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Post by mickey on Feb 26, 2013 15:26:50 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px;,bTable] Today was so slow, so boring. But he supposed he liked that once in a while at work. It meant he had more time to play all the games himself rather than tending to customers. It was a weekday during school hours so the arcade was pretty much a ghost town except for Mickey working the shift alone. And that meant the House of Dead game was all his for the playing, huehue.
"Alright zombie, let's see what you've got," the man said cockily before taking a swig of his disguised vodka and setting the bottle on top of the arcade game. Large sunglasses were pushed up into messy blond hair for the moment. He couldn't have his shades ruining his game play. Grabbing the gun he tossed a few quarters into the machine and held the plastic weapon up at ready. "There's no way today you're going to eat my brain!" | ▼ |
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Post by vincent on Feb 26, 2013 21:21:00 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:500; ,bTable][atrb=valign, top] MICKEY [atrb=align, right]There was no better way to relieve stress than to play a good game, and Vincent was a great example of that. He loved to play games, although lately he hadn't the time to do so. His console had recently broke, causing him to promptly bring it to someone in order to fix it. Until then, he had been deprived of things to mess around with. That's when the idea came to him -- the arcade in the mall! He had never been there before, so it'd be a new experience for the brunette, but he wasn't opposed to that.
His apartment wasn't too far from the mall, so he decided to walk. The sun had begun to shine through the dusty clouds, suggesting that spring may be coming. Looking up briefly before shading his eyes, Vincent cursed roughly. It was bright too-- damn. The sooner he got into the dark arcade, the better.
Ducking his head into the sliding doors of the arcade, Vincent browsed in his pockets for some change. The first game his eyes lit upon was a zombie game, although it was turned away from him. He didn't know the name, but he could tell that it was a survival-type game from the zombies painted onto the back. Smiling broadly, the brunette hastily walked toward the machine, not expecting anyone to be playing, as it had been pretty quiet his entire journey here. He was sorely surprised when he got closer and heard someone mumbling. Poking his head around, his glasses low on his nose, Vincent blinked. "H-huh?" He uttered, not sure if he was seeing this right, what with the glare from the game.
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Post by mickey on Feb 26, 2013 21:22:35 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px;,bTable] As the game started Mickey found himself fully engrossed in it, shooting zombies and talking to himself. There was a large, lazy grin on his lips as red eyes jumped around from creature to creature. He was pretty accurate with the gun. But after you've played the same game for years you tend to get pretty good at it. Hastily he would pull the gun off screen to load more ammo, feet in a firm stance while he played. He didn't even notice the soft jingle of the bell above the arcade entrance when someone came in.
As a head poked around the side of the game he was just reloading, the toy gun aimed at the person's face. For a moment his eyes darted over to see a dark-skinned brunette. But he jumped back to the game, it taking several long seconds for it to register that he knew that face. That he knew the person it belongs to. As it hit him he found the gun slipping from his hands, clattering loudly against the game console as his character screeched at the attacks from zombies.
"Vince!?" It couldn't be. There was no way in hell it could be. After eight years he doubted he'd run across this guy. But eyes widened as they looked at the man by the game. No… there was no doubt. This was Vincent. Well if that didn't sober his head up a bit then he didn't know what could. His body stiffened and his eyes narrowed, a hand quickly rising to yank his sunglasses back over his face. "Vincent," he repeated in a more sour tone. "Get out of here," he growled and quickly turned on a heel to start walking away. He had no wish to be around this man. Around a figure from his dark years. | ▼ |
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Post by vincent on Feb 26, 2013 21:24:54 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:500; ,bTable][atrb=valign, top] MICKEY [atrb=align, right]He couldn't believe it. His childhood friend was not only walking out of his life, but he was doing it for the second time. Vincent's stomach dropped, his heart barrelling through his organs as he tried to calm himself. There were so many feeling that had been associated with this man, even during the eight years apart. How could he ever forget him? How could he ever FORGIVE him? Granted, Vincent has more heart to stay in the gang, even after his best friend decided to split, but that was no reason to cut him off.
The clatter of the toy gun was what brought Vincent back to reality, although the small utter of his name did so as well. His green eyes widened in disbelief, but his body reacted of its own accord as his blond friend pulled his sunglasses back over his red eyes. "Mickey, no, pleas--" He reached out, his hand grabbing Mickey's right arm as he turned to storm away. He held fast, getting jerked forward a bit with the force of Mickey's anger. Vincent didn't understand. What had he done that was so wrong?
