"

*

Duncan wasn't listening. He whipped past Riley to wait in front of the elevator, swearing the whole time, mind rushing a million miles an hour.

END AFFLICTION PT. I

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Tap on my window, knock on my door, I want to make you feel beautiful,

I know I tend to get so insecure, doesn't matter anymore…

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