My vague attempt at Libs fic. For all who don't know, Sankeys is a proper nasty night club in Manchester where you pick up drugs from Shady McUntrustworthy, a bloke you've never met before and will break your knuckles soon as look at you. Piccadilly Gardens is a sort of big common, with shops around the outside. Sorry for the Manchester.
"Hey, mate!"
The figure on the floor stirs slightly. "Mate, you all right?"
I lean over him and move him onto his back. It takes me only a second to recognise him. "Pete! Oh, God, Pete, mate..." His hair is messed up and greasy, his lips parted slightly, his nose inflamed and covered in off-white paste. I pull open his eyes and recoil at the extremely dilated pupils. "Peter," I whisper, "Talk to me. Say something."
He smiles slightly. "Carlos..."
"Oh, Peter. What are you doing in Manchester, mate?" I squint up at the floodlights illuminating Piccadilly Gardens.
"K...Kate broke up wiv me."
"In Manchester?"
"Nah...the nightlife's good, apparently."
"Oh, God. You didn't go to Sankeys, did you?" He nods moreosely "Why are you 'ere?"
I shake my head. I can't tell him the real reason- the depression, the cutting, the fear- and those pictures in the magazines him with his arm around Kate, a lopsided grin around his face, the grin he used to give me, the grin I lived for. I can't tell him I regret kicking him out of The Libs. I can't tell him how much I need him. I can't tell him...I love him. Not just mate-love him, but love him with a passion, I love him so much it hurts...
"I was just here, all right? C'mon, let's get you in a taxi. You can stay at my place."
I pull him up and he leans on my shoulder, legs quivering. "C'mon, Peter. It's going to be OK from now on..."