A/N: Sorry for the wait everybody, school's been a bitch and this chapter was giving me some trouble.
Obligatory Disclaimer: Four Brothers is still not mine (damnit!) and neither is Marty Casey (though I have plans...oh do I have plans...) and the Lovehammers or the lyrics to Eyes Can't See.
Warning: Drug use and m/m sexual content are present in this chapter.
And around, and around, and around we go...
Aperture, Chapter 4
And the room is growing smaller
There's no answer when I call him now
And you gently guide the door closed until the click of the lock pierces through the silence of the night and through your heightened senses it sounds like the detonation of a grenade exploding in your ears.
Fuck Jack, hurry up! I'm jonesing like shit over here.
And you roll your eyes and smirk at Chris' impatience and the way his body is twitching and the sweat is streaming down his face and you turn and saunter to the futon that now resides in the corner of the room that your old bed used to occupy and you heft the cushion until you are able to reach the plastic bag that lays wedged between the mattress and cold, steel skeleton of the structure and you give it a yank to bust it free of the confines.
You want it so damn quick then you'd better find me a new pen.
And you can hear him throwing shit around as he frantically searches for a pen while you pull the supplies from the worn bag and the aluminum foil crunches loudly as you search for an unscorched section and the lighter drops absently onto the futon as you reach for the baggie of finely cut powder and shuffle some onto the foil and you stand up for better access to the similar baggie that rests in the pocket of your tight, ripped jeans and as you extract it you tone out the curses from across the room as the completion of a simple task eludes the twitching Chris.
Hurry up Chris, it's ready.
And the contents of the new are mixed with the contents of the old and the lighter now remembered rests in your hand as you turn to Chris who has a toothy grin plastered across his face and more importantly a pen in his hand and you snatch it rudely from his quaking hand and twist the tip off before impatiently shaking the internal contents onto the floor until you are left with only a hollowed tube and you sigh.
Here we go.
And you position yourself securely on the floor with your back against the wall and your knees bents and you drag your thumb across the serrated edges of the lighter wheel before giving it a spin and you watch the flame dance and sway and you can see Chris moving to sit next to you as you position the flame under the aluminum foil below the mixture and you bring the hollowed pen to your lips and inhale, letting the fumes take you.
My eyes can't see
What is wrong with me
My world is spinning round
And I'm lost again, lost again
And the euphoria sweeps across your body and you can feel everything bad seeping out of your body through your pores and into the vast air around you and for the first time since your last hit you feel whole and good and the pain of loneliness and hurt and regret are unknown and if you could stay like this forever and never come down and be forced to face the confines of reality you would in a heartbeat and your euphoric thoughts are interrupted by the happy jabbering of Chris next to you.
Shut up Chris, you're gonna wake up the whole damn house.
And even that doesn't really bother you because nothing can reach you here where your heart pounds quick and rhythmically in your chest and you can't see exactly straight and the passage of time eludes you but as the initial force of the coke plateaus into a blurring relaxation you feel the familiar pull at your groin and it doesn't surprise you in the least because coke always makes you horny and all get out and your pants are feeling entirely too tight and you have to stifle a moan as you push the heel of your hand against the bulging denim.
Need some help with that?
And you swivel your head to meet Chris' eyes and you just stare because you had no idea that Chris swung that way and he must have taken that as a yes because his hand snakes towards you and strokes you through the thick denim of your jeans and he's moving to position himself between you're bent legs and he releases the button and slowly undoes the zipper and you're free and suddenly enveloped in hot moisture and
Holy Fuck.
And your glad he's holding you down by the hips as you start to move with him and you throw your head back against the wall and bite your lip to stifle the grunts and moans that want release and he's humming now and you're going to come undone way too soon if he doesn't stop that and you figure that you might as well enjoy this to the fullest so you close your eyes and imagine that it's Bobby who's sucking you off and that it's Bobby's hair that you've got your fingers wrapped in and as Bobby moves quicker your hips buck faster to match his pace and god this feels so good.
Fuck Bobby, I'm gonna come…
And Bobby backs off and you let go of his hair and reach down to finish the job off yourself and as the force of the orgasm subsides you look up to meet Bobby's eyes and you remember where you are and that the guy who was sucking you off wasn't Bobby but Chris and he's sitting on his knees in front of you and he's staring at you with a look that you can't quite read.
Who's Bobby?
And you're sure that your eyes are the size of dinner plates until you remember that Bobby left before you met Chris which means he's never met Bobby and you haven't talked about Bobby since he left so you can relax and you try but you can't and you're not sure why but you want Chris out of your house right now.
Get the fuck out.
And you can read the hurt on his face because you're supposed to be friends and you know it's not nice or right but you don't care and he's still just sitting there and you know you shouldn't kick him out when he's still got the drugs going full force in his system but you don't care about that right now all you care about is that he is out of your house.
I said get the fuck out!
And you feel vulnerable and embarrassed sitting on the floor spent and hanging out so you tuck yourself in and push yourself to your feet and grab Chris' coat and throw it at him with hopes that he gets the point that you aren't fucking kidding and by the look on his face you think he does as he catches the coat and stalks from the room and you sink to the ground as you hear the front door slam.
The further you run
The harder I'll try
To bring you back
Into my life
And you can feel the euphoric feeling of the cocaine fading and the dullness of the heroin slipping in to take its place as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around them and hope that Chris won't mention this at school or to any of your friends because they know Bobby and you don't think you can lose the few friends you have right now and if you do you'll be sinking faster than you already are without Bobby.
Fuck.
And you can feel your throat beginning to close and your eyes blink to fend off the tears threatening to fall and you bite your lip to stifle the sobs and you begin to rock and sway as if it has the power to fend off the pain that radiates through your body as images of Bobby and the night Bobby left shift through your brain and you can see his silhouette walking from your room as you sit in much the same place where you now sit and the pain is no lesser now than the moment when it occurred.
Why'd you leave Bobby? Why did you leave me here alone?
And you're pretty sure that when he left he didn't think that he was leaving you alone and you hope that he didn't but whether he knew it or not he did and you're not sure that you can forgive him for that and you can see what the drugs are doing to your brain and you can see their effects every time you walk by a mirror and glance at the rotting skeleton that stands there and you want Bobby to see what his leaving has done to you and you want him to come home so he can see what he's done and so that he can hear the pain he's put you through as you scream at him one last time before you die and your blood will be on his hands when you're gone.
I want you to come home Bobby, I need you to come home and need me.
And you know deep down inside that the reason that you want him to come home is so he can hold you in his arms and tell you that he needs you and that he loves you and to look into your eyes and see the love that radiates back at him one last time before you're gone because this is the long way down.
My eyes can't see
What's in front of me
Should of learned by now but
Here I am; Here I am
And you should have never let yourself get attached to him and you've known since you were 7 years old that getting attached is the worst fucking thing you can do but he felt so warm and safe and he told you that you could trust him but that turned out to be a crock of shit the same as much of your life has and you want that feeling back the feeling that you get when he walks in the room and glances your way and looks you in the eye like nobody else does and you know that those feeling are still beneath the surface as strong as ever but that they have transformed into pain that will remain unchanged until he comes back or you die and as it looks right now the latter will come first and you can't help but to welcome it at times like these when you know that nobody will ever mean to you what Bobby does.
Help me learn to help myself
I can depend on…
No one else.
I'm a little nervous about the reactions I'm going to get to this chapter...
Racquet.