Oh my lovelies, I know this review didn't come as fast—or maybe it did and I'm just insane—and for that I apologize. Alright so I know this chapter isn't the most interesting but one single part of it is key to the rest of the story—it's Ferb's first time doing heroin. Of course in the sequel to HC—Free Bird—which is in Ferb's point of view you'll get a more in depth look at what he's thinking, but yes, tis important! Next chapter will be much more eventful I promise! And man Shine On You Crazy Diamond, the lyrics to that song just describe Ferb with ridiculous perfection. Anyways please review, you know it's what keeps me going!
~~Mick~~!
Disclaimer: Depressingly enough P&F and Shine On You Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd aren't mine!
Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom,
Blown on the steel breeze.
Come on you target for faraway laughter,
Come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!
March 2009
By the looks of it the drug seemed no better than amphetamine. It came in a pencil-eraser sized tar black glob that reminded me of mouse shit. "This is what all the fucking fuss was about?" Ferb scoffed, twitching his upper lip into a grotesque sneer. "I keep telling myself not to listen to you anymore Jeet but lo and behold I do every time…"
"Oh fuck off" Baljeet rolled hazed eyes back. "Trust me you'll like it."
Ferb stared at the tiny, moldy, reveled-for-it's-power drug with a most curious expression. "It's only that…I thought it would be beautiful." Stranger and stranger I tell you, along with his innumerable pieces of costume jewelry he'd added a nineteenth century class. Even as we sat congregated around Buford's apartments' stained coffee table he was decked out in full dress. A pinstriped and tailed black suit jacket, dusty blue jeans, fancy leather boots that laced up ever so delicately, a thick pearl choker and to toss the cherry on top he'd taken to wearing Fedora's. "I thought it would be more beautiful…"
"Oi" Mason was—unfortunately—staying with us as a permanent fixture. Paul Sedgwick—the producer and salesman virtuoso we were starting to see less and less of—had ruled that our manager should watch over the progress of our second album. "Is it jus' me or is 'e skinnier every time I see 'im?"
Ferb's eyes smoldered from under the brim of his grey tweed chapeau. "If you're not skinny you're not beautiful."
"Anorexia and insanity aren't beautiful Ferb." I growled under my breath. He-thank the Lord-neglected to hear my spiteful slur and continued checking the tar-black goo out. Jeet cued into my comment though, chuckled and planted a soggy kiss on my cheek.
"Goodnight" Nobody showed any sign of confusion at Ferb's bizarre statement because it was no weirder than what usually came out of his mouth those days. We all watched in somber silence as he took the drug, a cotton sponge, a syringe and a spoon with him into the bathroom. But none of us did anything to stop him. That was the beginning of the end. And fucking none of us did anything to stop him. "H-hey Phin" Ferb's hat and mullet peeked out from behind the beige door. "Help me?"
I blinked over exaggeratedly—he was speaking to me? "A-alright"
"Phin" Baljeet tugged the hem of my jeans, a pleading look on his soft brown face. "Phin don't."
But I did. I padded—sock feet—into the washroom and smiled at the sight of Ferb sitting Indian-legged on the closed toilet seat. He was melting the drug—the heroin—by the flickering fire of a pink Bic lighter beneath an old spoon. He soaked the golden liquid—and fuck it was beautiful now—up with the cotton pad and then in turn sucked that up with the syringe. "Here, I can't bloody do it." He pinched the needle between two long and narrow fingers; holding the object out to me in disgust. "I can't do it to myself Phin." Ferb never had been fond of injections. I took the syringe curiously, looking from it to his expectant emerald eyes. "Well?"
"Well…" I inhaled deeply "Well I have no fucking idea what to do Ferb."
He rolled his glittering moss optics and got to his booted feet "Take my belt off for me and tie off my arm." I set the needle down on yellowing marble countertop, grasping the black leather of Ferb's tiny-waisted belt. Un-cinching it so slowly became erotic, was I cheating on Baljeet already? "Come on Phineas" He chided into my chest—when had he moved that close to me? "Come. On." Ferb's gaze met mine, I kept pulling on the belt as we watched each other, mouths centimeters apart, breathing down each others throats. He softly shut his eyes and I choked up. How was it possible for a human being—flesh and blood and ventricles and veins shoved together madly—to be so perfect? I lifted my right hand to cup his thin face. "What're you fucking doing?"
