(no subject)
Title: Addicted to You - Numero Deux
Rating: 14A? [drug use]
Summary: Joel is a 17 year old addict; Benji is a formerly homeless musician who finds a mysetrious boy right before he blacks out from speed...
Disclaimer: I do not own these people, and these people never did the activities mentioned.
Note: Part deux!
Addict
“Get up”
Errggg, Shut up Lars, let me sleep.
“No.”
”Benji, get the fuck up”
“Fine!” I shout, opening my eyes and flailing about in the sheets, angry at the interruption.
Suddenly I recall the events of last night, and whip my vision to my right. But there is no Joel in sight. I look at Lars and furrow my brow, silently accusing him of throwing him out.
“Relax, our resident drug addict manchild is eating cereal at the table.” He waves his thumb over to the other room, and I catch a glimpse of Joel's dark hair, and an arm holding a spoon moving up and down.
“He's not a manchild, you fuck. Now why am I up? It's only...well what time is it, exactly?” I finish stupidly. What can I say, I am not a morning person.
“It's 10:30 dumbfuck. We need to clean the apartment! - the super is coming today remember? Stupid fucking Tim decided to go down to the office and talk to him last party we had while he was on a cocaine high. Thanks to my so-called best friend we might be evicted now, cause he thinks we may be dealing plenty of narcotics so we have to CLEAN UP!” I've never seen Lars this angry, and he's not the most happy of people in normal circumstances.
Our crappy apartment is very noisy, and we both hear the crunching footsteps into the living room. It's Joel, looking guilty and ashamed.
“I'm - really sorry.” he starts in a small voice. “If I had known today was an important day I would've just left last night. You shouldn't have to deal with idiots like me.”
I don't know why I have such a big soft spot for this kid, but he's just. Different.
I don't dare say anything when Lars is off the wagon though, so I just look at him apprehensive - hoping he doesn't rip Joel apart with a vicious response.
He just sighs. “Yeah, I know we shouldn't have to, but we were kids once too, not that much different from yourself. And at least your sorry - you aren't an idiotic jackass who has no feelings.”
“Still. I feel like I owe you something.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Lars rolling his.
“ If you feel so bad” he starts “- help us.” And with that, Lars walks over to the window, opens it and then grabs a pack of cancers from his pocket and lights up.
“Nice attempt at airing out the apartment,” I tease lightly, trying to break the tension. But all I get is a single glare and a puff puff puff, exhale.
“I guess i'll start by cleaning up the empty boxes...” I walk over to the massive pile of pizza boxes in the corner and cram as many as I can into my arms.
“Can someone get the door?” I ask.
Joel extends an arm to come help, but Lars stops him. “I'll take them. I need to get out for a minute.”
He shoves me over, sticks his cigarette firmly in his open mouth, wrenches the door open along with the boxes from my hands and walks out to go to the garbage.
Awkward silence.
“So....how do you live with that guy?”
---------------------
I didn't intend for the question to sound offensive, but that Lars is fucking mean.
Benji looks at me with his gorgeous brown eyes, but doesn't know what to say.
“Lars isn't....he isn't - always bad.” At least he tried to be defensive.
“Well you both curse at each other like a feuding couple...” I realize I've probably overstepped my boundaries. “But I guess it isn't my place to say that, it's not like I know you. And he let me stay” I add quickly.
“No...” He trails off. “Lars is - he's complicated. He has a lot of baggage from when he was younger. He's seen lots of things and has never really been that content with life to begin with. But I also have known him for such a long time that that's probably the reason we can swear at each other - we're used to it. He's just had a tough time lately cause his best friend, probably ever, is going down the dark path of cocaine abuse. They've never fought before this”
That hits a note with me. I nod, staying silent.
Lars shuffles back into the room. “Why are you just standing there? Fucking Christ.”
Benji, looking scared slightly, grabs the remaining empty boxes and hastily goes out of the apartment, leaving me with the angsty punk who probably hates me.
