NOTES: Johnny's drug-induced stream-of-consciousness while at a party. As I was writing this, I realized it pretty much works for either real!Jimmy or imaginary!Jimmy, so that part's up to your interpretation. Still working on drabbles and the DFTIHTWNGDI. Reviews are appreciated. : )
RATING: T for sex, language, and drugs
CHARACTERS: Johnny and Jimmy
Ashes
Right after I shoot up, someone turns the lights off. As pure ecstasy washes over my body and I seem to float above the couch, someone's lighter flicks on in front of me. The tiny orange cloud it makes seems like the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, drawing me into it from far away – it does look so far away. I don't realize my hand is reaching out until my fingers start prickling with the weirdest pain I've ever felt. All the beauty in my veins tells my body it isn't supposed to feel pain – fire isn't pain – all I should feel is beautiful.
That's what the drugs do – they remove those instincts, those little voices that say "this could be potentially dangerous" – they gag them back and replace them with the voices that say "to hell with danger" and they tell you to just fucking do it – do it all, because how could anything not be beautiful right now? They make you want to touch – touch everything you see, and if it's dark, touch everything – let your eyes believe your hands because nothing feels like it ever has but everything feels as beautiful as you know it should. That's all I want – to reach out and find and feel – to touch air and fire and leather and skin – yes – yes, skin – whose skin, whose lips, whose hair – his hair – his hands, all down, down – yes, hands reach out – reach out to find me now – his hands – his nails – his teeth in my skin – only beauty bleeds out, bleeds away – his hands – his legs – they hold me in the fire – I'm burning – I'm burning away and it's so beautiful – he's beautiful – I'm beautiful – my body is beautiful – my body is burning – I burn him where I touch his skin – he touches mine – he drinks in the fire – my veins, my skin, my breath spill their beauty out – out – into his skin – his lips – his hands burn on my arms – my neck – my face – my soul –
"…burn together…"
"What?" His breath steams on my cheek.
Suddenly, bright – color – different fire – not beautiful, not dark… The lights are back on – he laughs – legs leave mine, hands, lips, nails all leave – can't see right – can't feel right – beauty is becoming less – less, less…less…stuck in between… Colors swim, explode in my eyes – I lie down, eyes shut tight, holding in the dying fire – beautiful fire…
I lie there and wait until I cool into ash. The fire fades, but I keep my eyes shut…everything's so slow…so heavy, and the dark is so lovely and the couch is so soft… Next thing I know, it's been an hour or more…
"Hey, Johnny…" His voice is standing over me… "C'mon, bitch, get up." His words are slurred and his hand tugs at my arm. I whine in protest, but he drags me up. "Get the fuck up…everyone left…"
Great…so a lot more than an hour… My eyes and feet and everything else feel heavy and my fingertips are finally throbbing and I think the teeth marks on my shoulder are bleeding. He throws my arm over his shoulders and steers me out the door. I don't want him touching me…nothing feels like it should anymore…but I can't help it somehow…I guess it feels okay…okay… We're both stumbling and swearing and, for some reason, laughing a little by the time we get home…still stuck in a comedown limbo…trailing bits of ash down the darkened streets.