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Only Insane For Now
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
859
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
859
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Only Insane For Now
This is a companion piece to Tender Hearts, and explains a lot. It’s Rob’s story, and takes place before, during, and after Tender Hearts.
---
The TV was blaring a trashy rock song, and a phantasmagoric spay of naked zombies crawled towards the last remaining humans alive. As the woman screamed, zombies ripping her shirt away, Robert Jenkins stuffed the last handful of over-buttered popcorn into his mouth, eyes rapt on the flashing screen. When Thomas, his younger brother, reached for some of it and his fingers touched only cool glass, he scoffed and punched Robert on the arm. The woman’s arms were ripped off, and the credits began to roll.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Rob screamed, jumping hastily to his feet. “That’s ridiculous! What a stupid ending!”
“Robbie, shut up and move your fat fucking head, dude,” Jason laughed from behind him on the couch, shoving his socked foot at said head.
Robert moved slightly to the left, grumbling about shitty endings and stupid smelly feet on his goddamned couch, while Tom stalked off to the kitchen in a valiant quest for more buttery goodness. Jillian stretched his lanky limbs and stood from the plaid couch, sifting through the sprawl of movies laid at his feet.
“So what’s next guys, Night of the Living Fucked or Underworld?”
“Holy shit,” Jason laughed, “Night of the Living Fucked?”
“Yeah,” Jillian murmured, “ It’s like the softcore porn version of the 1980’s version, kind of exciting huh? Zombie sex, yum.” He grinned suddenly, turning to Rob, only to find the host missing from the party.
“Hey Robbie!” Jason screamed towards the kitchen. “Zombies Fucking or Vampires Fucking?”
“Zombie sex?”
Thomas rushed back into the room, the sounds of popping coming from the kitchen down the hallway behind him. “Goddamnit Jillian, that’s MINE!!!” He hastily snatched the offending DVD from the laughing boy, smacking him for added measure. “I thought I told you to lay off my porn collection?”
Robert padded back in, munching on the new bowl of popcorn, smiling. “Actually, I’m pretty interested in that one. Who cares about chicks in spandex? Let’s watch it some zombies having hardcore sex.” His grin turned devious, and he traded off the popcorn for the DVD, chuckling madly while he put it in.
Life was always like this at the Jenkins household ever since they had moved into town from up in New York, which they had lived in for only a few months. Originally from England, the two brothers had integrated well with the local neighborhood guys. There was always at least one or two of the boys’ friends strutting around the house, and sometimes one of Thomas’s slutty girls could also be found re-applying her skagliner in the restroom or sucking Tom’s dick in the upstairs room.
The boys would wrestle around, watch porn and gore movies, talk about hot girls at school, or have massive food fights. So long as the house was clean before the boys’ mother arrived home, no harm was ever done.
Sometimes, she would be off on a business trip and the boys would party, calling over other girls and guys. But it was always the most fun when it was just the four of them, and they would melt their brains with b-grade horror films and guro porn while chatting about nothing and drinking cold beer after cold beer.
Robert snapped open the tab to the can of beer, quickly guzzling half of it before his ass even hit the couch. Jason giggled and shoved him over with his shoulder, causing Rob to burp long and loud. Thomas gave a loud ‘Bloody rude!’ from the downstairs restroom, where he’d left the door open and jumped into the shower, not wanting to watch the porn he’d seen a thousand times before.
The boys snuggled into their respective seats and watched zombies raping humans for over an hour.
---
“Hey!” Tom yelled over the sounds of video game gunfire. “Arsehole! Dinner!”
When he said dinner, it sounded like ‘dinna’, a trait picked up from both the Brooklyn area and jolly good England. They’d lost most of their accent along the way, but it was still heavy enough to notice.
And when Robert screamed back ‘Alright, fuckhead’, it sounded more like ‘awright, fuck ‘ead’.
The boys didn’t look much alike. Thomas had bulky muscles from playing football at school, and constantly tousled golden brown hair that fell into bright blue eyes. Robert, however, had lanky platinum blond hair that swung to his shoulders, which he usually tied back. You could hardly ever see his eyes, which were a blue so dark it was almost black, on account of his long bangs. He was thin, with pianist hands. He always wore button-up shirts and loose jeans, while Thomas wore tight polos and cut-offs. He was an artist, and Thomas was a jock.
Robert pushed the thick bangs from his eyes and stared at the screen, pressing buttons like there was no tomorrow. “C’mon, c’mon!” he muttered, biting his lip and slamming the controller ferociously. Right as he was shot in the back by a comrade (friendly fire, those assholes), two loud bangs rang from upstairs.