I don't really know what to do with myself so when I spot a broom in the corner I grab it and begin to sweep. I feel Lars staring at me, so I turn around to face him; but he just nods somewhat satisfied.
After a second or so of sweepity sweeping away, I hear a loud 'sshzzzt' from a nozzle. Aerosol.
I turn to see Lars spraying a generic brand of air freshener and almost yell 'Stop!”
“What?” His faces scrunches in annoyance. “Why?”
“Because that's something that the super will be looking for. A smell to cover up the scent of marijuana or something.”
He contemplates me for a second, and then has the changed mind look.
“Wow, never even crossed my mind.” And he places it back down.
“It's not the first time i've had experience with this kind of thing,” I almost laugh.
“Not the first?”
“Let's just say -” I pause, phrasing the sentence in my head. “ I've had people come into my home looking for drugs before.”
“Been through a lot of shit, huh kid?” Kid. What nerve. He can't be much older than me
“I guess you could say that. And I'm not a kid you know.” I almost bite back.
He chuckles. Chuckles? Really? “You are. You kinda remind me of me actually - only a skinny stick.”
“How am I like you? And I am not a stick!”
“Have you looked in a mirror?” I glare at him, almost forgetting how mad he was before because now i'm getting pissed, but he has a hint of a smile on his face.
Oh, satirical humour, how I hate you.
“To answer the question, you're like me because you have a lot hanging on your shoulders. You've obviously grown up too fast having to deal with some plague or another and it's gotten the best of you. You aren't a drug addict because you have nothing better to do; it's because you have too much. I was the same. I had to take care of my dying mother, while my father drank all our funds away. Then I had to work to save the house - and I used and used to take the edge off, still trying to get to school. I showed up high sure, but I was there. Then Mom got too sick, decided to go to a better place and I left my Dad in his drunken stupor. Ran away at 16 to live with my best friend, and here I am now years later.”
Wow.
Wow.
“We're the unlucky ones kid. The scum that just can't catch a break.” he sighs and goes into the kitchen.
The door creaks open behind me and I turn, hoping it isn't the super. But it's Benji, I almost forgot about him.
I don't know why; he's so goddamn hot. But i'm afraid to ask how old he is, Lars thinking i'm so fucking young. I'm practically an adult, for fucks sake. He won't ever go out with me though....he held my hand yesterday because we both know how it feels, being gay. He thought i'd get offended by him sleeping next to me, him not knowing I am a homo.
I think?
Maybe because I was cracked out and he wanted me to feel better?
I don't know.
“Are you...okay?” the hot one asks me.
“Oh yeah, yeah i'm fine.” I look down at the floor, and realize i'm still clutching the broom. But not...doing anything..with it.
“Um.....k. Well, do you want to help me move the couch? It's actually supposed to be under the window, and our guitars and music junk are supposed to be there, we just moved it all into Lars' room for a party.”
I nod slowly, although i'm cringing inside. I cannot lift things - at all.
Combined with the drugs I take, the cancers I smoke, the ultra-violence I get to endure at 'home', and the fact I barely eat; I just don't have the strength.
Nevertheless, I drop the broom and walk to the couch. It's one of those really cheap couches that weigh a bazillion pounds due to overstuffing to make it seem comfy, and heavy poor quality wood. Yayyy...
I see Benji and his nice muscles firmly grasp his end, so I take my poor excuse for arms and take mine.
“Ready? 1, 2 3” and he grunts as he lifts. I die as I lift.
Okay, this is really hurting me. The bruises on my arms ache, and so do the ones on my calves.
“Benji,” I gasp.
“Joel, we have to move it! Stop standing there.” But he's edging too quickly over to the other side.
“I seriously - can't. Do. This.” I breathe out.
Before I can do anything, i'm almost back up against the wall, Benji holding his end firmly, but losing grip because he's basically holding all the weight.
“Ok, we can put it down.” he says, slightly annoyed.
