Dreams

•Fifteen•

     •Joe's P.O.V•

     After a relentless hour or so of tender kisses and soft groans, Elyssa was well spent, and laid on the mattress--fully nude--playing with strands of her dark colored hair, her other hand brought a Marlboro to her full lips, every so often.

      Sitting on the edge of the bed, having tugged my boxers back on, I rested my elbows on my knee caps, blankly staring out into the sunlight that peered into the room from behind the sheer curtains of mahogany.

     I worried about him.

     Now, I'm not very sappy and lovey-dovey, and shit of the sort.

    It just feels so strange, being so far away from someone you care about, so much.

     I knew if I said anything about him, Elyssa would absolutely loose her fucking mind.

     It was hard to push away the worried thoughts I had, the concerns of where that fool was.

      He was extremely irresponsible, occasionally.

     He nearly got a bullet in his brain, recently.

      I remember he came home late one night, and he was absolutely petrified, looked as if he'd been crying, too.

      "Dope! Fucking dope!" His words were so breathy and shaken, stuttered, too.

       "Steve, where the fuck have you been?" Joey had piped up.

      Normally, Steven would have had a sly pissy comment about the name 'Steve', yet, he struggled to breathe correctly as he recalled the moments prior.

        He was out on a beer run, said he had an itch, ran into a guy- said he had dope on him. Slipped back into an alley way to make an exchange of twenty bucks for a Baggie, yet, the guy pulled a gun, pressed it to his head, took his wallet and his rings.

"My brain's gonna be all over that wall."

Those were the words he kept muttering over and over again, said those were his only thoughts at the moment.

       I huffed heavily and rubbed my eyes, my shoulders slumping a bit as I felt Elyssa's fingertips trail along my spine.

      "Joe,"

       God, where is he?

      "Joe,"

        I need to call him.

       "Joseph,"

        Why would he leave?

        "Anthony!"

       Why did he leave me?

      xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

•Steven's P.O.V•

"Who?" I muttered a bit bitchily, my dark brow cocked, teeth chewing on my lower lip as I watched Marilyn intently.