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Post by mickey on Feb 26, 2013 21:26:39 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px;,bTable] When Mickey had left the gang, he left behind everything associated to it. Including Vincent. It had hurt to do so but when it was clear his friend wasn't going to leave with him then he knew he couldn't associate with the male anymore. He wanted literally not a shred of connection to those people anymore, wanted to start a new chapter in his life. And so he had, burning bridges as he went. But even now, eight years down the road, he believed he had made the right choice. By turning his back completely to that world it did not come looking for trouble. Or at least until now in the form of his ex-best friend.
He gave another growl as the other spoke, grabbed his arm. The grip was too tight for him to break out of, just jerking the other along as he kept storming away. He was heading toward the backroom of the arcade, a place he could slam the door and avoid Vince. If he could get the other to let go, that is. "Leave me alone Vince," he said in hostility. "I told you then and I'll tell you now, I'm done associating with your sort. So fuck off." This, this was much akin to the old Mickey. The man who walked around with a blood-stained bat in his hand and a sadistic smirk on his lips. It was a stern and vicious tone he held. A stubborn one. | ▼ |
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Post by vincent on Feb 26, 2013 21:27:14 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:500; ,bTable][atrb=valign, top] MICKEY [atrb=align, right]Vincent wasn't surprised by Mickey's outburst, as he had seen that and much worse during their younger years- but it didn't help the fact that it was directed at him. We were best friends, the brunette thought, his heart hurting as he held on tighter to the blonde's arm. What changed that? Vincent couldn't be sure where his friend was dragging him, as he didn't visit the arcade much, but it was apparent that Mickey knew where he was going. He ground his teeth in his stubbornness, refusing to let go even when his glasses came dangerously close to slipping off his thin nose.
An expression that could easily match Mickey's plastered to Vince's face, not portraying his true feelings of pain and dispair. It wasn't everyday that your best friend basically disowned you and kicked you to the curb.
"Mickey, stop being a fucking dick," Vincent snarled, his voice surprising even him. He wasn't sure what he had planned on doing if Mickey had talked to him calmly, but he knew it would be something peaceful - nothing like this. What would the pair say? What did they have to say to each other? Damn, it had been eight fucking YEARS. Vincent clung to Mickey's arm, letting him drag him to wherever he was intending on heading.
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Post by mickey on Feb 26, 2013 21:28:37 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px;,bTable] Mickey tried to shake his arm free but Vincent was clinging to it pretty tightly. Ugh, he'd have to try and forcibly get the other off then. But he couldn't do that in public, just incase someone walked into the arcade. It'd be bad for business to have kids or parents seeing him trying to shove a man off of him. So with a huff he threw open the door to the backroom and dragged them in. He didn't bother to try and find the lightswitch, the room dimly lit by the automatic lights.
At the snarl he just shot a glare over at the darker skinned man. "No! I don't want a fucking gangster around me OR my arcade," he snapped back and roughly grabbed one of Vince's arms to try and break himself free from the other. "I've done well not having you in my life all this time, I don't need you back in it again," he added as he continued to try and wrestle the other off of him. He could smell the other's cologne as he was leaned in close and it made him scowl, trying to push away memories of that smell. Of all the nights laying in bed with Vince in his arms, cherishing that scent. He had to remind himself that on those night he'd also been beating peoples brains out of their skulls. Something he didn't want to go back to. | ▼ |
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Post by vincent on Feb 26, 2013 21:29:37 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:500; ,bTable][atrb=valign, top] MICKEY [atrb=align, right]Vincent's stomach clenched as Mickey leaned in close, their scents dancing together for a moment before Vincent realized what he was smelling. Alcohol. Marijuana. Once he realized it, something inside him snapped. He couldn't help it, but the fact that his ex-best friend was doing "so good" without him by getting high and drunk was something that Vincent just couldn't handle. Snarling, he twisted Mickey's arm in his grasp, ignoring the feeble attempt the blonde had at releasing himself. "Fuck you, asshole," He snapped, throwing his weight forward onto his -- ex -- friend in his anger.
Still growing in anger, Vincent kept pushing the blonde further and further until he couldn't push him anymore. He was against the wall, his eyes wide although still angry. Nothing in Vincent cared enough to consider Mickey's feelings though. "Fuck you for everything." He spit, grabbing Mickey's wrists and slamming them against the wall above them. He jerked forward, his warm mouth metting Mickey's sour one, no movement between their stiff lips. It was a kiss the two hadn't shared in over eight years. How could there be a passion between them again?
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Post by mickey on Feb 26, 2013 21:29:47 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px;,bTable] When Vince retaliated Mickey was caught off guard. It had been years since he had legitiamtely had to rough house with another person, let alone someone close enough to him in height, weight, and strength. He gave a snarl as his arm was twisted and he was being pushed backwards. He had to step quickly so as not to lose his balance, shoulderblades ramming into the wall finally and causing him to cringe at the harsh sting. Fucking asshole. Of course he'd get violent. All gangsters did. That was part of the reason he'd left.
