hardlydead | (( them gods gonna hurt you son; when you play with a loaded gun ))

[ evan doesn't take off his jacket. he's not about to show off the bruises any more than he has to. he watches david instead, intent, waiting to see a weapon. there isn't one. but david wouldn't bring a weapon to this. neither one of them would, or ever has. the worst they've done is brass knuckles, and even those weren't good enough. they need to feel each other's blood and bones. need to know what they're doing.

he watches, tense and rigid, ignoring the way everything hurts, the way his shoulder is already aching in anticipation of what's going to come next, when david charges.

evan wants to duck the blow but doesn't. he catches david, stumbles back even as he locks a vicelike grip around his wrists, can't keep his balance, and hits the floor. on his back. his father's words rip through his skull like a bullet. ]

[ it'd be a lie to say it didn't occur to david to bring a knife. hell, bring a gun and just be done with this whole fucking song and dance. but it's not gonna be like that, not for evan. it's always been hands on with them, and that's how he deserves to go out. ]

[ david feels that grab all the way up his arms, up to his shoulders like evan's trying to yank them out of their sockets, which isn't helped any by the pull when evan falls. david grimaces, grits his teeth on a grunt of pain when he lands. it's blinding for a second, almost makes him wonder if one or several of his ribs didn't just break, but there's an opportunity and david has to take it. ]

[ it takes some scrambling, at least one pained noise he's not too proud of, but david hurries to right himself to get up and straddle evan. tries to take the moment to get his hands around evan's throat and squeeze. ]

[ he tries to kick david off him, knee him in the groin or stomach - someplace sensitive, someplace with bruises. but it doesn't work, and after a few seconds david's straddling him, on him, hands around his throat -

returning the favor.

evan strains his neck instantly, as if that's going to make a difference, and slashes at david's face with his free hands. punching, clawing, unwilling to let david strangle him here and now, because all david has to do is lean forward to get the pressure evan had to use his entire body to get before. he bucks, tries to leverage them both over. aims more than a few punches at kidneys that have to still be aching.

and all the while it's not as strong as it should be, because he fucked up, he's furious, he's injured. he can see this ending. he'll be thrown out. forgotten. david will swan back home and get all the favor, all the adoration, and if his father tries to get revenge it'll be some rote bullshit just out of appearances and nobody will really care. not one single person. the only person who'll even remember him will be the man about to kill him.

just david fucking king. ]

[ he can't put enough strength into it. ]

[ it's not even the blows that stop him, though those fucking hurt and it shows. even as he leans forward, puts his weight down on his hands, he can't hold a grip around evan's neck that'll do more than hurt. his arms are trembling, struggling to hold him up, his torso feels like it's on fire. ]

[ and david's snarling, staring down at evan in frustration, in a wild rage as he leans harder, trying to make each breath the last one he'll ever take and failing. fucking failing. one hand slips off evan to the ground and david swears harshly. the one fucking thing he's good for and he can't even do that. ]

[ evan's not choking, but it's hard to breathe. and he doesn't want a bruise around his neck when he comes back. he doesn't want questions, he wants to walk back home without a word or anyone looking at him twice.

david starts to slip, and that's all he needs to throw everything he has into trying to flip them. trying to get on top. his shoulder's screaming at him, something's busted in there for sure, but he only groans and keeps trying to get on top. has to. has to prove what he can do. he can't strangle david again, but maybe he can smash his face in so bad he can't breathe. ]

Get - down -

[ evan's trying to throw him off, turn them over, but david refuses with just about everything he's got. through the bucking and the hits, he can't let evan on top of him again. he won't. ]

Fuck you.

[ he takes his other hand off evan's neck to try and grab one of his arms to pin it, tries to shift his weight to plant himself more solidly. it's not a great position but it's something, right? has to be. he'll figure it out. ]

[ the upside of fighting david is that he's as strong as evan and doesn't go down easy. the downside of fighting david is exactly the same thing. he's not afraid. he can't be cowed into giving in. he never will, and evan's used to people giving up fast if they aren't david.

so as hard as it is to fight back, he can't stop david from getting one wrist in a grip, pinning it like he couldn't throttle him. he's still got a hand free, though, and he tries to smash that fist into david's face as he plants his feet hard on the floor and shoves up. trying yet again to throw david off him, or over him. whatever needs to be done to get the upper hand again. ]

[ david pushes himself upright, letting go of that wrist as he does, just enough so he can swing down at evan's face. slam his fists into it. ]

