Just To Get High
Simone was gone. It seemed she was their only link because when her life ended, Peter never returned to see the artist; Isaac Mendez. It wasn't only that, though. It was guilt. Both males blamed themselves for her death, and in some way, it was due to them both that she no longer lingered. Isaac had pulled the trigger, but Peter had led his aim directly to her.
Heaving a sigh, the male rolled over in his bed, his hair shielding his view for a moment before he pushed it aside roughly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning into the darkness of his small roomed apartment before Peter finally convinced his muscles to move and he sat himself up, walking to the fridge and bringing the milk out, tipping it over a glass and groaning as chunks flooded out. Pinching his nose, he washed it down the sink and picked up his wallet, shoving it into his back pocket and slipping a pair of shoes on.
Stepping out into the dimly lit streets, he rubbed his hands together, his breath floating up in a mist due to the cold air. Continuing on his way toward a convenience store, he paused as he passed an alleyway, the street lamb above flickering on and off, though the light was well enough to illuminate the collapsed body.
"Isa-…Isaac!?"
Without another thought, Peter ran toward the collapsed body, shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it around the shivering figure, checking his pulse and bringing a hand up to pull back a lid revealing the deeply bloodshot eyes.
"Shit," Peter cursed, Isaac had been using again. And from the looks of it, it was heavy usage. Sliding an arm around Isaac, he lifted him with effort, stumbling under his weight though after a few minutes he managed to get Isaac back into his apartment and lay the male upon the couch, turning up the heating and covering him in blankets, sighing to himself.
It wasn't his problem, but the others expression was far too much to handle. He looked broken. Forlorn. Empty. And above all, abandoned. Staring at the heavy breathing body, surprised when the other began to rise, but not at all surprised at the pure hatred in his eyes.
"Why did you bring me here," He bit out, shoving the covers from his body, wincing when Peter replaced them with a hardened expression. "What? You'd rather I leave you to die?" Peter insisted, holding the covers back over the male with a scowl.
"Yes! Get off me!" Isaac snapped, shoving Peter back, glaring as the smaller male struggled to keep the covers on him, going as far as throwing a leg over Isaac's waist above the blankets and pinning him down. "I'm not letting you die, alright?" Peter muttered, Isaac scoffing, "You think this'll get you off the hook for killing Simone!" He growled, struggling beneath the blankets.
"I'm staying here so long as it takes, I'm going to help you. It's not about Simone, I'm not just going to let a person kill themselves," Peter forced out, relief filling him as Isaac begun to relax under the covers, no matter how reluctantly.
Climbing off the couch, Peter sighed, collapsing into a small chair, his face in his hands. "I didn't kill Simone…" He murmured under his breath, Isaac choosing not to respond as he settled himself amongst the blankets, his body still shaking from head to toe, the icy cold feeling within his body rather than on his skin. The drugs were a release from his guilt as well as a condemnation. Hopefully to death.
"Why?" Isaac croaked, "Why would you save me? I want to die-I'm just going to keep taking, there's nothing you can do to stop me," He muttered, Peter sighing heavily. "I met lots of people like you in the hospital, thinking you're so tough by taking, trying to drown your problems because you're too pathetic to deal with them-" Peter continued, halted as the older male climbed off the couch and his fist collided with Peter's cheek, his shoulders rising and falling with rough breaths.
"You don't know anything!" He shouted, lifting Peter by the front of his shirt and slamming him against a wall, glaring at him angrily. "You're just proving I was right," Peter scoffed, grimacing as he was hit once more, the pain replaced with a warmth as Isaac's breath came out against his throat in heavy breaths and he felt bumps rise upon his own skin, his body tensing.
"I want to give up," Isaac muttered softly, and Peter could hear the resignation. "For her, for me," Isaac trailed on, "But I'm not strong enough-What do I have to stop me from doing it? Who? There's nothing in my life that's as good as drugs…" He muttered quietly, Peter sighing and glancing up at the male, "You've got to make something, meet people. It'll get better. I can't promise it won't be shit, but things can always get better," He murmured in an attempt to comfort the other, feeling the hand loosen at his shirt.
Isaac nodded quietly, his eyes reaching Peter's and without a word he jerked the other forward into a rough kiss, his free hand moving to Peter's waist and bringing their hips together in a frenzy of lust, desire and desperation lingering in his movements and without thinking, Peter silently agreed, returning the kiss with an equal desire.
The night was filled with more than either male could comprehend, both craving the security. The familiarity. It was almost as if for that night they had something to hold onto.
Panting, Peter curled against Isaac's chest, the arms around him more comfortable than he cared to admit. "You're like a drug, Petrelli," Isaac muttered into his ear, his fingers clutching the other tightly, leaning forward to trail his tongue along the bruise he'd left on Peter's neck, nipping at the flesh before leaning back into the blankets, his eyes closing as he sensed the other had trailed off.
The next morning came too soon. Peter's wallet was gone, and he didn't doubt what the money was for, but there was a note in scrawled writing.
'I can't give the drugs up. And you're the worst of them.'
Sighing, Peter slipped off to the shower, not at all surprised when Isaac arrived a few hours later that night, the lingering smell of drugs around him, arrived only to partake of another drug.