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Nov. 29th, 2004 07:47 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ficinabottleAuthor:Starstones
Title:Tired
Characters: Charlie
Rating: PG-13 for implied drug use
Disclaimer: I unfortunately don't own Charlie, but I like to play with him!
Author Note:Its only a short fic. Please be kind: this is my first fic EVER and I just couldn't get this out of my head. Share the comment love with me!!
He felt so completely, utterly hopeless. Nothing he did ever seemed to work out properly. Sure, DriveShaft was going strong for quite a bit of time- at one point it seemed that they would make it all the way to the top.
"Bloody motherfucker! Why the fuck do I manage to screw up my fucking life??!"
He was once able to write his emotions out, use them as tools for lyrics for songs. Now he was lucky if he created a damn title. Charlie stared at the blank sheet of music and downed his sixth cup of "Irish" coffee. He needed stimulus, inspiration, a muse other than a caffiene/alcohol mix and a naked photograph of a young Elizabeth Taylor. Wait- what the hell was that doing there? Hmm, must be one of Liam's, he had one of the most perverted tastes that Charlie knew of.
Charlie glanced at the little bag filled with heroin. Could he? He was damn tired- tired of life, tired of rejection, and just tired of being tired.
"Oh what the hell. It's a change."
Charlie opened the bag, and reached for the powder...
Title:Tired
Characters: Charlie
Rating: PG-13 for implied drug use
Disclaimer: I unfortunately don't own Charlie, but I like to play with him!
Author Note:Its only a short fic. Please be kind: this is my first fic EVER and I just couldn't get this out of my head. Share the comment love with me!!
He felt so completely, utterly hopeless. Nothing he did ever seemed to work out properly. Sure, DriveShaft was going strong for quite a bit of time- at one point it seemed that they would make it all the way to the top.
"Bloody motherfucker! Why the fuck do I manage to screw up my fucking life??!"
He was once able to write his emotions out, use them as tools for lyrics for songs. Now he was lucky if he created a damn title. Charlie stared at the blank sheet of music and downed his sixth cup of "Irish" coffee. He needed stimulus, inspiration, a muse other than a caffiene/alcohol mix and a naked photograph of a young Elizabeth Taylor. Wait- what the hell was that doing there? Hmm, must be one of Liam's, he had one of the most perverted tastes that Charlie knew of.
Charlie glanced at the little bag filled with heroin. Could he? He was damn tired- tired of life, tired of rejection, and just tired of being tired.
"Oh what the hell. It's a change."
Charlie opened the bag, and reached for the powder...
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