!!bbGklDAv83w 10/27/11(Thu)21:48 No.16759701|
John gently slaps you awake. "Hey, Francois," his voice is a whisper. Your eyes open. John is standing above you. He looks like hell, his hair is disheveled, his face sagging. He's dressed though, in one of your shirts.
You raise your head and look at him. A pair of your pants, too. "Whuh?" You ask. "What's going on?"
John looks around your apartment, reminded of his own after waking that morning. "Well, uh, I woke up naked and you were on the ground. I didn't do that to you, did I?"
You grab his hand and he helps you stand. You feel like you're drunk, and have trouble standing straight. "Nah, nah," you wave off the idea. "I was just," you lean on your knees. "That took a little outta me." John helps you to your chair, and you sit with relief. God damn.
John stands, his arms crossed, grabbing at the shirt he took from your closet. "You don't mind, do you? Mine were,"
"Don't worry about it," you tell him, smiling.
"What happened?" He asks. You point over to your computer. He goes over and sits in front of it, noticing the webcam. "You recorded it?"
"Yeah. Just open it up on the taskbar and play it back. I figured you'd want to know what happens, you know, during."
John taps a few keys and you hear your conversation from earlier. Then silence. Then the roar. The clatter. The commotion of the fight. Then John, "Holy shit." He plays the entire thing again, and again, and again, watching himself become a monster and then you stopping him. "You know. You kept telling me, but I never really believed it. Even when I was over there trying to do it, I didn't think anything would happen. I'd humor myself for a bit, then go home and forget all about this. But God damn."