My heart shattered into a trillion shards. Why did he do it? Give me all the hints; moan 'come on' against my hot skin, insist upon me undoing his belt, letting me get so, so close. He gave me everything then tore it away because his Highness called for only the most agonizing forms of amusement and I was his favorite toy. "Nothing" I muttered, whipping the belt off then and acting as if that fleeting moment were naught. "Nothing Ferb."
"Why do you hate me Phineas?" He rasped sharply, his statement caused me to tighten the belt wrapped about his upper left arm violently.
"W-what?" He snapped me in my supreme fragility then had the nerve to ask me why I hate him?
"Don't deny anything Phin; I'm not so blind as you all bloody think." Mood shift number three, he snaked his head with hostility. "Find a fucking vein already!"
"Demanding aren't we" I mused cynically then sighed "H-how do I find a vein?"
Ferb hooked my wrist in his freakishly bony hand and guided me to the bend of his elbow. "P-press the needle flat against the skin and stick it into the blue." I scanned his ivory and found a ropey indigo vein; I winced as the long silver tip slid effortlessly into him. "Okay" His voice had risen a few nervous octaves "Now pull back the plunger to make fucking sure you're in the vein. If you are there'll be a drop o' blood."
I jiggled the syringe's plunger precariously, yes; there was a pin prick of scarlet. "I've got red."
It was unfathomable how he knew what that meant as soon as I'd spoken. "Right now…do it. All systems go."
"Are you ready?" I mouthed, staring into him. He would never be ready…never ever, ever.
"Fucking do it Phin." Was the determined reply, his expression was dreamy as he waited for what would quickly turn into his poison. "Do it." I looked on as the liquid-gold trickled from the syringe into Ferb, he squealed in pleasure and I wandered just how sick sweet it felt. "Ohh" His hair flopped down his back as he leaned his head against the tiled wall. "Ohh"
"What does it feel like?" The needle slipped from his skin like a used condom from a flaccid penis. By his ever-changing facial features alone I could see a trillion synapses turning red hot.
"Like chemical reactions. Like euphoria." Euphoria, that was the word floating around my head, count on Ferb to speak it. "I want this forever." I should have gotten it then that this would be his infinity, but in Buford's stall of a washroom I only laughed. Partly because I didn't want to see it—him becoming more of a drug addict than he already was—that was an unrealistic wish however. Ferb with his addictive personality; already hooked on cocaine and hallucinogenics…how could I have been so stupid? "Mmm" The drugs elicited a seductive moan that bubbled from between his chapped lips. I wrapped a hand around the bony shoulder blade; I felt his breathing slow steadily. His eyelashes—plentiful and lustrous, abundant as the compact bristles on a broom—tapped the side of my arm tenderly. His pupils were but pinpricks in a mass of glistening green iris. "When did you stop wearing my musk and start wearing his?"
It struck me like a potent blow to the face—Ferb taking olfactory note that I chose to sprinkle Baljeet's cologne on that morning instead of his own perfume. "When did you stop wearing your musk and start wearing hers?" Who was he to judge? He who spritzed Isabella's strawberry body spray in such quantity it surrounded him in a dewy cloud, he who abandoned his own scent. I missed it when I could smellFerb waltz into a room with the lights out and still know it was him.
"Because her perfume is lovely." His head swayed slightly, moving with bobble-headed idiocy.
"It smells like every other Barbie doll on the face of the fucking earth" I spat out the fingernail I'd been chewing on thoughtfully till then. "It smells boring, wear your musk again." His musk that reeked of overpowering floral fragrances—jasmine, hyacinth, orchid, rose, daffodil—but not only that, undertones of vanilla and tobacco and slow-burning-Birch wafted among the strands of scent.
