night and day [h.s]

ten

In a rage, he bounded up the stairs. Alcohol pumped through his blood; he was like a time bomb on it's last second before it exploded. Fuck it, it was all going down tonight. He wasn't sloppy drunk enough to make his foot falter and make him slip on the last step up, but if he had to walk the line test he wouldn't pass. Not out of complete and utter intoxication but because of rage.

1 or so in the morning and he was barging into his apartment. TV still static from this morning and things strewn across. He searched the coffee table for the bag, the couch, underneath, and around it.

He couldn't stop seeing the headlines flash behind his eyes. Local girl overdosed on heroin. Why? Why? Why? He didn't even know her but the headline was all too similar to that of years ago. The one that made his blood stop cold and his mom's eyes go wide. The one that caused an entire domino effect of events that he didn't mean to happen. He was just a teenager and they did stupid things but why did they do that stupid thing? Why did they have to dance the line and then jump it holding hands and laughing? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
"Where the fuck is it?"

Kitchen table was out of the question. Unwanted mail stacked itself up there. He opened his room door and pulled out drawers. The sock drawer. That's where he found it: the brown bag with something that'd take him away. He pulled out the baggy with the tab in it and sat down on the bed.

Maybe he should roll a joint first. To relax him, get his mind off the issue then take it. He didn't want a bad trip and regret taking it in the first place. Nyala's words drifted into mind, "Yeah a bad trip, like trying to kill yourself. Convincing yourself that you can fly if you jump out that ten story window."

He was definitely going to roll that joint first. He'd forget about her, it, and everything. He got his papers, his weed, and got to work. But the faint knock at the door tugged his attention slightly. He was thinking of the outside world again with that knock. And if it was James again he swore...

"Go away!" he yelled.

But the knock was persistent and there again and he was just going to ignore them until they got the message.

"Please," he heard the faint feminine voice at the door say. And it sounded a lot like Nyala's if his mind wasn't fucking him over. And it was Nyala he realized, looking into the peephole and seeing the girl fish eye version. She stood in the hallway in all black attire looking directly at him. She couldn't see him but it was as if she just knew he was at the peephole right now debating whether or not to let her in.

The door opened and he stood face to face with her. Her dark hair was loosely pulled back and she hugged her body, worry etched across her features.

"My apartment's freezing and I was wondering if you had a blanket or something to lend me. It's like negative in there."

He knew this would happen to her. She rented the shittiest apartment on the shittiest floor, bound for the heat to break sometime. It broke at least once a week last he remembered the landlord telling him. But, he didn't have any blankets, anywhere in his apartment. Not including the one on his bed but he didn't really want to give that to her.

"I don't have blankets sorry," he replied.

She slapped her palms against the outside of her thighs and took a deep breath. "Great, um. I don't know what to do."

She stayed outside with you while you were drunk and 'lost' your key. Help her out you fucking idiot. He groaned at the voice in his head and tilted his head back to see how bad the damage was.

"My apartment is wrecked, not going to lie – "

"I really don't care, I just need heat."

He sucked in a breath and took a step back. "Come in then."