[ but unfortunately he does it at the same time evan shoves and he's not ready for it, ends up getting lamped in the face as his body's thrown forward and it annoys him as much as it hurts. ]

[ under normal circumstances he could probably take it no problem, just shift forward over evan so he can't dislodge him, but right now he feels that shove as a jolt of pain up his back. even the way he tries to squeeze his knees at evan's sides doesn't do much to keep him stable as his body tips forward at an odd angle and david throws his hands out to try and keep himself up. still on top of evan, barely, but not for much longer he suspects. ]

[ the hit rattles his already rattled skull. the only comfort is in feeling his own fist plow into david's face.

but that's about the best he can do, right now. he feels david fall forward, barely holding himself up. it'd be the perfect opportunity to hurl him off, chase him down even if he has to crawl, pin him down, beat him to a pulp. but everything's still so sore that he just can't get himself to do it.

evan glares up at david, blood at his mouth from where his teeth cut his lip, eyes gleaming with unadulterated hatred. he needs - a second. just a few seconds. to get his focus and strength back. enough to get david's legs off him, his whole body. if someone saw them, he thinks - ]

You're doin' shit.

[ despite the anger that feels like it's flooding his whole body — at evan, at himself, at this absurd fucking situation — something about what evan says makes him laugh. it comes out as a rush of breath, a little wheezy, and he presses his lips together to hold in the cough at the tail end of it as he looks down at evan. ]

You ain't doin' any better.

[ he tries to push himself up again, walk his hands back, anything, but it just doesn't happen. keeping himself up like this is about all he can do, and even that feels like pushing it right now. his shoulders are burning, his ribs too are pulsing in hot, angry pain. ]

[ this might have been a bad idea. ]

[ the laugh is infuriating, but there's not much he can do about it now. he's pinned, but david's got no leverage, either. one wrong move and they're both out of luck. neither one of them has the strength to keep this up. it was stupid. stupid and angry. story of his fucking life.

it does mean he won't have to hide the body, though. or risk getting kicked out, demoted, causing disappointment. as long as nobody finds out that he didn't manage to pull it off, anyway. but who would have followed him? injured as he is - even if people didn't know the full extent of it - he can't get up to much trouble. ]

Get off me.

[ there's less anger in it than he intends, but his whole torso wants to give up and collapse at this point. it's hard to get the fury into his voice when his lungs can barely get enough air to start with. ]

[ david hesitates, but ultimately he can't hold this much longer. david grits his teeth and pushes himself just enough to roll off evan, landing on his back next to him with a grunt. ]

[ he doesn't even have anything to say for the moment, just thinking about how stupid and embarrassing this is, taking a chance that evan's too fucked up to do anything just yet. ]

[ it's the opportunity he needs. evan tells himself to sit up, to turn, to deliver a killing blow to david. a punch to the throat that snaps the windpipe. a hard enough hit to shatter his skull and drive the pieces into his brain. one final hit to the ribs that makes the broken bone fragments puncture his lungs.

he tenses, but he can't do it. his shoulders are on fire. his own ribs feel like they're about to break into pieces. he manages to push himself up about six inches, then hits the ground again, feeling pathetic. weak. useless.

this was such a stupid idea. ]

Your old man happy about all that?

[ it's an idle, exhausted question. he wants to get mad again so he can beat david up. wants to let the rage overpower the pain. maybe hearing about how david got rewarded for fighting him will do the trick. ]

[ that gets another laugh out of him. it's not hard or loud, but it makes david clutch his ribs with a groan regardless at the pain that spikes. ]

Think he called it shameful, actually.

[ david says it like it's a joke, but the way he stares up at nothing in particular is vacant, tired. he did what he was supposed to, and all he got was his father's disappointment and a month of recovery. ]

[ well, a month plus whatever this adds to it. what a stupid idea. ]

Yours?

[ his old man must've loved it, right? king's son dragged away bloodied and bruised? hilarious. ]

[ evan's silent for a while, surprised by david's response, unsure what to say next. he could lie, but he's never been good at that. besides, it'll be obvious if he manages to pull it off and later someone else brings up the truth.

both of them got shot down for their efforts. just like both of them got handed stupid assignments like they were children. ]

Same thing.

[ he doesn't mention the direct insults. the fact that david got him on his back again. at least this time nobody could see it. ]

What a shitty thing to have in common.

