Chapter Text
On some level, David knew what he was planning to do was crazy. Walking into class to beat Katsuo after fresh installing a military grade implant was nothing short of insane. And the chances of him getting flatlined for it were high. So if he was really gonna do something that crazy, he should probably try to enjoy his last night on earth.
The bottle was old, a relic from before the net crash if his mother was to be believed. He could almost hear her words. Tequila old style mijo, the only kind I drink. She was saving this one for his graduation. Fat chance of that happening now. Might as well put it to good use.
After all, why not drink the bottle dry, who was gonna stop him? His mother was gone, he had no friends, and he was basically flat broke. Seemed like a perfectly good time to get shitfaced.
He cracked the seal on the bottle, and grabbed a shot glass from the back of the cupboard. He poured one out for his mama, before downing one himself. It was smooth, even if it tasted horrible, and it burned goin down. Two more quickly followed, before he sat back and just breathed, ignoring the burning in his gut.
She was really gone. He had no delusions about where he lived, knew that there was always the possibility of it happening. But he never would have guessed it would happen to her. Not like that. Night city had a habit of tricking you in that way.
She had always seemed invincible. Even when she was breaking her back through hours and hours of work his mother always felt like an unstoppable force. But she wasn’t. And now she was just another number for a gang violence statistic.
The last thing he did was make her cry. Because of some stupid fucking upgrade for a school he hated. He was never gonna get to hear her voice again. Never get to feel her hugs. Never gonna get to make her dream come true.
His stomach turned, and he ran for the bathroom before hurling the alcohol into his toilet. He hadn’t eaten anything for lunch. Hell he hadn’t eaten anything for a long while. Who fucking cared? He stumbled into the shower, and slapped the dial towards the left. He only bothered stripping off his shirt before letting the freezing water hit his back. It was like Ice, but even the shock of it couldn’t seem to snap him out of this daze. He sunk lower to the ground before falling on his ass.
The water was turning red from the dried blood of the surgery, and as the water turned hot and steamed filled the room he started crying again. Even with the burning water hitting him he still couldn’t feel a thing.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there under that spray. But when he got up again the blood long since been rinsed. It was like he just listing through consciousness, going through the motions.
That’s probably the only reason he managed to change into a fresh pair of pants. He left his shirt off, instead opting to throw on just his mother’s jacket. He looked at the bottle still sitting on the counter before grabbing it and taking several deep gulps.
He stared at the bottle for several seconds, before shrugging to himself and stepping out the door into his mega building. No one was gonna bat an eye at a depressed teen trying to drink himself to death, which suited David just fine.
He continued taking half hearted pops from the bottle while he rode the elevator down. When he got to the ground floor he turned and began his route to leave the building. Staggering onto the street and into the city, not caring for his destination.
What did it really matter anyway?
When David woke up, his whole body was feeling numb. His head was fucking killing him. A pounding in his temples that felt like a fucking power drill to the inside of his skull. His mouth was dust dry and lips were cracked. His eyes stung and he wasn’t sure where he was. He was definitely in a bed, but it sure as shit wasn’t his. What the fuck happened last night?
He tried rolling out of the bed, but couldn’t quite manage it. Which is how he realized he was tangled in blankets. They felt weird too. Or more accurately his skin felt strange. What did he do? Was this what a hangover was? No wonder he was told not to drink by his mo-
He shut that thought down with prejudice. Now was not the time for that. Instead he looked around. His vision was still blurry, but was coming into focus. He was clearly in a one bedroom apartment of some kind. The lights were dim but glowed with soft purples. He could see a poster, one of those old ads for a trip to the moon. His jacket was laying on a large windowsill that gave a decent view of the waterfront below. Guess that placed him somewhere near jig jig street.
God his head was fucking killing him. Alright, get some water, and then get the fuck home.
It took him way longer to get out of the bed then he’d care to admit. Untangling himself from those blankets was a fucking process, and a wave of nausea passed through him which he choked down. No way was he spewing chunks in some rando’s crib. Standing on his own two feet felt near impossible at first, but as he staggered toward the kitchenette he balanced out. God his body felt like it was 50lbs heavier.
Huffing down what felt like 2 gallons of tap water should not have felt rewarding as it did. His body was still off kilter, but at least he it didn’t hurt to swallow anymore. He grabbed his jacket off the windowsill and threw it on, the material feeling different against his skin. Or maybe that was just his skin feeling weird.
What the fuck was that about anyway? Whatever he’d deal with it later. No one was home from the looks of things, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be here when whoever owned this place did. As he turned to leave he was overcome by a strange feeling of…loss? That wasn’t the right word. Whatever it was it made him feel like he couldn’t leave without doing something first.
Hmmm. Whoever owned this place must have helped him out if he wasn’t a flatline. Felt rude to leave without at least a note. He saw a data pad over near the kitchen counter. That’d work. Grabbing it, he flicked it open and left his number and the words ‘thanks for the bed’. He kinda felt like a gonk, the message felt corny, but hey it got the job done. He tossed it onto the bed and then went for the door. Time to get the fuck home.
The trip back to his mega building took hours and he was starving when he got on the elevator. He made it to his door, and was greeted by the red error message. Fuck, he forgot about the rent. How the hell was he supposed to pay for this. He knew the accounts his mom had were all emptied out to pay for the bills. He opened his wallet to see the pocket change he was working with and did a spit take. Where the fuck did he get 46,000 eddies!
What the fuck did he do last night!