Vic Gimmehead

Hi I mostly go by V, or Viola. You can also call me Vic, or come up with your own nickname for me. I've been called: Violin, Vi, Viol, Villis, Oa I won't be disclosing my age.

HUUUGE Metallica, Megadeth, and Shock Tilt fan. I really like Metallica and Megadeth. I'm a guitarist. I write fanfiction. I write smut, fluff, angst and neutral texts/fics. But yeah I also edit and here are my public socials; Tiktok: @Poor Twisted V or @poortwistededitor.inc Snapchat: Violakicksyoass

Dave is heartbroken over Cliffs death and... Yeah.

“You're like my best buddy ever, Junior!”

Grinning and reeking of cheap alcohol was Dave, his arm slung around his dearest friend.

“Let's do another shot, huh?” Dave's gaze was intently locked onto Junior's. Eyes glistening with alcohol and unshed tears.

“Dave, man, I don't kn-”

“Don't be a puss, c'mon Junior! Please! One for me. One for me, and you…And all the fame we're going to achieve! Just imagine. We'll have so much fucking money. And girls! You know! Chicks, money, and all the booze in the world. Can you imagine it!?”

Dave's eyelids were growing heavy and he was already swaying on his feet. He was grinning widely. But Junior knew it wasn't pure.

Reluctantly Junior took another shot, he was doing it for Dave. Partly for himself but mostly for Dave.

It was a somber sight. Dave, drunk out of his mind, but not drunk like usual. This wasn't being drunk to have fun, this was being drunk to cope.

Dave's hand instinctively reached for the bottle again. But this time, Junior got to it first, wrapping his hand around the ginger's wrist. He held Dave in a tight grip.

Dave's lower lip twitched, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, his head shaking slowly back and forth, tears forming in his eyes. But he wasn't fighting Junior.

“Dave… taking another shot won't bring him back. You know that. Alcohol will numb the pain but it won't make it go away.”

Dave couldn't meet Junior's eyes. It was too painful. He knew Junior was right. And he hated that. He hated the world because Junior was right. He wasn't coming back. Cliff was gone forever. Dave didn't even get to say goodbye.

Dave stumbled again, catching himself on Junior's shoulder. Tears started spilling over. Dave hadn't cried like this in a long time. Too long.

Junior wrapped his arms around Dave, steadying him. Dave hugged back tighter and held him…

But then Dave's grip started loosening.

“It's all going to be fine, you'll see.” Junior reassured Dave.

Dave didn't answer at first.

A cold, deafening silence. Dave's breaths were shallow and slow.

“Dave?”

“Junior, man, it's getting dark…”

“What? No it's… it's the same lighting that it has been the whole evening.” Junior looked around, nothing had changed.

“It's… it's all blurry… And dark… I'm scared, Junior.”

Dave's knees weakened and he dropped to the ground. He was close to being unconscious. Junior quickly got Dave's head in his lap. Something was wrong. Really fucking wrong.

“Dave, what's up? You didn't even drink that much. I-... Did you take anything else? I don't get it. You're not usually like this.”

“It's cold… It's so cold… hold me, Junior. Please… I'm scared… I want my mom…” Dave was sobbing quietly. His breathing uneven and light. A drop of saliva dripping down onto the floor from the corner of his mouth.

Junior tried shaking him.

“Dave come on, quit it. We'll get you all better. I'll call someone. I'm gonna get you some help.”

Dave reached out grasping for his best friend.

“no- don't leave me, please… ‘don't want to be alone…”

Junior just gave him a slight smile.

“I need to get you help, just a few seconds, okay?”

His feet were wobbly too from the alcohol and he was stumbling to the telephone. It rang for about 4 seconds before someone answered.

“hello, 911, what's your emergency?”

Junior rambled on about Dave and the drinking and the possibilities of other substances and grief and symptoms.

As soon as the call was over Junior made his way back to Dave.

Dave only looked worse. Paler. He was cold. Too cold. The room felt quiet. Top quiet.

“Junior, you're my best friend forever. You know that..?” Dave giggled weakly.

“Hey, man just uh. Just hang in there.”

“Junior. It's warm. It's warm and nice. It feels so good. Better than any booze we've ever had… *hic* you should really try it… ‘Love you, Junior.” Dave's eyes grew distant. And he went unresponsive.

“Dave?? DAVE!...” The sound of sirens grew louder. But Dave didn't need to hear it.

Months later Dave is but a memory. Someone who once was. A was and not and is. Junior blames himself. There's no need for the nickname anymore, there is no other Dave, but he kept it. He still hates it, but not as much.

“That's a… pretty nice stone, Dave. It's cool. I brought you uh… I brought you whiskey. You and Cliff can… drink it together… just… tell me how it is there, wherever you are, someday. I'll be waiting. I hope you'll wait for me too.”

It sucks, I know, but hey, it was late.

I was so bored last night and wrote this at 3am. I have had this idea for months.