"Baljeet smells like an old woman with that bloody Polo shit." The snide remark came out wobbly, as if Ferb were half asleep. His eyes drifted down until they were only partly open, the lid like a crescent moon. Again I marveled at the lashes—so long and thick they looked artificial—black plastic reeds fringing two green, glacial pools. Ferb's features were so perfect he was almost pretty. I detested his every sparkling fiber. His nails dug into the backs of my shoulder blades, when had he latched on? "I'm—so ugly"
"What?" I deadpanned; his head continued to gently bob, sending silky jade strands astray. "You don't really think that though, do you? You shouldn't, you're-" Even after nearly five minutes of unresponsiveness I continued on my pointless tangent. I talked for the sake of killing time. "Ferb?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm taking you to bed." Buford would've let him pass out on the cold tile floor, Mason too and Baljeet—Baljeet would've let him pass out with his head submerged in the toilet water. I fancied he deserved better than to dope-out in the bathroom. How to get him out though…Ferb was a head taller after all so I couldn't very well drag him. Bridal style, eventually I'd managed to pick him up. His height—and how ridiculously wrong it appeared—was the only awkward thing, he was far lighter than somebody 6'1 should've been.
Ferb was languid in my grasp as I carried him down the hallway, struggling desperately not to hit his skull or his twig-legs on anything. When after an infinity I'd closed us up in Buford's bedroom I laid him down as gracefully and tenderly as possible on the springy mattress. I watched him writhe sluggishly in the dying evening light. The dusky March eve morphed him into a vaguely transparent form; it was unnerving and I didn't get why. Ferb; regal, lacily masculine, deceptively soft and so painfully, painfully Ferb. Shadowed in the cool ocres and fuchsias of approaching nightfall. I opted to sit by his side, timidly ghosting my fingertips against his face every now and then.
"What is it about Baljeet?" Buford's intrusion caused me to fly away from Ferb's smacked-out form with lightening speed. "Hmm Phin?"
"W-what?" The question certainly did catch me off guard.
"What is it you like about Jeet?"
"I—I don't know." I took a deep breath and tried collecting myself. "His strength, his fearlessness, his passion. The way when he takes up a cause he'll let nothing tear through him, how he'll say exactly what he's thinking no matter the consequence…" I found myself draining, was that really it? Were there really no other aspects of Baljeet's personality I pined for?
"The ways in which he's exactly like Ferb. Not his humor, or the way he does his hair, or that stupid fucking bandanna or his adoration for glam rock. You love all the stupid fucking things you see in him that remind you of Ferb. That's low." Buford seemed genuinely pissed off; his paper-white cheeks were flushed scarlet, the blue eyes fiery. I found myself musing for the umpteenth time that Mr. Von Stomm—endlessly clamoring about with trashy girlies—was indeed head over heels for the Indian.
"What the hell do you mean?" I snarled, even managing a slight leer and shooting him the angriest glare I could—but I couldn't shoot daggers like Ferb could, my glares were never all that menacing.
"I mean that if he's not the one you want you need to stop messing him around. Fucking now. As gay as this sounds, I care about Jeet enough to know that something's changed. So you better step up you little faggot before I punch your fucking teeth in." The beefy fingers bunching up my sweater paired with the smell of cigar and rum on his steamy breath made me shrink back. "Ferb's made you into a pathetic mess and I don't want you doing the same to my best friend. I don't know what it is about Ferb the world is so in love with; he's not pretty, he's not all that smart. He's nothing special."
"Shut the fuck up" I hissed
"Do you love him Phin?"
"Of course I love him, he's my brother."
Buford smirked icily at my reply. "I wasn't asking about Ferb. But don't worry, the fact that you so obsessive-compulsively thought we were talking about him answers my question about who you'd choose in a life or death situation anyways."
"Don't you dare say that!" He was right, he was right, he was agonizingly right. "Of course I love Jeet!"
"I'm not as moronic as you think Phineas." Buford purred like a cougar in wait for it's' prey. "You fucked Jeet and you messed him up and he's not acting like Jeet anymore. And I don't like it, so you better make this fucking right."
You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision,
Rode on the steel breeze.
Come on you raver, you seer of visions,
Come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!
"They spoil every romance by trying to make it last forever." -Oscar Wilde