A Curable Disease
folder
G through L › Life with Derek
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,264
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › Life with Derek
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,264
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Life with Derek, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A Curable Disease
A/N: Just a short one-shot.
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Oh, How the Mighty Fall
His face twists upwards as his eyes catch on the scene that lies before him. He feels an uncomfortable knot forming in the pit of his stomach and he pushes the feeling aside, viewing it as unwelcome fatigue after such a long day.
But he knows better.
He watches through lidded eyes as his step-sister’s fingers entwine with the much larger ones belonging to his announced ‘best friend’, Sam. He wills his fist not to clench and he prays for an excuse from God knows who, to bring him back from his disturbing reverie. He notices the way Sam’s lips pull upwards in a crooked smile as he listens attentively to some useless quip Casey is telling him, and he hates her all the more.
Because it’s supposed to be her.
She’s the one that he’s supposed to be jealous over.
She’s the one that is supposed to make his stomach knot and his sense cloud.
She. Her. Girl. Woman.
And damn it all to hell when HE begins to make more sense than SHE, and the longing for feminine curves is replaced with a more manly structure.
Fuck.
All he can hear is the rush in his ears as the couple leans in for a chastise kiss, and he cracks under his denial and slams his fist on the kitchen table, almost knocking over a glass of cola in the process.
“Could you please not do that around me?” He says, his voice holding a slight edge, and his words being more of a demand rather than a request. He watches as Casey’s eyes turn to slits as she catches her breath from where he had startled her.
“Oh please, Derek, as if you don’t nearly have sex in front of the entire family every time one of your bimbos come over.” She scathes, standing up to tower over him where he sits.
“Yes, but at least the girls I bring home are hot, this…this is just disgusting.” He shoots back, folding his arms across his chest, and vaguely noticing the fact that Sam has remained silent the entire time. Not defending his girlfriend, but certainly not defending his best friend either. It must be so fucking hard for you, Sam, he thinks, almost wishing that the other boy could read his mind.
“Well if it bothers you so much, dear brother, then why don’t you do us all a favor and just leave.” Casey rants dramatically, gesturing towards the door.
He opens his mouth to reply that he can stay where ever the hell he wants, but he quickly closes it again, musing that perhaps leaving may not be such a bad idea. Without a word he pulls his keys from his front jean pocket and heads out for the front door, leaving the shocked couple in disbelief that Derek Venturi ever did what he was told.
He’s a little shocked that he doesn’t end up driving into a ditch as he makes his way aimlessly around the familiar town that he grew up in. Thoughts and images of things that he wills unsuccessfully to vanish keep playing through his mind, like a scratched record that you never liked in the first place.
He feels sick.
The fact of whether it’s mental or physical is really of no importance, because one way or another, Derek Venturi believes that hell has taken form. He grasps the steering wheel tightly in his hands and curses aloud anything and everything that plagues the thoughts in his mind.
It’s just a phase.
That’s what he repeats over and over, until the ideal is so roughly engraved in his mind that any other possibility is just far too ridiculous to even consider. It’s just an unwelcome, temporary condition that will pass.
It’s a curable disease.
That’s why he sleeps with so many girls. To convince himself that this really isn’t real. Girl after girl. Slut after slut, because if he kisses enough of them, touches enough of them, fucks enough of them, then eventually this feeling will go away. Believe in something strong enough then eventually it’s got to be true? So, he’ll continue to break the hearts of girls that he never truly wanted in the first place because Derek Venturi does not admit defeat.
Though he lost the battle long ago.
He wishes that he could turn off his mind. Just sink away into the heterosexual land where everything is bright and beautiful and so fucking wonderful. Rather be than be stuck here where his breath hitches at the sight of his best male friend and nothing makes sense.
How did he end up like this? How did he end up in this whirlwind of sweat and dreams and denial, counting down the number of girls it takes to make him finally actually want them?
Playing the man whore image in order to not only convince everyone else but himself as well?
Oh, how the mighty fall.
But one way or another he’s going to get back on his feet.
He finds himself standing at the front door of a girl that he has visited many times before though he scarcely remembers her name. She answers the door in a bit of a huff, but her frown is quickly replaced with a grin as she notices the glorified Derek Venturi standing on her front porch. He watches in mild annoyance as she quickly runs her fingers through her long, blonde hair and lets out a small giggle at the sight of him. He doesn’t fail to notice the edge of excitement in her voice as she greets him in a nasally voice. He throws on his best, not to mention rehearsed, smirk as he steps forward, purposely invading her space. Everything but his will wishes him to just turn around and give up trying as he pulls her to him by the waist and whispers seductively in her ear.
