Do You Remember? Slainte.

Hey, do you remember that first time we met? Gods, we were such little assholes back then, though I don't think we grew up any. Damn, we used to drive every body mad with our fighting. I can't even remember the amount of times I got smacked after muttering foul curses at you under my breath.

And, do you remember, the very first time we fucked? In that shitty gym, between all the stacks of construction crap lying around. Heh, you had lube in your pocket--always prepared, right? You knocked my head so many times that I had a goddamn concussion, but I choked the shit out of you so I consider it even. I didn't pass out until after you left. I'm still so fiercely proud of that.

I remember the first time I fucked you. You pissed me off so bad that night, mocking me, taking everything out on me because I had to be the stupid one. I had to help you, give you shelter, and you hated that. I don't even remember what you were saying. I see your mouth moving, face angry and mocking, and then I'm slamming you into the wall, a hand tangled in your hair and another digging into your hip as I kissed the living daylights out of you. You pulled me down onto the bed, you wrapped your legs around mine, you wanted me to fuck you. And I did.

I don't know when we stopped being enemies and started being something...more. We still fought, all the time, but without the scorn and hatred that we used to have. Somehow, we had slipped into the routine of being friends and never noticed. Not that we ever stopped fucking--we probably wouldn't've, ever.

I've only slept with a few guys since you, and you were the best. Heh, I can practically see your cocky grin now. Goddamnit. Goddamn you, and goddamn me.

I don't think I've hurt this bad since you left the first time. I was so angry that I had let it slip, that I said "I love you", that I pushed you away. I was so mad at you for dropping me like that, after all the shit we went through. But that time you came back. That time we made up, and everything seemed alright. For a moment, it was like we could conquer the world.

Then it started. Our 'great adventure', you called it. Like every teenager's last Deep Kick before growing up, going to college, getting a job. And, sure, some of it was fun and stupid--like that time on 66? And you almost crashed when you saw those people dancing naked. And that time, with the transgender in Michigan.

But it stopped being fun. You and I started getting lost more and more, coming so close to death so many times. Like that time in Maine, where we lost two weeks but gained some pretty bad scars? Mine are still so vivid; I'll bet yours would be, too. Then that month where we were stuck only two blocks from each other, unable to meet, getting into so much shit. We were so ready to quit, to give up, to leave.

Then, like a miracle, we got a solid lead. Followed it right back to his slimy little lair. We were going to be heros, fight the good fight, and return home to just live out the rest of our lives. But it went so wrong.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I miss you so much. If I had any choice, any at all, I would never have left you. Even if that meant I would be dead over there, because at least you'd have closure. You would be able to move on.

How do I know you haven't moved on? How do I know you didn't just kill yourself, despite all the scars you had? Because I'm still here, sitting at this broken table, knocking back shot after shot of whiskey. And because I know you're doing the same thing where you are, where I should be.

I miss you so much, Vincent. Slainte.

---{{{}}}---
AN: Was feeling in a bit of a refectory mood. Kinda spoiler-y for Enemies with Benefits.

The only thing I don't own is Deep Kick, which is a Link Worshiper story inspired by the Red Hot Chili Peppers song of similar title