Morphine. Heaven on the brain. The devil in the flesh.
By the time he realized he was being eaten alive, he was so fucking in love that he couldn't stop.
He was lying in the white room, shivering, and thinking about how many hours until he could go get his prescription. Two and a half. Two and a half. Two ana half. That would be fun.
Jude had offered to take him to see Lucy. But he didn't see why he should go. He didn't want to make fake conversation about things he didn't care about.
He thought about going over to the closet to get another coat, because he was freezing. But it was such a pain. And his face itched, but he couldn't scratch it because he wouldn't be able to stop. And his face would get red and swollen.
He snuggled deeper into the covers. He could kind of see pictures on the wall, if he wanted to. Like little girls skipping with red balloons or blue puppies in hats.
And if he embraced the pain, held the want inside him so tight his skin shuddered, he could love that, too. Because he knew it would stop. In two and a half hours.
He fell into a daze and was awoken by a knock on the door. He pretended to be asleep, but the knocker entered anyway.
"Max?" Jude asked. His voice was soft, like a warm wash cloth.
Max sighed to signify he was awake. "I thought you went...with Lucy," Max murmured to the wall. He rolled around on the bed, so he could see Jude. His blue eyes blinked lazily. His overgrown blonde hair was spread across the pillow
Jude was leaning on the bookshelf, with his arms crossed and his jaw set. "No, I thought I'd stay and talk to you," Jude replied.
"Oh. I'm just gonna to sleep until I go to the doctor," Max sighed, cuddling into the mound of covers.
"You went this morning," Jude reminded him.
Max's eyes snapped open. "No, I didn't," he growled. "That was yesterday." His shoulders squared as he peered at Jude.
"No. It was this morning," Jude repeated. "That's why you're high as a kite right now."
"Hey, remember Mr. Kite?" Max stammered, wriggling up so that he was sitting. He pulled one of the thick blankets over his narrow shoulders. "Remember that?"
"Yeah, Max," he nodded, looking away.
Max lowered his eyebrows. "Don't be mad at me," he warned.
"I'm not mad at you," Jude shrugged jerkily. His dark eyes flashed.
"Oh, come on," Max growled, biting his nails. "You're being an asshole-" Max picked up a pillow and lamely pegged it onto the floor. He froze. "You'll still take me to the doctor, though, won't you?"
"You went this morning," Jude pressed, annoyed.
"I have to go again," Max maintained. His lip twitched. "I think they must have given me the wrong dose urr something."
"You're slurring," Jude said with disgust.
Max pulled himself up in the bed and said, with all the venom his position would allow, "Fuck you."
Jude flinched. "Whatever, Max."
"Whatever, Jude," Max mimicked. Jude sucked in his breath, willing himself not to get angry. He tried to exit the room, but stopped himself.
He turned and looked at Max, who was starting to slump on the bed. The fury in his blue eyes was unwinding, and he looked lost and alone. "Max," Jude said. Max looked up, eyes glazing over. "You need to stop."
Max flinched. "You don't understand," he mumbled to himself, picking at a thread on the quilt.
"What?" Jude demanded.
Max looked up, quivering, as if he were surprised to find Jude there. Max shook his head. "I can't stop," he said. The words wrapped around him like a mantra.
"Yes, you can," Jude said. His dark eyes bore into Max. He swallowed.
"No. I can't," Max repeated. He spoke so stonily that he threw a tiny laugh in at the end, to lighten the mood.
"Why not?" Jude bit his bottom lip.
Max toyed with the thread, flicking it with his pointer finger. He spoke softly, with his eyes lowered. "Because I don't want to." He glanced quickly up at Jude before hiding his eyes again. His veins were starting to burn, coming to life in a way he wasn't used to anymore. After morphine, regular living was too hard to take. It hurt to be sad, and even worse to be happy.
Jude couldn't think. He'd ignored the signs for weeks; it had been so gradual. Just a slightly sick feeling, a little off-balance, as Max slowly disappeared. His cheeks hollowed and he spoke less. He rubbed his face a lot and soaked for hours in the tub. And he cuddled up against Jude on the sofa, shivering, and nodded off without finishing his cigarette. There was something almost seductive about it. The helplessness and the listless eyes. The way everything was always alright.
Until one morning, when Jude woke up to find Max dying. He was sitting in the shower, staring at the wall. There was a bottle of milk next to him, and the water pinged through the mouth and swirling with the thicker milk. And Max was mumbling to himself about bugs and how he was going to die. Jude had tried to get him to leave the shower, to go to the doctor, anything. But Max said that if he left the shower, his skin would dry out and the bugs would eat him. The bugs from the bad heroin he'd bought off his taxi driver friend. He spent six hours in the cold water before he came to his senses enough to sleep. And he swore to Jude that he would never take opiates again. But he did. Again and again. He stopped asking Jude for help when things went wrong. And some night, Jude could hear him muttering, or shivering, or crying. And there was nothing Jude could do about it.
Jude wasn't around enough. He worked at a studio now, and spent the rest of his time with Lucy at Sarah Lawrence. Sadie and Jojo were with the band; Prudence was doing a show with Rita. Everyone was moving on, doing other things. At first, Jude had been too busy to notice that Max was the only one who had stayed the same. He didn't want to go anywhere, and he didn't want to do anything. Jude got the feeling he didn't believe in things anymore. Maybe he never had. He'd always been on the run, never wanting to grow up. Never wanting anything in particular. Jude watched him on the bed. Pale, slim as a bone and beautiful. His long, mangy hair crossed over his eyes as he continued to pick at the quilt. Pick, pick, pick.
In that moment, Jude felt that he would do anything for. Him. He felt his heart stretch beneath his chest, clawing at his shoulders. "I love you, Max Carrigan," he muttered.
Max peered up, grinning impishly, so the green in his eyes flashed in the light. Then he looked back down at the quilt, and kept picking.
I've already written the next part. It includes the rest of the gang & I will post it soon.