“Can I come in?”
--------------------------------------------
Oh, How the Mighty Fall
His face twists upwards as his eyes catch on the scene that lies before him. He feels an uncomfortable knot forming in the pit of his stomach and he pushes the feeling aside, viewing it as unwelcome fatigue after such a long day.
But he knows better.
He watches through lidded eyes as his step-sister’s fingers entwine with the much larger ones belonging to his announced ‘best friend’, Sam. He wills his fist not to clench and he prays for an excuse from God knows who, to bring him back from his disturbing reverie. He notices the way Sam’s lips pull upwards in a crooked smile as he listens attentively to some useless quip Casey is telling him, and he hates her all the more.
Because it’s supposed to be her.
She’s the one that he’s supposed to be jealous over.
She’s the one that is supposed to make his stomach knot and his sense cloud.
She. Her. Girl. Woman.
And damn it all to hell when HE begins to make more sense than SHE, and the longing for feminine curves is replaced with a more manly structure.
Fuck.
All he can hear is the rush in his ears as the couple leans in for a chastise kiss, and he cracks under his denial and slams his fist on the kitchen table, almost knocking over a glass of cola in the process.
“Could you please not do that around me?” He says, his voice holding a slight edge, and his words being more of a demand rather than a request. He watches as Casey’s eyes turn to slits as she catches her breath from where he had startled her.
“Oh please, Derek, as if you don’t nearly have sex in front of the entire family every time one of your bimbos come over.” She scathes, standing up to tower over him where he sits.
“Yes, but at least the girls I bring home are hot, this…this is just disgusting.” He shoots back, folding his arms across his chest, and vaguely noticing the fact that Sam has remained silent the entire time. Not defending his girlfriend, but certainly not defending his best friend either. It must be so fucking hard for you, Sam, he thinks, almost wishing that the other boy could read his mind.
“Well if it bothers you so much, dear brother, then why don’t you do us all a favor and just leave.” Casey rants dramatically, gesturing towards the door.
He opens his mouth to reply that he can stay where ever the hell he wants, but he quickly closes it again, musing that perhaps leaving may not be such a bad idea. Without a word he pulls his keys from his front jean pocket and heads out for the front door, leaving the shocked couple in disbelief that Derek Venturi ever did what he was told.
He’s a little shocked that he doesn’t end up driving into a ditch as he makes his way aimlessly around the familiar town that he grew up in. Thoughts and images of things that he wills unsuccessfully to vanish keep playing through his mind, like a scratched record that you never liked in the first place.
He feels sick.
The fact of whether it’s mental or physical is really of no importance, because one way or another, Derek Venturi believes that hell has taken form. He grasps the steering wheel tightly in his hands and curses aloud anything and everything that plagues the thoughts in his mind.
It’s just a phase.
That’s what he repeats over and over, until the ideal is so roughly engraved in his mind that any other possibility is just far too ridiculous to even consider. It’s just an unwelcome, temporary condition that will pass.
It’s a curable disease.
That’s why he sleeps with so many girls. To convince himself that this really isn’t real. Girl after girl. Slut after slut, because if he kisses enough of them, touches enough of them, fucks enough of them, then eventually this feeling will go away. Believe in something strong enough then eventually it’s got to be true? So, he’ll continue to break the hearts of girls that he never truly wanted in the first place because Derek Venturi does not admit defeat.
Though he lost the battle long ago.
He wishes that he could turn off his mind. Just sink away into the heterosexual land where everything is bright and beautiful and so fucking wonderful. Rather be than be stuck here where his breath hitches at the sight of his best male friend and nothing makes sense.
How did he end up like this? How did he end up in this whirlwind of sweat and dreams and denial, counting down the number of girls it takes to make him finally actually want them?
Playing the man whore image in order to not only convince everyone else but himself as well?
Oh, how the mighty fall.
But one way or another he’s going to get back on his feet.
He finds himself standing at the front door of a girl that he has visited many times before though he scarcely remembers her name. She answers the door in a bit of a huff, but her frown is quickly replaced with a grin as she notices the glorified Derek Venturi standing on her front porch. He watches in mild annoyance as she quickly runs her fingers through her long, blonde hair and lets out a small giggle at the sight of him. He doesn’t fail to notice the edge of excitement in her voice as she greets him in a nasally voice. He throws on his best, not to mention rehearsed, smirk as he steps forward, purposely invading her space. Everything but his will wishes him to just turn around and give up trying as he pulls her to him by the waist and whispers seductively in her ear.
“Can I come in?”