5
It's my second to last night here, and I drive to Julian's place. I've called him several times from my house and he never picked up. I assume he's out. There's some need for me to hang out with him, to give him some sense of friendship, and I don't know why. A part of our past wants to hold on, I guess.
I pull up to his driveway, and only his car sits there. When I walk up to his front door, I notice there's not a sound coming from within the place, and I cautiously step inside.
"Julian?" I call out into the dark house.
That's when I see a dim light coming from Julian's room. Not a sound. I walk up the stairs, again calling out, "Julian." He never responds. I step into his room, trying not to make a sound, and the instant I look over at his bed, I see him lying there, his needle-scarred arm slumped over the side, a trickle of blood dripping out.
"Julian?" I say, walking up to his body.
His eyes are closed and I hope he's sleeping, but there's no motion in his chest. I check his pulse in his neck, and I don't get anything, but figure I may be doing it wrong since I've never checked a pulse before.
"Julian," I whisper, shaking his shoulder.
Nothing.
I look down at the floor below his arm, but no needle lies there. There's no indication that he shot up here, and I look back at Julian. He may just be out cold, I hope. Suddenly there's movement in his hand and Julian's eyes begin to open slowly, failing to open more than halfway.
"Finn?" he says, his voice quivering.
"Clay."
"Clay-ton?" he murmurs, slurring the word.
"I thought you were dead," I say calmly.
"Julian never dies, man. I am not goin' anywhere." He looks at his arm. "Holy shit. Is that blood?" He laughs, but I simply stand and stare at him.
"How strong was that shit?"
"I don't know. I'm totally trashed, though, obviously." He looks at his arm again and the floor. "Fuck, that's bad." He lies back down and shuts his eyes.
"Well it's not good," I say, smiling slightly.
Julian laughs again and I sit on the floor next to his bed. He asks me why I came and I tell him I wanted to hang out. Julian looks up at the ceiling for a while, not saying a thing, and when I ask him if he wants to go hang out again, he's out again, his body as limp as it was when I walked in. I leave.