[ david says it with a sigh, still staring blankly upward. nothing's ever good enough. do what they want, do as you're told, somehow it's still disappointing. as if a single ounce of pride would make the world come crashing down. ]

[ christ, no wonder they're alike in all the worst ways. what a chilling thought. ]

[ he doesn't like hearing that. especially because it's true.

evan tries to push himself up again and manages to get into a sitting position, but that's about it. he looks at his hands, the bruised and bloodied knuckles where all the scabs split open while they brawled again. ]

Guess we aren't better than this.

[ david doesn't move, but he does turn his head to look at evan with a frown. he has to be better than this. after everything he's done? all the shit he's given up? and he's just a glorified thug? ]

[ god that's depressing. he's quiet for a long few moments, trying not to get stuck on the miserable reality of his situation. ]

You wanna get a drink?

[ he glares at david after the silence breaks, uncertain what kind of offer that is. if it's genuine or if he's going to try and break evan's neck as soon as he stands up. or try to poison him. or drink him under the table - david may be the only person alive who can - and then let him die there from alcohol poisoning or something stupider.

or maybe it's just an offer, considering the hollow realization they both just had. ]

Yeah. Sure.

[ standing is... not easy. not only does it feel like every inch of him hurts and is angry about it, but laying on the floor that much made him stiffen up too. david sits up carefully, and then groans in complaint as he slowly gets to his feet. has to take a moment to just stare at his hoodie where it landed on the floor before he can make himself bend over to pick it up. ]

Place down the street alright?

[ truthfully, he hadn't been expecting evan to say yes, but far be it from david to back out when drinking's involved. especially as fucking miserable as he feels right now. as they both probably feel. ]

[ at least they don't have to go far, if evan's up for it. there's a place nearby that used to be linked to the brewery before it shut down, it's still open, he thinks. nothing fancy, probably kinda rundown at this point actually. ]

[ evan gets up when david does, trying not to make any sounds of outright pain like he wants to. he just about manages it, though the sigh he lets out when he finishes suggests it was a lot more difficult than he let on. everything in him wanted to stay down, on the cold floor that was almost easing some of the aches.

he makes a noise of assent when david suggests the place. outside their territories, for the most part. he's sure someone will recognize them both, but given that it's not the first time they've been seen together lately, maybe it won't matter. maybe they'll just assume it's more of the same. and maybe he'll get his ass beat when he goes home later.

as if that'll make a difference. right now, a drink sounds about right. he heads out the door ahead of david, glancing around before stepping out to make sure that nobody's watching or that they're not about to be followed. ]

[ he pulls his hoodie on, puts the hood up — it won't stop him being recognized, but it'll slow things down a bit. at a glance he probably just looks like one of evan's goons, which smarts his ego a little, but after the battering it's been taking recently it barely registers. ]

[ walking also sucks, in case anyone was wondering, but david just about manages to keep himself from limping. walking in silence, because he doubts evan's eager for small talk, at least lets him focus on himself and not letting the pain show. lets him mentally prepare himself too, to put on the face when he gets to the bar. ]

[ the shift in his demeanour is instantaneous as they walk through the doors, seemingly relaxed. casual and at ease with something playful in his eyes as he approaches the bar to order a beer. ]

[ the change in david is so abrupt that evan thinks, for a second, that everything before this was a lie, a joke, a way to try and make evan look stupid. he's furious, but it dies quickly, because there's no way someone can fake that kind of injury. if he had, he wouldn't have walked out of there with evan. he would have tried to kill him much more seriously. he would have killed him.

he frowns at david as he follows him. a way of hiding everything. the pain, the frustration, the disappointment. the rage. lying with every aspect of himself. it's something evan's never been able to do. his moods are always right there, right on him, face and body altogether.

maybe he should have figured it out.

he doesn't try when he orders his drink, something less serious than he'd normally get because he's in enough pain and lost enough blood to make hard liquor a bad idea. when he gets it, he follows david to a booth at the edge of things, out of sight of anybody looking for excitement. ]

Don't know how the fuck you do that.

Do what?

[ it doesn't even occur to david as anything noteworthy; it takes energy sometimes, like now, but david's been doing it so long it's practically instinct at this point. never let people see anything except the brash, charming hedonist with a hair trigger. ]

[ he looks down at himself, in fact, in a rare moment of open and genuine stupidity, as if he'll see what evan's talking about. is it something about his clothes? but it's just a plain black tracksuit. ]

[ evan's glare gets a little harder at that. as if he doesn't notice what he's doing. as if it's just part of him. lying every hour of every day. ]

Two minutes ago you were ready to drop dead. You walk in here and it's like we never fought.

[ like they both weren't lying on the ground, wishing they were someone else's kids. ]

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