Pour me this love, this hate - J3T/Deuce one-shot

Pour me this love, this hate - J3T/Deuce one-shot

Even if you don't know/like Hollywood Undead, maybe you can give this a read? It's not smut though, so don't worry xD...

Chapter 1

You can meet me here in heaven, don't you ever let me go - This Love, This Hate

I can't believe I am doing this. I'm barely aware that I'm drunk, let alone about to try and 'fix' a few things with Hollywood Undead's former member. It's like my legs are someone else's as they carry me ungracefully round the corner into a narrow alleyway, somewhere I think in the outskirts of LA.

I'm glad, though, that I stopped with the alcohol a couple hours ago. Danny was telling me I'd had enough, enough, ENOUGH! when Deuce strolled into the bar and I almost beat him up. Of course, I remember nothing of that. It was all recounted to me about an hour ago by a pissed J-Dog, who'd laid off the beer some because he was going to see his girlfriend, Vanessa, later.

Now, here I am only half-sober as I waddle through the darkness towards the dead-end of the alley, only supposed to be here by a partly-made agreement with Deuce. I'm too f❌cked up to worry much about whether he's vengeful - which is only his style - and brings a whole gang of his to screw me up some more.

I'm here first. We'd agreed in half an hour we'd meet. I'd explained to Charlie and asked him to cover for me, however much he didn't like it - he didn't trust Deuce, and he didn't trust me like this, either. He seems to sober up faster than me, somehow.

I lean against the grimy wall and slide down it until I'm sat with my legs spread but my knees bent, my arms resting loosely on them. My pale eyes, made dull by this light - or lack of light - roll around in their sockets as my vision blurs for a few moments. I mean, not that you can really tell if your view is blurred or not.

And when they adjust again, I see a skinny figure at a slow gait heading towards me, and it's only as Deuce gets closer that I realise he's walking slowly because he's being careful.

"Huurrr..." I try to greet him, but it comes out as a low drawl. I can see his eyes now, and he stops about a metre away, and they look nervous. I frown and try again. "Heyyy..." It now seems a flirtatious tone, but that's better than unintelligible growls.

"Hi." His reply comes quick and forced, and I wonder why he's so twitchy. He's staring down at me so intently that I'm afraid I've become distorted. Out of mostly politeness, I heave myself up, but then lean against the bricks again; I probably wouldn't be able to stay up of my own accord.

"You rang?" I raise my eyebrows as he looks even more confused. I let my brain rewind a few seconds and realise it came out more like, 'You bang?'. I feel my cheeks become hot and try to regain myself. "Blllrrrrrrr..." I say this louder than I intend to - I'm just trying to distinguish letters! - and Deuce takes a step back.

"You're drunk," he says matter-of-fact-ly.

"I know." I succeed in actually speaking normally. "Sooorry." I'm surprised at the differentiation of tension that is normally between us. If anyone asks about the situation with Deuce, I tell them that I'm not upset anymore, it doesn't matter anymore. He should move on, because we've moved on. But that's not entirely true. I may not be upset about IT, exactly, but in all honesty, I'm slightly upset that he is still upset. But you see, he doesn't know this. He thinks I hate him as much as Charlie, which is a tad extreme, though reasonable. So the tension is usually colder, because it's not a passionate hate that I advertise, it's more a scorn and irritation. But now... This is just awkward. But a kind of intense awkward.

"I doon't hate you," I croak, mostly unaware we've been staring at each other for a few minutes now. He looks surprised - which is odd; he can usually cover up his emotions - and then regains himself.

"We're being serious here." I think he thinks I'm lying.

"No... No, I meeaan... I really doon't."

"Then what's with all the bullshit about not caring anymore?" He spits, suddenly fuming. "You know you backstabbed me, even if I was being a bit of a jerk, but there's no need to make me into an even bigger assh❌le for the sake of your reputation."

The fading alcohol is making me calmer than I would have been had I been sober. I think maybe if I had been drinking only a few minutes ago, I would've strangled him by now. But I also don't know what to say. My brain has drawn a blank. Literally. All I can think of is blank.

blank

blank

blankblank

Deuce

blank
white

no

hold on

blankblankblaaannket

warm

sudden warmth.

dear god what have we taken?

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