Violet Shadows (FFVII)

XVI) The Feel Good Drag

WARNING: DOMESTIC ABUSE

~9 years ago~

Stumbling to the kitchen, he throws back another drink, his cheeks flushed and his knuckles white when he grips the counter's edge. I watch as he turns around slowly, his green eyes bloodshot. An unsteady hand runs its way through messy, spiked scarlet hair and Reno snarls, batting his shot glass off the counter and letting it shatter on the tile.

Why not leave already?

I can't.

I could easily snap him like a twig.

It's not that. He's just... not all bad, Shadow. He's broken.

You're broken. You thought you could fix-

I was tired of failing, Shadow. 

Green eyes flit up to mine, a negative spark spreading ripples of tension through the air. I couldn't stand the loneliness anymore, and all Reno craved was a touch that wasn't a beating for his mistakes. I thought that I could fix him, and that if I did, it would make up for what happened to Vincent. To Sephiroth. I cooked, I cleaned, I nursed his hangovers, and I followed him down his trap of supplements—which we used to ease our pains. But the numbing effects of the alcohol always have nasty side effects when paired with mental or emotional instability and a short temper.

"Where're the cigs?" he slurs. I sigh, nursing a bitter drink.

"The drawer."

"What was that?" he demands, unable to understand my muttering.

"The drawer," I repeat, louder this time.

"You #$%^&*' get 'em then," he snaps, turning and snatching the near empty glass bottle on the counter and taking a swig. "#$%^."

I nod and head into the kitchen, pulling a carton from the drawer behind him and handing it over. He fishes for a lighter, catching the flame on the end of two cigarettes and tossing one two me. I wince as it burns my arm when I move to catch it, lifting the cigarette to my lips and taking a long drag. Beside me, Reno puffs out pale smoke.

"The #$%^ is your problem today?"

"What?" I frown, watching as he steps around me to the sink. The water runs for a second before shutting off. A hand grips a fistful of my hair and jerks my head back so that I'm looking up at him—upside down. He chuckles grimly, tracing a cold finger along my jaw.

"Ain't she a pretty one?" he muses to himself. "How'd we get her here?"

"Reno, let go," I huff, trying to straighten. He jerks me back.

"Where the #$%^ do you think you're going?"

"Reno—"

The redheaded Turk trainee releases my hair, chuckling to himself as he fills another glass.

"Why don't you have another?"

"I'm okay for tonight," I reply, shaking my head and inhaling more nicotine-laced smoke. Reno fills another glass that was already out on the counter and pushes it into my hands.

"Drink."

"I'm done, Reno," I repeat, trying to hand the drink back. His eyes narrow and he snarls, walking around me slowly as if he's circling his prey. I take a deep breath, ready to speak when he jerks my head back again. A cold edge is pressed to my throat, the blade of his knife.

"What did I tell you to do, Violet?"

"Drink it," I reply dutifully, my mouth suddenly dry. What's he put in it this time?