But he says it a second too late. I attempt one last time to lift up my end, using all my strength when Benji sets his end down.
And it's too much for me. The shock of Benji letting go makes me swing backward and when I hit the wall, a loose nail punctures me in the back.
Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
-------------------------------------
“Shit!” I run over to Joel slumped over, feeling like an idiot.
As I run my eyes over his body, I feel even more idiotic.
His legs are the size of my upper arms I swear to God. Even with skinny jeans on, he's almost swimming in them. And his skinny frame shows through his t-shirt, that's no doubt a small.
I bend down on one knee and touch his shoulder. 'Joel?” I say coaxingly.
“Mmhmm?”
“Here let's get you up and-” he groans loudly. Oh no, he's hurt.
He puts an arm on his back, and scrunches his face as he sits up properly.
He looks up at me. “That hurt” and then he tries to smile, embarassed almost.
“Aw, what did you hit baby?”
Fuck. Oh fuck.
I did not just say that.
“I'm sorry - I just. Yeah, nevermind. Where are you hurt?”
Joel sort of grins a silly grin and says. “The middle of my back. There's a nail sticking out of the wall I think.'
A nail?! Goddamn it.
I move quickly around to his back and face him. He's bleeding! Shit.
“W-what are you doing?” he asks nervously.
“You're bleeding ba- I mean Joel. I need to check how bad it is.”
“No- no! I'm sure it's fine. It's probably fine, leave it!”
I furrow my brow in frustration. Why is he protesting so much?
“No - Joel. Seriously, what if it gets a little infected.”
I pull up his t-shirt, him struggling to get away, and I gasp.
Alongside the nail puncture, which isn't too bad - are red marks, bruises, and scars.
I don't have anything to say, and am frozen - almost mesmerized- by the damage done.
Joel wrenches away from my grasp and pulls his shirt down, then hastily turns around to face me.
“My -” but he falls short. His eyes aren't looking at me. I tilt his chin to face me.
“Go on.”
“My father beats me because I'm gay.”
Rating: 14A? [drug use]
Summary: Joel is a 17 year old addict; Benji is a formerly homeless musician who finds a mysetrious boy right before he blacks out from speed...
Disclaimer: I do not own these people, and these people never did the activities mentioned.
Note: Part deux!
Addict
“Get up”
Errggg, Shut up Lars, let me sleep.
“No.”
”Benji, get the fuck up”
“Fine!” I shout, opening my eyes and flailing about in the sheets, angry at the interruption.
Suddenly I recall the events of last night, and whip my vision to my right. But there is no Joel in sight. I look at Lars and furrow my brow, silently accusing him of throwing him out.
“Relax, our resident drug addict manchild is eating cereal at the table.” He waves his thumb over to the other room, and I catch a glimpse of Joel's dark hair, and an arm holding a spoon moving up and down.
“He's not a manchild, you fuck. Now why am I up? It's only...well what time is it, exactly?” I finish stupidly. What can I say, I am not a morning person.
“It's 10:30 dumbfuck. We need to clean the apartment! - the super is coming today remember? Stupid fucking Tim decided to go down to the office and talk to him last party we had while he was on a cocaine high. Thanks to my so-called best friend we might be evicted now, cause he thinks we may be dealing plenty of narcotics so we have to CLEAN UP!” I've never seen Lars this angry, and he's not the most happy of people in normal circumstances.
Our crappy apartment is very noisy, and we both hear the crunching footsteps into the living room. It's Joel, looking guilty and ashamed.
“I'm - really sorry.” he starts in a small voice. “If I had known today was an important day I would've just left last night. You shouldn't have to deal with idiots like me.”
I don't know why I have such a big soft spot for this kid, but he's just. Different.
I don't dare say anything when Lars is off the wagon though, so I just look at him apprehensive - hoping he doesn't rip Joel apart with a vicious response.
He just sighs. “Yeah, I know we shouldn't have to, but we were kids once too, not that much different from yourself. And at least your sorry - you aren't an idiotic jackass who has no feelings.”
