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[...setting jerk-offs on fire would be his new hobby...]
"Where are you taking us?"
"Mexico."
"What's in Mexico?"
"Mexicans."
Ahaha. QT, how do I love thee? Lemmecount the ways slash you with George Clooney 'cos maybe I have a thing for brothers who enjoy killing fuckloads of people.
South of Mexico
From Dusk Till Dawn. R. Richie/Seth i.e. incest.
Post-traumatic optimism.
-
One good thing about Richie turning into a vampire and getting a table leg through the heart is that Seth won't ever have to feel his little brother's unbrotherly hands on him again. Seth can finally get a good night's sleep without Richie trying to fuck him in the middle of the night. That was some fucked up shit. Richie was a fucked up kid, but he was also Seth's fucked up little brother, and that makes all the difference.
In Seth's world, you're hardwired to take care of the people you care about. You don't go back on blood, even if they try to suck yours. Among other things.
If anything, the fucking vampires were to blame. Carlos, too. Carlos and the vampires, they should take the blame and Seth should fucking run them all off a cliff, just for fun. For Richie. No, Seth would set them on fire like he did to that jerk-off back in Big Spring, then he'd run them off a cliff.
Setting jerk-offs on fire, Seth decided, would be his new hobby.
+
Richie didn't look like a killer. With his long face and large forehead and glasses, for god's sake, he looked more like the bookish consiglieri. Not a Corleone, but a Tom Hagen, picked up off the street and making something of himself. The difference is, Tom Hagen succeeds and Richie doesn't.
Didn't.
Doesn't.
Richie stayed down at the bottom-feeding level because that was where Seth was. The fact that Richie's highest goal in life would be to succeed at being a scumbag, that was partly Seth's fault. A lot of it was because Richie was one fucked up, sex-crazed bastard, but some of it, at least a little of it, was because Seth wanted to stay. That was like a bucket of ice water in the face because, Jesus, the best thing you want to be is utter shit. That's just fucking depressing.
Even if his little brother had the capabilities to make it to the top, Richie would have told the top in no uncertain terms to fuck itself. Down here, things are messier, livelier, but just as lucrative if you play your cards right. Seth is a great card-player. He stayed, so Richie stayed, and now that Richie's gone, Seth isn't sure whether to stay or to get the hell out of here and leave Mexico so fucking far behind.
What's south of Mexico? With any luck, it would be free of vampires.
...Jesus Christ. Vampires.
Last night was some fucked up night.
+
Focus, Gecko, *focus*.
One time when Richie got as far as kissing him, Seth actually kissed back.
Eyes on road, eyes on fucking road.
Not like he thought about it, not like it was a conscious decision, because how could it be? How could it be a conscious decision to kiss your own flesh and blood this way? To open your mouth when he opened his and to let his tongue touch yours, disorienting you with illicit reverence, tasting of the whiskey you had shared only an hour hours ago.
"Richie, what the fuck," said Seth when he felt Richie's hand on his belt. He bucked but Richie held on. His little brother may not have much in the strength department, but he had determination stacked to the sky. "Richie, get-" Richie began undoing his pants. "What the fuck are you doing?"
It wasn't like Richie's "quiet, quiet, shhh" ever worked on Seth before. It never did. For some reason, it worked tonight. Maybe because Richie wasn't screaming and waving a gun around in that nervy way he did. This wasn't a show, wasn't an attempt to show everyone that he was boss just because he had the goddamned gun. Tonight, Richie knew what he was doing. He knew what he wanted.
The point was, Seth was quiet. Seth stayed quiet.
The following things came undone, in this order:
1) Seth's belt.
2) Seth's pants.
3) Seth.
It was the first time, but it wasn't the last.
+
You have to look at the bright side of things. At least there'd be no more of this... thing... between him and Richie. No more of this strange, whiskey-flavored guilt that settles at the bottom of Seth's stomach and refuses to go away.
Bright sides.
So fucking bright you'll go blind.
+
Guatemala. South of Mexico is Guatemala. On the floor of a burning club miles back is Richie. On the road to somewhere and nowhere at the same time is Seth, sweating in the heat of the Mexican sun and losing sight of everything.
