A/N: This is in Tommy's POV in case you didn't know that yet. The reference to uppers, in case you don't know what that means, is another word for drugs. There are uppers, which get you happy and high, and bummers (or downers, whatever you call them), which get you kind of bummed out and high. I have no idea where all of this chapter came from, it just basically wrote itself, so I hope it's not too out of the blue and like "wtf?" lol.
-Edie
When I first left you I went to my parents' house in New York. I stayed there, just shopping around and getting drunk, then passing out on my couch. I was depressed that I wasn't with you, but I was too damn confused to even think of going back to you. It wasn't long before I met Jennifer at a bar, and we went back to my place, where we slept together. I thought she would be just a one-night stand, but she thought differently. She didn't want a relationship, but she did want a "Fuck-Buddy" as she would call it.
I started hanging out with her, thinking it would just be better to forget about you completely. You were too overwhelming for me, and Jennifer was simple. I didn't have any unusual feelings for her, or any urges to kiss her or marry her or anything like that. I just saw her as a friend who helped me have a good time and who made me forget about you.
But I really didn't forget about you, you have to understand that. I promise you that somewhere in the back of my mind, I had your memory tugging there and still existing. Even something as simple as an apple, because it was the same color as your hair, would remind me of you.
I got a job in the bar that I went to pretty often, which led to free drinks. I kept the job for about two weeks, and while I was there I snuck Jen free drinks as well as other friends I had met. My boss found out and fired me, which led me to trying to find a new job. I didn't, and Jen had to move in to help support me. I had no money, I was literally broke. I lived off of the bread that we had sitting on the coffee table. I hadn't been in a worse situation than the one I was in.
I got hooked on drugs, too, to make matter worse. Jen eventually gave up on me, because I didn't give her a good screwing anymore, or something, and she left, leaving me broke and not able to pay rent. But I still had my car, don't ask me how I had managed to keep that thing. I still have it now, I couldn't bare to part with it for the huge amount of money that it would bring. I lived in it, eating with the spare change I could get off of people by singing and doing old BoyzAttack routines. Not a lot of people recognized me because I looked so shabby.
The drugs made me happy most of the time. If I was missing you, or thinking about how, exactly, I had made my way into this hell hole, I would just get high. My senses boosted, and the seats of my car felt softer than they ever had before. I could hear people sneezing from down the street, and the radio of my car seemed like it was blasting loud enough to have the sound force of a rocket taking off.
Not that I haven't done drugs before. I did when I was in BoyzAttack, but never like I did when I was gone. I got high at least twice a day, if not more, and I knew my life had turned to shit. And all of this happened within the first three weeks of me being in New York
I knew I could go back to you and clean myself up, I could be good again. But I didn't want you to see me in the state that I was in: living in a car and smoking uppers all day. You deserved better than what I had become.