“Still. I feel like I owe you something.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Lars rolling his.
“ If you feel so bad” he starts “- help us.” And with that, Lars walks over to the window, opens it and then grabs a pack of cancers from his pocket and lights up.
“Nice attempt at airing out the apartment,” I tease lightly, trying to break the tension. But all I get is a single glare and a puff puff puff, exhale.
“I guess i'll start by cleaning up the empty boxes...” I walk over to the massive pile of pizza boxes in the corner and cram as many as I can into my arms.
“Can someone get the door?” I ask.
Joel extends an arm to come help, but Lars stops him. “I'll take them. I need to get out for a minute.”
He shoves me over, sticks his cigarette firmly in his open mouth, wrenches the door open along with the boxes from my hands and walks out to go to the garbage.
Awkward silence.
“So....how do you live with that guy?”
---------------------
I didn't intend for the question to sound offensive, but that Lars is fucking mean.
Benji looks at me with his gorgeous brown eyes, but doesn't know what to say.
“Lars isn't....he isn't - always bad.” At least he tried to be defensive.
“Well you both curse at each other like a feuding couple...” I realize I've probably overstepped my boundaries. “But I guess it isn't my place to say that, it's not like I know you. And he let me stay” I add quickly.
“No...” He trails off. “Lars is - he's complicated. He has a lot of baggage from when he was younger. He's seen lots of things and has never really been that content with life to begin with. But I also have known him for such a long time that that's probably the reason we can swear at each other - we're used to it. He's just had a tough time lately cause his best friend, probably ever, is going down the dark path of cocaine abuse. They've never fought before this”
That hits a note with me. I nod, staying silent.
Lars shuffles back into the room. “Why are you just standing there? Fucking Christ.”
Benji, looking scared slightly, grabs the remaining empty boxes and hastily goes out of the apartment, leaving me with the angsty punk who probably hates me.
I don't really know what to do with myself so when I spot a broom in the corner I grab it and begin to sweep. I feel Lars staring at me, so I turn around to face him; but he just nods somewhat satisfied.
After a second or so of sweepity sweeping away, I hear a loud 'sshzzzt' from a nozzle. Aerosol.
I turn to see Lars spraying a generic brand of air freshener and almost yell 'Stop!”
“What?” His faces scrunches in annoyance. “Why?”
“Because that's something that the super will be looking for. A smell to cover up the scent of marijuana or something.”
He contemplates me for a second, and then has the changed mind look.
“Wow, never even crossed my mind.” And he places it back down.
“It's not the first time i've had experience with this kind of thing,” I almost laugh.
“Not the first?”
“Let's just say -” I pause, phrasing the sentence in my head. “ I've had people come into my home looking for drugs before.”
“Been through a lot of shit, huh kid?” Kid. What nerve. He can't be much older than me
“I guess you could say that. And I'm not a kid you know.” I almost bite back.
He chuckles. Chuckles? Really? “You are. You kinda remind me of me actually - only a skinny stick.”
“How am I like you? And I am not a stick!”
“Have you looked in a mirror?” I glare at him, almost forgetting how mad he was before because now i'm getting pissed, but he has a hint of a smile on his face.
Oh, satirical humour, how I hate you.
“To answer the question, you're like me because you have a lot hanging on your shoulders. You've obviously grown up too fast having to deal with some plague or another and it's gotten the best of you. You aren't a drug addict because you have nothing better to do; it's because you have too much. I was the same. I had to take care of my dying mother, while my father drank all our funds away. Then I had to work to save the house - and I used and used to take the edge off, still trying to get to school. I showed up high sure, but I was there. Then Mom got too sick, decided to go to a better place and I left my Dad in his drunken stupor. Ran away at 16 to live with my best friend, and here I am now years later.”
Wow.
Wow.
“We're the unlucky ones kid. The scum that just can't catch a break.” he sighs and goes into the kitchen.