[end.]
"Mexico."
"What's in Mexico?"
"Mexicans."
Ahaha. QT, how do I love thee? Lemme
South of Mexico
From Dusk Till Dawn. R. Richie/Seth i.e. incest.
Post-traumatic optimism.
One good thing about Richie turning into a vampire and getting a table leg through the heart is that Seth won't ever have to feel his little brother's unbrotherly hands on him again. Seth can finally get a good night's sleep without Richie trying to fuck him in the middle of the night. That was some fucked up shit. Richie was a fucked up kid, but he was also Seth's fucked up little brother, and that makes all the difference.
In Seth's world, you're hardwired to take care of the people you care about. You don't go back on blood, even if they try to suck yours. Among other things.
If anything, the fucking vampires were to blame. Carlos, too. Carlos and the vampires, they should take the blame and Seth should fucking run them all off a cliff, just for fun. For Richie. No, Seth would set them on fire like he did to that jerk-off back in Big Spring, then he'd run them off a cliff.
Setting jerk-offs on fire, Seth decided, would be his new hobby.
+
Richie didn't look like a killer. With his long face and large forehead and glasses, for god's sake, he looked more like the bookish consiglieri. Not a Corleone, but a Tom Hagen, picked up off the street and making something of himself. The difference is, Tom Hagen succeeds and Richie doesn't.
Didn't.
Doesn't.
Richie stayed down at the bottom-feeding level because that was where Seth was. The fact that Richie's highest goal in life would be to succeed at being a scumbag, that was partly Seth's fault. A lot of it was because Richie was one fucked up, sex-crazed bastard, but some of it, at least a little of it, was because Seth wanted to stay. That was like a bucket of ice water in the face because, Jesus, the best thing you want to be is utter shit. That's just fucking depressing.
Even if his little brother had the capabilities to make it to the top, Richie would have told the top in no uncertain terms to fuck itself. Down here, things are messier, livelier, but just as lucrative if you play your cards right. Seth is a great card-player. He stayed, so Richie stayed, and now that Richie's gone, Seth isn't sure whether to stay or to get the hell out of here and leave Mexico so fucking far behind.
What's south of Mexico? With any luck, it would be free of vampires.
...Jesus Christ. Vampires.
Last night was some fucked up night.
+
Focus, Gecko, *focus*.
One time when Richie got as far as kissing him, Seth actually kissed back.
Eyes on road, eyes on fucking road.
Not like he thought about it, not like it was a conscious decision, because how could it be? How could it be a conscious decision to kiss your own flesh and blood this way? To open your mouth when he opened his and to let his tongue touch yours, disorienting you with illicit reverence, tasting of the whiskey you had shared only an hour hours ago.
"Richie, what the fuck," said Seth when he felt Richie's hand on his belt. He bucked but Richie held on. His little brother may not have much in the strength department, but he had determination stacked to the sky. "Richie, get-" Richie began undoing his pants. "What the fuck are you doing?"
It wasn't like Richie's "quiet, quiet, shhh" ever worked on Seth before. It never did. For some reason, it worked tonight. Maybe because Richie wasn't screaming and waving a gun around in that nervy way he did. This wasn't a show, wasn't an attempt to show everyone that he was boss just because he had the goddamned gun. Tonight, Richie knew what he was doing. He knew what he wanted.
The point was, Seth was quiet. Seth stayed quiet.
The following things came undone, in this order:
1) Seth's belt.
2) Seth's pants.
3) Seth.
It was the first time, but it wasn't the last.
+
You have to look at the bright side of things. At least there'd be no more of this... thing... between him and Richie. No more of this strange, whiskey-flavored guilt that settles at the bottom of Seth's stomach and refuses to go away.
Bright sides.
So fucking bright you'll go blind.
+
Guatemala. South of Mexico is Guatemala. On the floor of a burning club miles back is Richie. On the road to somewhere and nowhere at the same time is Seth, sweating in the heat of the Mexican sun and losing sight of everything.
[end.]
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