Chapter 28: Shot Like a Bullet

October 15th, 1995:

I hate it. I hate it so much. I'm sitting here, watching him sleep peacefully, and all I want to do is shake him, wake him, see those beautiful amber-hazel eyes gazing at me, and tell him everything. I can't lie to him, I just can't. It needs to stop. And I need to stop writing in this thing. All I've been doing since I started to sell was write about how much I hate it in this dumb journal. That was almost three months ago. I can't believe how fast time goes by when you're miserable. I just pray that my Angel never reads this. God, I can't even explain how much I love him. It's like I'm doing this because I know that there's no other way. If I wasn't bringing the flow that I do now, we'd probably be living with Queenie, if we were lucky, or in some cheap-shit one room dump with rats and roaches, and Angel doesn't deserve any of that. Me, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about anymore.

Just today, I was selling to one of the regulars, and he looked so eager to buy from me. It's like you could see the addiction in his eyes. His entire life had boiled down to whatever pathetic white powder and needles I could supply him with. I just hope that I never get like that. Being a junkie is unimaginable: how can somebody be so dependent on such a stupid thing? I don't get it, but perhaps it's better if I never do. I'll never have to know the pain, I'll only see it in the customers.

Will closed the book gently, setting it down underneath the bed so that Angel would never find it. Will was paranoid enough about Angel finding the abundance of heroin in his sock drawer, he didn't need to worry about Angel reading the journal that contained his innermost thoughts as well. The most difficult thing for him to do was to lie to Angel. Each and every time he stuffed that journal underneath the bed, he felt a pang of guilt and sadness, knowing that he was lying to the love of his life. That hurt him like nothing else.

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All the dealers gathered in Chad's dingy, disgusting one-room apartment after a full afternoon of selling. Will cringed as he looked around to see a large, brown cockroach scamper by his foot. "If I wasn't doing this, this is where I'd be," he thought to himself, as he closed his eyes briefly and followed his fellow dealers to the center of the room, where they all sat in a large circle and pooled their money, sharing stories about their day.

"And this one dude, man, I have never seen some guy so desperate in my life. Some yuppie bitch this guy was. He had on some nice, expensive watch, a tailored suit, and a briefcase, but his eyes were fuckin' bugging out of his head, he needed a fix so bad. The withdrawal was killing him, and he barely had any money on him!" Chris exclaimed, as the rest of the dealers snickered at his tale.

"So you didn't just give it to him for cheap, did you?" Chad questioned, with fierce urgency in his voice.

"Chad, brother, you should know me better than that," Chris scolded, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny, gold rolex watch.

"That's not real," Donnie insisted, as he examined the shiny gold and platinum of the luxurious watch.

Snatching it out of Donnie's grip, Chad examined it, inspecting the back. "Sure is real," he replied, "It's a beauty, too. I think this one's worth about 1400. Nice work, Chris. You've done the business proud."

The rest of the dealers looked on in awe at Chris's watch, as Chad continued, "Snaps for Chris," he said (Author's Note: Has anyone seen Legally Blonde 2? The Snap Cup??? Yesterday on the Today Show, they did "snaps" too! Umm, okay, I'll go on with story now, I swear).

Beaming and smiling slyly, Chris nodded and took back the watch, inspecting his finding.

"What do you say we celebrate?" Chad asked glancing around at the other sellers and raising an eyebrow at them.

"I second that. Man, I'm not as bad as that rich bastard, but I could sure use a fix," Chris admitted, rolling up his sleeve to reveal several scars from past injections.

"Wait a minute," Will said, shocked, "You're all junkies?"

"Not junkies, we just do it in moderation on occasion," Donnie explained, as he rolled up his sleeve to reveal scars identical to Chris's.

"Chad, you told me none of them used," Will said in a hushed voice, looking over at the dealer.

"They don't use frequently. Just once in a while to… you know… celebrate a good day, or something," Chad explained, as he took out the pure, white powder and began to prepare a needle for himself and the other dealers to share.

"I don't think I should do this," Will said, as he began to get up. Feeling a strong hand on his knee, he sat back down, following the hand to his left up to the man's face.

"I think you should," Chad said, as he injected himself with the needle, then passed it around to his colleagues to use.

Looking around nervously, Will was unsure of what to do. He and Angel had always been against drugs and drinking. Hell, Angel was only 20 years old, he wasn't even legal drinking age. Will knew that the heroin would numb the weight of depression inside his chest, but he also knew that nothing good could come from the evil white powder. "I'm not sharing the needles," Will insisted, giving into the temptation to discover what all the fuss was over the drug.

"That's fine," Chad said, setting up a separate needle for Will and handing it to him.