With a start, Robert turned the television down, padding to the stairs in his socks. There were no more sounds for a minute, and then another loud bang and a feminine screech.
Robert grabbed a metal bat and ran up the stairs. He may have looked weak, but he went to the gym with his brother all the time- he could handle himself if there was an intruder.
The only thing he could think was that his mum and brother were up there.
The door was open, that was the first thing he noticed. Next, there were the shuffling sounds from the den, where the TV was playing the opening tune for Jeopardy. His mum loved that show.
His heart pounded in his ears, making him feel dizzy. The bat was hoisted on his shoulder, ready to swing.
Dragging, a wet splat, then nothing.
Robert rounded the corner from the hall to the den, his stomach clenched. A metallic smell filled his nose, almost gagging him. It was meaty, coppery, disgusting. He gagged, stomach acid rising- he swallowed it reflexively, throat burning and eyes watering.
There was a man in the den. Spiky brown hair, thick build, shotgun held in one meaty hand. He was covered in blood, and arranging a body on the floor in front of the TV.
Thomas.
The boy’s neck had been blown almost completely in half, small bits of meat and spine peeking out of the red mess. His side was bleeding heavily, intestines spilled on the floor. There was a smell of shit in the room.
Then, he saw his mother.
Her head was blown to bits, her face just unrecognizable mush. Half of her skull formed a sort of bowl for the brains that threatened to spill over her cheekbone. Half her jaw hung to the chest, tongue lolling out huge and purple. The wall behind her was almost completely red with blood. A brown eyeball was rolling on the carpet at her feet.
He couldn’t help it. He puked.
The man turned from the body to look at him, beady eyes narrowing. Robert instantly recognized the man as his father, an abusive man that his mother had fled England to escape.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The man raised the gun, pumped-
As soon as Robert felt the pain in his arm and neck, he ran. The man was pumping and shooting behind him, but as soon as Rob shut and locked the door to his basement room, he heard a loud curse. The man was out of bullets!
Heart flying and mind on auto-pilot, Robert stomped down the stairs to lock the window. He placed a huge book in front of it, ignoring the clomping upstairs and the sound of a door opening. When he was done, he dove under his bed, pulling the dust ruffle back down to cover him.
He lay there shivering for the rest of the night.
---
The man was gone. He could see light just barely peeking under the edge of his bed. He tasted blood and stomach acid. He kept his hand over the gaping wound in his arm. It had stopped bleeding only a few hours ago.
---
When he woke up, he felt the pain in his stomach. His eyes were dry, his lips cracked and bleeding. There was brief humiliation when he wet his pants, but he refused to leave the safety of underneath his bed.
He slept again.
---
He’d found a couple of maggots in the wound, and eaten them. He dug his fingers into it, made it bleed again to make sure there were no more. When he couldn’t fall asleep, he beat his head against the floor until he finally blacked out.
---
He spent the next day screaming for help. He’d forgotten is room was soundproof. No one came to help. Images of his dead mother and brother flashed in his aching brain.
---
It seemed like years had passed when they finally came. They shined bright lights into his eyes, asked him his name. He screamed, backing into the furthest corner under the bed.
They left.
When the men in white came, he was still screaming, beginning to bleed from his arm again, and hyperventilating. They pulled him from under the bed, accidentally breaking his already injured arm and causing him to scream even louder, thrashing as they finally got him to the stairs.
He screamed and screamed, even as they pulled him up the stairs, dragged him to his feet, and forced him out the front door. He screeched even louder, voice cracking and coughing blood, when the light hit him. He was dragged into a huge van, into a straightjacket as his voice finally gave out. He caught a glimpse of Jason and Jessica crying in the crowd before a needle was shoved into his good arm, and he was knocked out.
---
He woke up in a bright white room, his eyes feeling heavy and puffed up. There was an IV in his elbow, and he gave a weak struggle before noticing he was latched to the hospital bed with leather straps. He was naked under the thin sheet, but most importantly clean. His mind was blank, and he stared ahead at the stucco’d ceiling.
His head hurt. His arm hurt. His heart… was it even beating?
Ah, yes, a muffled thump, sluggish in his ribs. So at least he was still alive.
---
When they moved him to the mental hospital, he struggled with a wide open mouth and teary eyes, trying with a broken arm and half-starved muscles to escape. They held him under the armpits, took his prints, drew blood, and gave him pills. He was dressed in seafoam green hospital attire, consoled by an overweight nurse, and put to sleep with some pills.
He awoke alone, cold, and in an uncomfortable bed. He pulled the scratchy blanket up to his chin and curled onto his side, his eyes burning and a pressure deep in his throat.
There was no window in his room.