He tried to break away as his wrists were slammed against the wall above his head. He started to retort but before words could fall from his lips he was taken in a stiff kiss. Immediately a warmth blossomed from his mouth and over his face, the familiar touch starting to stir old passions. But he wasn't going to let that happen so easily. He wasn't going to fall for a man like Vince. Not this time. Giving a growl he tried to bite at the other male's lower lip, knee drawn up between them to try and push Vince back byhis stomach. He didn't want this. He wanted the man to just fucking leave. He wanted to keep hating him. Too continue on his life without a single reminder of his time as a murderer. But his body was already starting to cry for something else. | ▼ |
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Post by vincent on Feb 26, 2013 21:30:49 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:500; ,bTable][atrb=valign, top] MICKEY [atrb=align, right]Vincent knew that Mickey couldn't have forgotten the times they spent together so easily. His knee was brought up, and as it was, Vince clenched his legs to protect his sensitive spot from damage, but it was made apparent that the blonde male was aiming to push him via his stomach. Grunting, but not willing to break the connection between their lips, Vincent leaned forward more, moving his leg from side to side in an attempt to push Mickey's from pushing him away. He slowly moved his lips, feeling his own face warm up quite quickly, his body twitching in anticipation. It felt as if their lips were meant to be together, meshing so wonderfully and creating such beautiful feelings.
But it was obvious that Mickey was going to keep fighting. The words he had spoken earlier hit Vincent roughly. They repeated in his head, a slight echo added onto them. A gangster? That was far from the truth. Vincent had left almost immediately after Mickey, but his ex-friend never found out because he had cut ties so quickly. Moving his lips faster, trying to slowly coax Mickey into a more relaxed state, he ran the tip of his tongue against the blonde male's bottom lip, flicking it gently. Vincent could just feel the warmth of his old lover's tongue against his as they became one, their naked bodies tangling together in a heated session of rough sex. But it had been so long since the two had seen each other.
Pushing his left hand against Mickey's wrist even more, Vincent transferred the wrist in his right hand to his left, and slowly let his now free hand wander slowly over the edge of Mickey's jaw.
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Post by mickey on Feb 26, 2013 21:31:00 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px;,bTable] Vincent was being stubborn about this and Mickey didn't know why. It only pissed him off more. He didn't want to feel these feelings for the other again, he'd done so well to bury them years ago. And just like this, with a fucking rough kiss, the other was bringing them all back to surface. His body was remembering Vince's presence, his touches, the effect the darker skinned man once had on him. And it aggravated Mickey. He tried almost frantically to shove Vince off with his knee but the other male managed to wiggle it out of the way and to close the gap between them so he had no space to draw it up again.
His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, mind a jumble between his hatred and the sweet memories. He had to keep telling himself this man was no good for him. He never would be. So what if they had been best friends, so what if they had practically grown up together. Everything had been ruined, burned, the day Mickey left the gang and Vince didn't follow. He didn't want to rebuild this bridge, even if bodily passions were begging him to.
As Vince remained adamant on kissing him Mickey didn't return it, breathing quickly and deeply through his nose. His body was already starting to feel hot, being in this warm room with another body against his. Fucking damn it. As Vince's tongue ran over his lower lip he'd no doubt taste the vodka that the blonde had been sipping not even ten minutes ago.
His body jerked and stiffened as the other managed to take both of his wrists in one hand, feeling the now free hand brush over his jaw. He growled in his throat in response, trying to turn his head away from the kiss. Trying to break away from it before he would give in. | ▼ |
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Post by vincent on Feb 26, 2013 21:44:36 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:500; ,bTable][atrb=valign, top] MICKEY [atrb=align, right]The more the blond struggled, the more Vincent's heart fluttered, beating in time to the movement of his lips against Mickey's. He wouldn't, not matter how obvious it was, take no for an answer. Pushing his chest against Mickey's in a blatant attempt to immobilize him, Vincent let his right hand stroke more gently across Mickey's light skin, slowly tracing foreign patterns as his mind wandered to other, more enticing things.
This back room had been the perfect place for Mickey to lead Vincent - it was quiet, a bit dark, although a bit stuffy. There didn't seem to be any other soul in the room beside the two men, suggesting that it was some sort of off-limits type. Their kiss, however one-sided, was just the kind of kiss that deserved to be done in rooms like these.