Injection it slowly into his veins, he immediately began to feel the surging rush of the substance ripping through his previously-pure body. The effect was almost immediate, as Will could literally feel the weight on his chest evaporating, as if the heroin had gone straight to his heart and devoured the sadness, bit by bit. The drug shot like a bullet through his veins, slowly numbing each depressing thought in his mind. Feeling his head spinning, he was dizzy with numbness, as a goofy smile formed on his face.

"He likes it, boys," Chad told the other men, who all looked eerily sober next to the dizzy Will. "Welcome to the gang, William."

"Thank you, men. I'm going home to my lovely wife now, I'll check ya later," he mumbled, stumbling on his way out the door.

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Will didn't even realize how late it was getting until he banged into the door due to the blackness of the outside. Giggling, he opened the front door to the apartment building and headed upstairs to meet Angel.

Opening the door, Will squinted from the change in light, as his apartment was brightly illuminated. He was welcome by a scantily-clad Angel, cooking some green beans over the stove. Since Will had begun making money, the couple had been able to afford food for the kitchen, instead of having to eat all their meals at the club.

Closing the door rather loudly behind him, Will winced at the noise and reminded his clouded mind that he had to act sane in front of Angel. The last thing he wanted was for Angel to discover his habits.

"Hey babe," Will greeted, alarmed slightly by the normal-sounding deepness and tone to his voice.

"Hi honey. How was work?" Angel asked, turning around and facing Will. Even with his mind polluted by the drugs, Will still found himself a bit short of breath at the sight of his lover. He was wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a tiny tank top that exposed quite a bit of his stomach. He wasn't wearing a wig, as he hadn't been lately when they were home, and was wearing minimal makeup, as opposed to the full drag makeup he usually wore.

"Good. You look beautiful," Will complimented, still shocked that he sounded so… normal.

Blushing slightly, Angel walked towards him and ran a hand down his chest, "Thank you. You look good, too. Did something happen at work today?"

"I just had a, um, a very good day," Will answered, holding Angel in his arms. Looking down at his lover, Will realized how happy he was: His problems were vanishing in front of him, and all he was thinking about was Angel. He felt weightless, and his life felt simple, and fun, for the first time in a while. Heroin was bad for him, but he didn't understand how something so bad could make him feel so wonderful.

"Well, that's good, baby," Angel said, as a "ding" startled them both. "Ooh!" he squealed, "My green beans are ready! I've had a craving all day!" he exclaimed and went to go drain the water from the pot that held the green beans.

Just as Angel sat down to eat his dinner, Will stood next to him and tapped him on the shoulder. Smiling, Angel asked him, "What can I do for you?"

"Let's make love!" Will suggested, his ocean-blue eyes bugging out of his head with happiness, excitement, and something that Angel couldn't quite put his finger on.

Giggling, Angel stood up, leaving his green beans to get cold. Pulling seductively on Will's shirt Angel said, softly, "I could use some love. I told you I was hungry."

"Let's get started," he said quietly, picking Angel up and hoisting him over his shoulder.

Angel shrieked as he left the ground. "Will! Put me down!"

Scampering back to the bedroom, Will plopped Angel down on the bed and climbed on top of him and began kissing him feverishly. A night of sweet love-making was definitely in order.

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Morning came far too quickly as Angel's alarm buzzed and rudely awakened him from a deep sleep. Stretching and rolling over, he looked at Will and smiled. Pushing the blanket away from his body, he got up and noticed that Will's arm was left exposed. Just as Angel was about to pull the blanket back over him and cover Will, he noticed a mark on his lover's arm. Examining it closer, the angry red dot was right in the center of a large, blue vein on his forearm. Gaping at the red mark, Angel wanted to touch it, but was afraid of awakening his lover. Suddenly, everything clicked together. Will wasn't a salesman, he was a dealer; a dealer who made use of his own "materials." Shocked, Angel got up quietly and walked over to the drawers that he and Will shared. Opening them one by one, Angel was afraid of what he would find. Reaching the bottom drawer, Will's sock drawer, he pulled it open and saw quite a large stash of white powder in small, plastic bags.

"No," he whispered, trying to convince himself that this was all an illusion. "No, no, he would have told me, this can't be-," he was interrupted by Will turning over in bed.

Shutting the drawer as quickly and quietly as possible, Angel grabbed some clothes to put on, and rushed into the bathroom. As tears flowed freely down his cheeks, he looked into the mirror, terrified of what the future would hold for the couple. He had never imagined that he would be married to a junkie. He knew only one thing, however: He could never tell Queenie.

Packing up and leaving quietly for work, Angel wrapped his favorite coat, the white faux-fur one, tightly around his body and walked to the club, tears stinging his eyes.

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A/N: Yes, my loyal readers/reviewers, this is the last chapter I'll be posting before I leave, unless I can miraculously finish the next few up. They all need to be posted at once, but I can't tell you why =P. I really hope you liked this one. Next update should be in about a month. I hope you'll still be interested. Once again, feel free to review, because I do quite like the feedback!