posted to jslash but it got no love
Below The Influence
Joick
PG-13
As life gets longer, awful feels softer and it feels pretty soft to me. And if it takes shit to make bliss, then I feel pretty blissfully- Modest Mouse, “The View”
a/n: Companion piece to B’s latest. Been awhile since I’ve written but maybe that cause I’m too busy fucking up my life to really write anything. And to think that things were going so well
Peace.
--
You’re pretty sure you could hold the title for “World’s Largest Asshole” and still be positive that even that isn’t a fair enough title for what you are.
You woke up again with your shoes half on and your clothes rumpled. Your hair sticks to your forehead at all angles and you can’t remember if it’s straight, or curly. It doesn’t matter because your head is fucking splitting itself open. You groan and roll off your bed and onto the floor, it’s not that far away. You land on top of Garbo.
What the fuck?
Last night isn’t really that clear, but you remember David calling you to come out to some party and you texted Garbo and said you’d be picking him up in fifteen and that he’d better have “that smoke and dat drank mother fucka!”
He did
He always does
It’s pretty much the only thing you can rely on him to have. You wonder sometimes why you guys are so close. But then he makes you laugh and it’s all good and you guess you love him, the stupid fucker
Nick’s standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and a look on his face. You know he’s judging you
Even if he says he’s not
You just roll your eyes and play it off easy, plaster that shit-eater grin on and stumble into the bathroom next door. When you come out, Nick hands you Advil and stalks away.
You’ll apologize to him later
You always do
Maybe cause he always says he forgives you
--
You love Nick
You think that’s your biggest sin
Next to the drinking…
And the drugs
And the “lifestyle”
As Nicky so kindly calls it
You can’t really put your finger on why exactly you live like this. Behind that constant visage of goody-goody two shoes when really, you can’t see straight let alone think for all the shit you’re putting into your body.
You guess you like the buzz, the feel, like everything is getting pushed away. You like the deep conversations and the way you can say whatever you want to whomever you want.
You don’t like thinking that that’s the only reason you tell Nick you love him anymore
Mainly cause you can’t fuckin tell
And that’s just fucking pathetic
--
You forget to call Nick when you’re out on nights like those
Nights with the boys
Forget, or you call too much
Like when it’s just you and Andy, smoking bowls and driving around with nowhere to go, and you can’t stop calling Nick. Like every five minuets and you tell him everything that’s going on around you and you laugh, extra loud and ramble on about how Andy can’t drive and how it’s almost like Nick’s with you in the car if you just focus on his voice.
You like that way of thinking
But Nick gets this edge to his words and with your high comes this perception to read people more than you would like, more than they would like, and you know he’s disappointed. You can just feel it, even over the phone line.
He denies it when you call him out on it
He says he’s used to it by now, that you never call him sober anymore, so he doesn’t mind
Fuckin liar
You hate him cause he’s right
You text when you’re sober and call when you’re not
What a baby
You hate yourself, even long after you’ve hung up
--
You’ve long ago put away the possibilities of staying clean; you’ve long ago decided that you don’t really care because, fuck, you know you’re addicted, you know you need help
But you still pride yourself on the small things
Like that you’ve probably bought the weed you smoke about twice in your life, or that you only bought a pack of Newports once and even then, you had Drake get them for you. And you kindofneverreally buy the drink unless Garbo or Ryan asks you to put up.
You kind of get carried and bum off your friends but they don’t really care and you spot them right back so you guys all end up even
You used to wish that Nick would just fuckin kick back and relax; smoke with you or something cause he’s always been an awkward kid and you just want him to have a good time when he comes out with you.
You don’t think he ever would
And now you realize that you and Nick are two completely different people and thats awesome in so many ways and horrible in all the rest.
You stop asking Nick to come out with you and work on trying to be sober whenever you two do spend time together
It works for the most part
Sometimes…
You don’t think he can tell the difference anymore
--
The two of you hung out with Garbo the other day, before that huge party some guys you kind of know, were throwing and Garbo’s pumped and so are you and you just can’t wait to get there but you wanna see Nick cause you haven’t in so long and so you call him and he laughs and he meets you and Garbo at the mall.
It’s nice, Nick spots you a few bucks for the shirt you really want-he’s always loaning you money cause you’re always broke-and you guys drive around and end up at a music store.
It’s really nice, you share headphones and Garbo makes Nick laugh and it’s cool and when Nick leaves he thrusts this awesome scarf and a fat stack of letters at you.
The scarf smells just like him, like vanilla and warm and Garbo smiles at you when you make him smell it
“That’s nice dude, real nice. Good kid, good kid,”
It makes you smile really wide, really super wide and punch Garbo in the arm when he makes a kissy face at you
You’re blushing all kinds of red and you know you love Nick
For serious
--
That night at the party, you don’t drink. You don’t get high, and maybe you do have a few drags off Garbo’s cigarette but you’re driving and you’re looking after Garbo and Jack and Bella, so you’re not about to risk it. When Jack remembers that he forget his ID, you sigh and huff but you drive him back to his flat to get it and by the time you return, Garbo and Bella are gone
Falling and stumbling, they laugh and pass you a bottle of Jack Daniels
You take one swig-just cause you need it to deal with them-and pretend to drink more
You don’t though
For Nicky
Inside the venue, you dance and wine your way through the crowd and rap a bit when Darnell pulls you up on stage and it’s a good time
Until someone pulls the fire alarm
And then you’re freaking out and grabbing Jack and trying to get Garbo to lose the girl tangled around him and you can’t find Bella anywhere. Then someone calls you phone and you manage to hear “Bella” and “passed out” and so you’re running.
Pushing people out of the way and Jack’s with you and Garbo’s not and you reach her and just take over. All that training from babysitting class and the summers you worked as a lifeguard flooding back to you and you stay hyped on adrenaline until you crash in the hospital, in the hard backed chair next to her bed,
You don’t even remember how you got there, just going really fast and yelling at people till your throat felt raw.
You manage to text Nick-because your sober-and he says he loves you and you think you say it back but when you check in the morning.
You didn’t
--
Nick writes a song that talks about feeling betrayed and upset and unsure and worst of all, in love.
You read it over and over
Once out loud and once in your head
You know by the second line that it’s about you
You feel lower than dirt
Is that even possible?
The next time you look in the mirror you can pretty much see one of those “Hello! My name is…” stickers stuck to your forehead.
This one as plain as day:
“Hello! My name is Joseph “I hurt the people I love most cause I’d rather get high” Jonas”
You can’t even convince yourself that it isn’t true
You just keep seeing yourself in one of those Above the Influence ads that you always laugh at
Too bad that it takes till now for you to finally see how much you’ve really lost
All because of your goddamn lifestyle