---
Yaaaaaay, first bit done! Interested? I hope so! Chapter one will be longer, and up tomorrow. Reviews would be nice!
---
The TV was blaring a trashy rock song, and a phantasmagoric spay of naked zombies crawled towards the last remaining humans alive. As the woman screamed, zombies ripping her shirt away, Robert Jenkins stuffed the last handful of over-buttered popcorn into his mouth, eyes rapt on the flashing screen. When Thomas, his younger brother, reached for some of it and his fingers touched only cool glass, he scoffed and punched Robert on the arm. The woman’s arms were ripped off, and the credits began to roll.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Rob screamed, jumping hastily to his feet. “That’s ridiculous! What a stupid ending!”
“Robbie, shut up and move your fat fucking head, dude,” Jason laughed from behind him on the couch, shoving his socked foot at said head.
Robert moved slightly to the left, grumbling about shitty endings and stupid smelly feet on his goddamned couch, while Tom stalked off to the kitchen in a valiant quest for more buttery goodness. Jillian stretched his lanky limbs and stood from the plaid couch, sifting through the sprawl of movies laid at his feet.
“So what’s next guys, Night of the Living Fucked or Underworld?”
“Holy shit,” Jason laughed, “Night of the Living Fucked?”
“Yeah,” Jillian murmured, “ It’s like the softcore porn version of the 1980’s version, kind of exciting huh? Zombie sex, yum.” He grinned suddenly, turning to Rob, only to find the host missing from the party.
“Hey Robbie!” Jason screamed towards the kitchen. “Zombies Fucking or Vampires Fucking?”
“Zombie sex?”
Thomas rushed back into the room, the sounds of popping coming from the kitchen down the hallway behind him. “Goddamnit Jillian, that’s MINE!!!” He hastily snatched the offending DVD from the laughing boy, smacking him for added measure. “I thought I told you to lay off my porn collection?”
Robert padded back in, munching on the new bowl of popcorn, smiling. “Actually, I’m pretty interested in that one. Who cares about chicks in spandex? Let’s watch it some zombies having hardcore sex.” His grin turned devious, and he traded off the popcorn for the DVD, chuckling madly while he put it in.
Life was always like this at the Jenkins household ever since they had moved into town from up in New York, which they had lived in for only a few months. Originally from England, the two brothers had integrated well with the local neighborhood guys. There was always at least one or two of the boys’ friends strutting around the house, and sometimes one of Thomas’s slutty girls could also be found re-applying her skagliner in the restroom or sucking Tom’s dick in the upstairs room.
The boys would wrestle around, watch porn and gore movies, talk about hot girls at school, or have massive food fights. So long as the house was clean before the boys’ mother arrived home, no harm was ever done.
Sometimes, she would be off on a business trip and the boys would party, calling over other girls and guys. But it was always the most fun when it was just the four of them, and they would melt their brains with b-grade horror films and guro porn while chatting about nothing and drinking cold beer after cold beer.
Robert snapped open the tab to the can of beer, quickly guzzling half of it before his ass even hit the couch. Jason giggled and shoved him over with his shoulder, causing Rob to burp long and loud. Thomas gave a loud ‘Bloody rude!’ from the downstairs restroom, where he’d left the door open and jumped into the shower, not wanting to watch the porn he’d seen a thousand times before.
The boys snuggled into their respective seats and watched zombies raping humans for over an hour.
---
“Hey!” Tom yelled over the sounds of video game gunfire. “Arsehole! Dinner!”
When he said dinner, it sounded like ‘dinna’, a trait picked up from both the Brooklyn area and jolly good England. They’d lost most of their accent along the way, but it was still heavy enough to notice.
And when Robert screamed back ‘Alright, fuckhead’, it sounded more like ‘awright, fuck ‘ead’.
The boys didn’t look much alike. Thomas had bulky muscles from playing football at school, and constantly tousled golden brown hair that fell into bright blue eyes. Robert, however, had lanky platinum blond hair that swung to his shoulders, which he usually tied back. You could hardly ever see his eyes, which were a blue so dark it was almost black, on account of his long bangs. He was thin, with pianist hands. He always wore button-up shirts and loose jeans, while Thomas wore tight polos and cut-offs. He was an artist, and Thomas was a jock.
Robert pushed the thick bangs from his eyes and stared at the screen, pressing buttons like there was no tomorrow. “C’mon, c’mon!” he muttered, biting his lip and slamming the controller ferociously. Right as he was shot in the back by a comrade (friendly fire, those assholes), two loud bangs rang from upstairs.
With a start, Robert turned the television down, padding to the stairs in his socks. There were no more sounds for a minute, and then another loud bang and a feminine screech.
