A long thin needle pierced my yellowing skin and I sucked in a deep breath in anticipation for what was to come. A wave of heat washed over me within seconds, nothing like the fire that marred my once flawless skin in my games, no, this was like a warm blanket tucking in your toes from a chilly night. It was a dull in my constant worries, my tired eyes finally getting a break from the day.
The room around me dimmed slightly as my vision impaired. The deep burgundy couch I was draped across seemed more comfortable then than it had ever been. The room creaked pleasantly, the quiet consuming everything. In any other circumstance it would have felt heavy and deafening, but at that moment, in my state, I relished in it. My labored breaths slowed to a peaceful, steady pace, my fluttering heart followed suit.
Until he came.
He never does anything quietly. When he arrives, he makes sure it's with a bang. The dark steel door slid open and he stomped through the thresh hold like he owned the place. His coloring was harsh against the bleak appearance of the room. He wore bright colors, a blue that day. I could see the disappointed look on his face; the one he reserves specially for me. His eyebrows furrowed and his green eyes squinted as if he struggled to see. His mouth pulled downward in a frown, twitching like he desperately wanted to say something. His skin paled, losing most of the color from his face. I knew he dreaded seeing me like this.
"You left the syringe in your arm." He never mentioned it in the way I knew he wanted to. He always dealt with me when I was like this. He calmly strode to my side and gingerly removed the foreign object from underneath my skin. His hair shone gold in that light, and my fingers ached to touch it.
He sunk down beside me on the couch and pulled me closer, allowing my wandering arm to find its nesting place near the base of his neck, tugging lightly on the short wavy hair that resided there. In his eyes, I saw stars and his heart glowed a deep green blue that pounded like the ocean during a hurricane.
"Finn," I started, my words slurring more than I intended. They always did. His eyes flitted over my face, judging my lucidity.
"Don't speak right now, Al. You're not thinking straight." The same thing he always said. He was wrong. This was the only time I could think straight. During the day, thoughts flowed throughout my mind freely, tangling together in the mess that was my brain. Morphling washed a calm over me. I couldn't think, my mind was mostly blank, thoughts drifted aimlessly, going nowhere. That was how I liked it.
The night went as all others of the same kind did. Finn held me, while I stroked his hair. When my haze wore off, neither of us knew, we'd both been asleep by then.
