Sheriarty One Shots (Adapted Version Of Da Music Meme) [REQUESTS TEMPORARILY CLOSED]

+28: Every You Every Me - Placebo [REQUEST]

Request from @ConsultingFangirl_ 

+28: Every You Every Me - Placebo 

You guys give me such happy songs... Warnings: Depression, reference to self harm, prostitution from a young age and reference to homophobia. 

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Jim lays in his bed, staring up at his ceiling. He's completely bare and lays on top of the covers, trying desperately to not let the tears in the corners of his eyes spill. He can't allowed that. He choose this life.Even if he could blame it on his parents for kicking him out of the house when he came out to them, he knows that he didn't have to go down this route for food and money. 

At just sixteen and with no qualifications, Jim wasn't going to be hired. That was a fact. He looked messy, was very young and had a criminal record - even McDonalds had better people they could employ. 

It left Jim with little choice. He tried to steal the food he needed and still did that eight out of ten times but that still left him with no where to live. Selling himself was the only answer. It provided enough money and he could work for himself on his own time. He started selling his body when he was seventeen, just turned. 

After a year, he'd built a fair number of clients. Six regulars and then he usually had about two randoms a week. It could be worse. None of them were too mean... Well, no. Some of them were absolutely horrid but they didn't physically hurt Jim so, yeah, it could be much worse. 

Sighing, Jim rolled on to his side. His right arm hangs of the side of his bed and he winces at the sight of the ugly scars there before he tucks his arm against his stomach so he doesn't have to look at it. None of the clients were physically abuses towards him but that didn't stop him punishing himself...

He wishes he were able to go home and tell his parents he's straight. Maybe they'd welcome him back into their home. He's not straight, though. He knew that.. but they don't have to. He can be their happy, straight son that dies alone with about fifty cats. 

Another sigh leaves Jim's lips before he stands up. How many times a day did he have that exact line of thoughts? Too many, was the answer. 

He makes quick work of removing all sheets from the bed. The man that just left his flat was his last client for today and so now he could change the sheets to clean ones. He'd probably take the next day off, he usually did on Wednesdays. 

 He gave himself Wednesday's and one Monday a month off. That meant that he avoided having sex with more than two people per day. 

Jim shakes his head before heading down to the laundry room the building shared. 

* 

"What?!" Jim yells as the landlord pushes him out of the building.

"We got a strict no drugs policy here, Mr Moriarty" He says.

"Oh, fuck off. You did not find drugs in my flat and you know it! On top of that, you're not meant to go in my flat without my consent unless you think I'm dead inside!"

None of what Jim says stop the man from shoving him out of the building. Two sercurity guards come and give Jim a box and a duffle bag. It's all the stuff he brought with him from his parents home. THey look guilty, as if they know exactly what's just happened. And they probably do, because they're the people that would be sent in to find the drugs. They all knew that Jim didn't have drugs,

Instead of causing any more of a fuss, though, Jim simply grabs the duffle bag full of clothes and picks up the box. He always kept his wallet on him so he kasknew that there was no chance of the landlord (bastard) stealing anything of value.