Hello everyone! I've been feeling really down lately due to my recent relapse, so I just wanted to find a way to express myself, I guess. So yeah, here it is! I actually went to the drugstore today to buy more first-aid stuff for myself, so whatever I have written is based on my experience. :) Do let me know if I should continue with the story!
P.S. I might have started on this but I won't be abandoning my other story, Suicide King, just that updates are slow due to the fact that school's started. Thank you for reading, please review/favourite/follow if you like my story. :D
The familiar sign of the drugstore comes into Antonio's view.
He is used to it by now; used to walking down the same path and going past the same shops, and the tightening in his chest does nothing to slow him down. After all, it has always been there – the way his heart seems to feel heavier as he approaches the drugstore with its shelves of bandages and plasters. Perhaps, in the beginning, his entire mind had once been occupied by flashes of everything – splashes of red and glints of silver – but habit had transformed those into a state of numbness. Habit had changed most of him, apparently. As Antonio approaches the shop, the only thing that he thinks of is whether he will be able to get one of those discounted bundles with two hundred plasters.
He steps into the shop, and his gaze sweeps over the interior emotionlessly. He takes in the advertisements for the latest health supplements stuck onto the cream-coloured walls and the neatly lined-up beauty products before making a beeline for the shelf at the back. Just like he always does.
Antonio scans the rows of first-aid products, feeling the usual passivity take over as he calmly searches for the brand that he normally picks. When he is desperate, he grabs anything, even the ones that are too big to hide and the ones for sensitive skin that stand out, strips of white against his tanned skin. But today is not one of those days. Today Antonio's emotions are a flat line, though he can feel the tension there and he's glad for that because he knows he's got something to unleash later.
Finally, he grabs two boxes and makes a move towards the cashier, feeling a twisted sense of happiness that they did have the discounted bundles with two hundred plasters. He figures two hundred plasters could last him for about a few months, depending. He used to buy gauze and surgical tape, but then it had been too conspicuous and Francis had found out about his "problem". That had led to a one-time trip to the therapist and several arguments between them, until Gilbert had stepped in. Antonio sometimes believes that Gilbert might just be the mature one out of them after all.
There is a stranger at the counter, someone Antonio has never seen before. It's not the bored-looking lady, or the fat man with the not-so-well-hidden porn magazines, or the overly-excited girl with the bright pink braces. It's a young man, with auburn hair half-obscuring his face as his attention remains glued to something on his lap. Antonio can guess that the man's drawing something for his hands are moving vigorously back and forth, back and forth, and he stands there for a moment, hypnotized by the light scratching of pencil on paper and captivated by the way the man's nametag catches the light: Lovino, it says, and the monotonous line in his mind peaks as he catches himself thinking about how nice a name it is.
Antonio decides to lean over the counter, and catches a glimpse of what the man is drawing. It's another man; someone tall with dark curls and wearing plain-looking clothes, reaching out for a box – Wait.
The person Lovino has been sketching lets out a breath he had not realised he had been holding, and the other man jerks his head up, shoving the sketchbook and his pencil under the counter in one quick motion.
"Fuck, what do you want?"