Tensing his arms briefly, Vincent pulled away, nearly panting from the intensity of his movements against Mickey's unmoving mouth. He scowled, his lips parted as he breathe heavily, smelling awful things. "You've been drinking," Vincent stated plainly, still holding his old friend roughly against the wall, his green eyes as hard as sharpened emeralds. A sudden pang of anger tore through his upper torso, and before he knew it, his arm had pulled back and his fist had slammed into the wall next to Mickey's head. Dismayed by the state of his "happy" companion, Vincent lowered his head, not knowing what to say. How could he? This was the "happiest" Mickey had ever been, without Vincent in his life. But he was drunk, high, or otherwise unhappy. "I can't believe you right now. You're nothing better than myself." He spat, his forehead almost touching Mickey's shoulder.
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Post by mickey on Feb 26, 2013 22:11:58 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px;,bTable] As Vince continued to kiss him it took all of Mickey's hatred and all of his strength to stay adamant. Don't give in. You can't give in. You're not supposed to let him back into your life Mickey, he told himself repeatedly in his mind. The hand stroking his skin made his shiver and he hated that, he loathed the fact the other man could even get that out of him. For once he wished he was completely sober. Then Vince wouldn't dare be coming around. Not even to poke the beast with a ten foot pole. But alas he was under the intoxication of alcohol and weed, the beast inside only in a groggy state.
As Vince finally broke the kiss Mickey was panting through open lips. His mouth felt a bit swollen from the roughness of the kiss and he mirrored the dark-skinned man's scowl. At the statement he scoffed. That was a no brainer. He fucking drank every day. Vince didn't even want to see how full his recycle bin at home was with empty vodka, tequila, and whiskey bottles. Fuck light shit like beer, when he hit it he hid it hard. "No shit sherlock," he hissed out.
Seeing a fist fly through the air he instinctively turned his head further away and clenched his jaw, fully expecting to be hit. Instead it landed in the wall next to his head. Hmph, guess Vince wasn't as tough as he used to be. Straightening his head again he glared past his sunglasses, lip curled up in a sneer when he was told he wasn't any better than the other. "No better than you? At least I'm only messing with my life, not the lives of other people," he said coldly and tried to push at the other man off of him by throwing his weight forward. He had no momentum to do to though, being against this wall, so the effort was weak. | ▼ |
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Post by vincent on Feb 26, 2013 22:24:08 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:500; ,bTable][atrb=valign, top] MICKEY [atrb=align, right]The words stung, no matter how much Vincent told himself that he friend was just being an asshole to push him away - and besides, Mickey was drunk, or at least intoxicated slightly. The brunette twisted his fist, rubbing his raw knuckles against the paint of the wall behind Mickey's light hair, resisting the urge to brush it gently out of his face. That was something he had done often, years ago before everything had gone to shit. Keeping his scowl steady, Vincent spit on the floor, more angry than ever. "Don't act like you know me," He snarled, putting more force into the wall.
Before he could even think, Vincent's arms responded to the feel of Mickey pushing up against his waist. He released the wrists above his old friend, instead preferring to curl each arm around the man's waist. The brunette allowed his arms to hang lazily off his ex-lover's hips, blind to the moment around him. All he could feel was the past. It made his heart race and his eyelashes flutter briefly. "I wish you knew me like you did," He whispered, his eyes closed as he leaned in slowly for another, more gentle kiss. He didn't care if Mickey responded to this on or not - if he didn't, Vincent wasn't sure what he would do next.
Tightening his arms protectively around the other man, Vincent found himself subconsciously counting the beats of the blonds heart, somehow able to feel the beat by just cradling his sides. He wanted to nuzzle into his partner's neck, coo against the light skin that once belonged to him.
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Post by mickey on Feb 26, 2013 22:52:38 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px;,bTable] Mickey focused all of his hate into glaring at the other man, hearing the grinding of knuckles against the wall beside his ear. He conned to scowl, even as the other spat on the floor. The words just pissed him off more. Don't act like he didn't know Vince? If the other was still in the gang then he was pretty damn sure he knew what the other was like! Shit never changed in a group like that. So, so long as Vincent was with those thugs then Mickey knew what he was like. And hated him for it.
He was ready to continue to struggle, to continue to swap hateful comments. But suddenly it seemed Vincent's disposition changed and he was releasing his wrists in exchange for hugging his waist. Mickey wasn't sure what to think of this, hands instinctively going to firmly grip Vince's shoulders in a readiness to shove him off. But he found himself hesitating, seeing the change of expression on the other man's face. The words caused a color of pink to dust over his cheeks. What the fuck was the other saying? Wished he knew him like he did before?
He stood still for a moment, hands still on the other's shoulders as Vince moved in to kiss him. It wasn't angry or rough, but gentle. Like they shared once upon a time. He felt something in himself warm, his heart skipping a beat. Before he could tell himself 'no' he was leaning into the kiss, body chasing after old feelings. Feelings he hadn't felt in nearly a decade. | ▼ |
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