smotheredakiss (smotheredakiss) wrote in kh_slash,

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Make It Out Alive, Part I: Avalanche

Title: Make It Out Alive, Part I: Avalanche
Author: smotheredakiss
Rating: PG-13. Thematic elements.
Pairing: Coming later. Hang in there?
Summary: So kiss me goodbye. Honey, I’m gonna make it out alive.
Disclaimer: Included lyrics by Garbage. Summary/title from lyrics by Cobra Starship. Don’t know or own any of the members of Kill Hannah, and yes, liberties were taken with family members and situations.
Words: 705
A/N: I need to apologize to anyone who read this while Garret's name was spelled wrong. I'm just gonna crawl into a hole and hide for a while.

Avalanche is sullen and too thin
She starves herself to rid herself of sin
And the kick is so divine when she sees bones beneath the skin
And she says, “Hey, baby, can you bleed like me?
Come on, baby, can you bleed like me?”

Garret, he was always thin. Then again, that was fashionable for guys, so no one really noticed. It wasn’t until he stopped showing it off that it was obvious.

It started when Garret was 12. That was the year his parents got divorced and his older sister tried to kill herself. If he wanted to eat, he had to make food for himself. Soon, making food turned into buying food, and he learned that it was easier to just not eat at all. Sometimes, he ate the free lunches his school provided, but that usually consisted of peanut butter and jelly and milk. Garret hated milk, and he was allergic to peanuts. When he’d go over to his friend’s houses, their mothers would press food on him with worried looks. If he stayed the whole night, he would hear the mothers talking to the fathers about him in hushed tones, wondering if he was alright and if his parents were taking care of him.

Of course his parents were taking care of him. It was just that they had bigger problems than he did. His sister was getting more self-destructive every week, and, after three years, the divorce still hadn’t been finalized. Whenever they talked, his parents ended up screaming at each other, even if it was only over the phone. After hearing one of these exchanges, Garret’s appetite would disappear for at least a week, usually more. It was also around this time that his mother would pretend to be in a good mood and cook meals nearly every day. He couldn’t eat any of them, however much he wanted to, and it killed him to hear her crying at night. By the time he was 16, she was begging him to get a job.

"I can’t feed you, and I can barely pay the rent. I need you to have a job, Garret."

It was when he finally landed the job at a local record store that he met Greg. Greg knew everything there was to know about 80s music, and Garret ate up every word. Anything Greg had suggested that he could get his hands on was played during his hours. What really got to him, though, were the beats. When business was slow, he would sit and tap out rhythms, and soon, he was staying after closing to teach himself on the drum kit the store had.

Garret had barely eaten in five years, and it was apparent. Even in winter, Garret wore thin clothing that showed off his bones. His fingers were like the drumsticks he worked so tirelessly with. Cheekbones and collarbones and every other bone in his body stuck out, his eyes big and blue, his hair thin. Nearly every night, he was at Greg’s place, listening to records and watching him play bass. Greg never said anything, not even when he would faint at work. He just watched the transformation and hoped to God that Garret would be at work the next day.

He always was.

Six years later, they still worked at the record store, and Garret was still the same skin-and-bones figure it seemed he had always been. Greg and he were rooming in a small place a few blocks from work. Garret had gotten better at drums, always self-taught, but able to pick up any beat he heard. That year, in the dead middle of a Chicago winter, there was a day that he was practicing a little earlier at the store than usual. Greg was helping him close, and just seven minutes before midnight, a small, pretty boy walked in. The boy was nearly as thin as Garret, but so feminine that it didn’t seem odd. He glanced around for a few minutes before looking up at Garret and studying his movements. Gracefully, he moved over to stand in front of him until Garret stopped drumming, arms shaking and dripping sweat. The boy smirked at him, knowingly, but the lights were getting very bright and Garret’s ears were ringing so loud and suddenly he felt so nauseous he couldn’t think.

"I know this guy you should meet. His name’s Mat..." was all he heard before sliding off of the stool and crumpling to the ground.

A/N: Okay. I have ideas for this entire story, but I've had writer's block. I ended up forcing this one out, because I'm hoping that will help me get into the groove and get me started on the other parts. It's not my best work, I'll say that. I may go back and edit it once I finish the rest, but we'll see. Anyhow. Feedback would kick my ass. Oh, and I've just realized how short this is. I'm hoping the other parts will be longer.
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