The door creaks open behind me and I turn, hoping it isn't the super. But it's Benji, I almost forgot about him.
I don't know why; he's so goddamn hot. But i'm afraid to ask how old he is, Lars thinking i'm so fucking young. I'm practically an adult, for fucks sake. He won't ever go out with me though....he held my hand yesterday because we both know how it feels, being gay. He thought i'd get offended by him sleeping next to me, him not knowing I am a homo.
I think?
Maybe because I was cracked out and he wanted me to feel better?
I don't know.
“Are you...okay?” the hot one asks me.
“Oh yeah, yeah i'm fine.” I look down at the floor, and realize i'm still clutching the broom. But not...doing anything..with it.
“Um.....k. Well, do you want to help me move the couch? It's actually supposed to be under the window, and our guitars and music junk are supposed to be there, we just moved it all into Lars' room for a party.”
I nod slowly, although i'm cringing inside. I cannot lift things - at all.
Combined with the drugs I take, the cancers I smoke, the ultra-violence I get to endure at 'home', and the fact I barely eat; I just don't have the strength.
Nevertheless, I drop the broom and walk to the couch. It's one of those really cheap couches that weigh a bazillion pounds due to overstuffing to make it seem comfy, and heavy poor quality wood. Yayyy...
I see Benji and his nice muscles firmly grasp his end, so I take my poor excuse for arms and take mine.
“Ready? 1, 2 3” and he grunts as he lifts. I die as I lift.
Okay, this is really hurting me. The bruises on my arms ache, and so do the ones on my calves.
“Benji,” I gasp.
“Joel, we have to move it! Stop standing there.” But he's edging too quickly over to the other side.
“I seriously - can't. Do. This.” I breathe out.
Before I can do anything, i'm almost back up against the wall, Benji holding his end firmly, but losing grip because he's basically holding all the weight.
“Ok, we can put it down.” he says, slightly annoyed.
But he says it a second too late. I attempt one last time to lift up my end, using all my strength when Benji sets his end down.
And it's too much for me. The shock of Benji letting go makes me swing backward and when I hit the wall, a loose nail punctures me in the back.
Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
-------------------------------------
“Shit!” I run over to Joel slumped over, feeling like an idiot.
As I run my eyes over his body, I feel even more idiotic.
His legs are the size of my upper arms I swear to God. Even with skinny jeans on, he's almost swimming in them. And his skinny frame shows through his t-shirt, that's no doubt a small.
I bend down on one knee and touch his shoulder. 'Joel?” I say coaxingly.
“Mmhmm?”
“Here let's get you up and-” he groans loudly. Oh no, he's hurt.
He puts an arm on his back, and scrunches his face as he sits up properly.
He looks up at me. “That hurt” and then he tries to smile, embarassed almost.
“Aw, what did you hit baby?”
Fuck. Oh fuck.
I did not just say that.
“I'm sorry - I just. Yeah, nevermind. Where are you hurt?”
Joel sort of grins a silly grin and says. “The middle of my back. There's a nail sticking out of the wall I think.'
A nail?! Goddamn it.
I move quickly around to his back and face him. He's bleeding! Shit.
“W-what are you doing?” he asks nervously.
“You're bleeding ba- I mean Joel. I need to check how bad it is.”
“No- no! I'm sure it's fine. It's probably fine, leave it!”
I furrow my brow in frustration. Why is he protesting so much?
“No - Joel. Seriously, what if it gets a little infected.”
I pull up his t-shirt, him struggling to get away, and I gasp.
Alongside the nail puncture, which isn't too bad - are red marks, bruises, and scars.
I don't have anything to say, and am frozen - almost mesmerized- by the damage done.
Joel wrenches away from my grasp and pulls his shirt down, then hastily turns around to face me.
“My -” but he falls short. His eyes aren't looking at me. I tilt his chin to face me.
“Go on.”
“My father beats me because I'm gay.”