asthehero.

It takes him a moment to remember where he is, dizzy and disoriented and the rush of blood pounding in his head. There’s smoke hanging thick and heavy in the air between them, the darkness of the room makes the atmosphere feel downright poisonous and it sits in his lungs, coating his insides in it’s haze. He can hear muffled sounds, thumping and rhythmic like music, and he vaguely remembers putting it on– putting on a show. A show for himself.

     “This– really isn’t in any way healthy, is it.” It’s a rhetorical question. His vision swims and the blood pours down his mask that much faster. The concept itself was unprecedented– traveling between universes had never been done before, not to his knowledge anyway. There was no telling what kind of side effects could result from prolonged exposure. But god, is it hard to stay away from that face.

It’s warm between his thighs and he leans harder into his other self, trying not to bleed all over the other man but getting a weird thrill out of it when he does anyway. One minute he’s gyrating to the beat, making himself feel special as they shared a cigarette, and the next he’s in his lap with a nosebleed. He can’t even remember what he was doing before he stepped through that tear. The more he tried to make sense of everything the more blood he spilled.
     “Mmm, some party, huh?”