Robert grabbed a metal bat and ran up the stairs. He may have looked weak, but he went to the gym with his brother all the time- he could handle himself if there was an intruder.
The only thing he could think was that his mum and brother were up there.
The door was open, that was the first thing he noticed. Next, there were the shuffling sounds from the den, where the TV was playing the opening tune for Jeopardy. His mum loved that show.
His heart pounded in his ears, making him feel dizzy. The bat was hoisted on his shoulder, ready to swing.
Dragging, a wet splat, then nothing.
Robert rounded the corner from the hall to the den, his stomach clenched. A metallic smell filled his nose, almost gagging him. It was meaty, coppery, disgusting. He gagged, stomach acid rising- he swallowed it reflexively, throat burning and eyes watering.
There was a man in the den. Spiky brown hair, thick build, shotgun held in one meaty hand. He was covered in blood, and arranging a body on the floor in front of the TV.
Thomas.
The boy’s neck had been blown almost completely in half, small bits of meat and spine peeking out of the red mess. His side was bleeding heavily, intestines spilled on the floor. There was a smell of shit in the room.
Then, he saw his mother.
Her head was blown to bits, her face just unrecognizable mush. Half of her skull formed a sort of bowl for the brains that threatened to spill over her cheekbone. Half her jaw hung to the chest, tongue lolling out huge and purple. The wall behind her was almost completely red with blood. A brown eyeball was rolling on the carpet at her feet.
He couldn’t help it. He puked.
The man turned from the body to look at him, beady eyes narrowing. Robert instantly recognized the man as his father, an abusive man that his mother had fled England to escape.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The man raised the gun, pumped-
As soon as Robert felt the pain in his arm and neck, he ran. The man was pumping and shooting behind him, but as soon as Rob shut and locked the door to his basement room, he heard a loud curse. The man was out of bullets!
Heart flying and mind on auto-pilot, Robert stomped down the stairs to lock the window. He placed a huge book in front of it, ignoring the clomping upstairs and the sound of a door opening. When he was done, he dove under his bed, pulling the dust ruffle back down to cover him.
He lay there shivering for the rest of the night.
---
The man was gone. He could see light just barely peeking under the edge of his bed. He tasted blood and stomach acid. He kept his hand over the gaping wound in his arm. It had stopped bleeding only a few hours ago.
---
When he woke up, he felt the pain in his stomach. His eyes were dry, his lips cracked and bleeding. There was brief humiliation when he wet his pants, but he refused to leave the safety of underneath his bed.
He slept again.
---
He’d found a couple of maggots in the wound, and eaten them. He dug his fingers into it, made it bleed again to make sure there were no more. When he couldn’t fall asleep, he beat his head against the floor until he finally blacked out.
---
He spent the next day screaming for help. He’d forgotten is room was soundproof. No one came to help. Images of his dead mother and brother flashed in his aching brain.
---
It seemed like years had passed when they finally came. They shined bright lights into his eyes, asked him his name. He screamed, backing into the furthest corner under the bed.
They left.
When the men in white came, he was still screaming, beginning to bleed from his arm again, and hyperventilating. They pulled him from under the bed, accidentally breaking his already injured arm and causing him to scream even louder, thrashing as they finally got him to the stairs.
He screamed and screamed, even as they pulled him up the stairs, dragged him to his feet, and forced him out the front door. He screeched even louder, voice cracking and coughing blood, when the light hit him. He was dragged into a huge van, into a straightjacket as his voice finally gave out. He caught a glimpse of Jason and Jessica crying in the crowd before a needle was shoved into his good arm, and he was knocked out.
---
He woke up in a bright white room, his eyes feeling heavy and puffed up. There was an IV in his elbow, and he gave a weak struggle before noticing he was latched to the hospital bed with leather straps. He was naked under the thin sheet, but most importantly clean. His mind was blank, and he stared ahead at the stucco’d ceiling.
His head hurt. His arm hurt. His heart… was it even beating?
Ah, yes, a muffled thump, sluggish in his ribs. So at least he was still alive.
---
When they moved him to the mental hospital, he struggled with a wide open mouth and teary eyes, trying with a broken arm and half-starved muscles to escape. They held him under the armpits, took his prints, drew blood, and gave him pills. He was dressed in seafoam green hospital attire, consoled by an overweight nurse, and put to sleep with some pills.
He awoke alone, cold, and in an uncomfortable bed. He pulled the scratchy blanket up to his chin and curled onto his side, his eyes burning and a pressure deep in his throat.
There was no window in his room.
---
Yaaaaaay, first bit done! Interested? I hope so! Chapter one will be longer, and up tomorrow. Reviews would be nice!