#cardimelech

It wasn’t even valid.

timaeusyestified liked your post:sneezed so hard i smashed my face into my desk

well arent you a sight for sore eyes

cardimelech liked your post: lol my assistant hates it when i chew ...

thank you thank you ill be here all week

1. rebel prince - rufus wainwright [lyrics]

2. cigarette daydreams - cage the elephant [lyrics]

3. lollipop - mika [lyrics]

4. bad romance - lady gaga [lyrics]

5. it's bad for me - rosemary clooney [lyrics]

Nope, there it was, real as ever: ‘You are to come to my house, David. You are to bring your briefcase and wear what clothes I provided you with after you clean yourself up a bit. Shower, shave, et cetera. I expect you in no more or less than an hour.’

Heel of your palm grinds into your eye and you swear under your breath, letting the feeling of extreme unease wash over you for a moment. You don’t move. You hold your breath. You think maybe you should go over there drunk and let him deal with it. You remember also you left last weekend before he technically released you even though you hadn’t even seen the fucker.

As you gather your things your mind wanders to all the things he could possibly want to see you for. All the things he could possibly want to do to you. Anxiety grips you and you have to stop, a hand gripping the edge of your dresser as you feel your knees begin to weaken under you. Your breathing is difficult and you swallow reflexively - struggling to the bathroom and groping around helplessly for your anxiety medication. It’s behind the ugly soap dish you got at a Christmas party three years ago, and in your shaky haste you knock it to the floor. It shatters. You can’t even feel satisfied (you’ve been looking for an excuse to get rid of it for a while) because you jerked the cap too hard and time seems to slow down as your pills hit the floor like hail, scattering in a thousand directions. 

You give a frustrated cry and panic even more, falling to your knees to desperately try and scoop at least one of them up. You manage, and without brushing it off you throw it into your mouth, swallowing immediately. It sticks in the back of your throat (your mouth is so, so dry) and you gag, hauling yourself up onto the counter to run the faucet and shovel handful after handful of water into your mouth to try and get the little pill down, and keep anything from coming up.

Your head hangs in the sink and you gasp repeatedly, hands trembling and wet and your sleeves are soaked and the man isn’t going to be happy with you. You wallow in self despair and hatred for a moment before thinking of your brother and what he means to you, and you manage to struggle to your feet. You sway where you stand but you lean heavily against the wall for support, gathering your briefcase and feeling your way pathetically into the kitchen.

You heavily debate on taking a shot or ten. Like seriously debate with yourself on the pros and cons. The latter of which amount to being dead. Dirk could move on. He lived without you for a year or so after all, hadn’t he? He’d grown so much and you were so proud of him but he deserved better. Someone that could give him a real relationship. Take him out somewhere fancy instead of holing up in your penthouse eating shitty takeout.

And to be honest, ending up in your blackmailer’s custody just to die on him sounded really, really satisfying.

You decide against it, because Dirk is one of the most important things in the world to you, and even if you would be dead you didn’t want to put him through that.

You enter the coordinates and go, shedding everything you could ever classify as dignity before pressing the button.