|Aidan Waite (nogarlic) wrote in we_coexist,|
@ 2015-06-05 09:58:00
|Entry tags:||aidan waite, peter petrelli|
Still moping (Peter)
Talking with the cop had done some good, Aidan thought. It was nice knowing there were people out there that could help. Or ... well, thought they could help anyway. Officer Crews had been under the impression that he was speaking with a junkie, and had imagined that he knew what to do to help said junkie. While Aidan knew he was technically going through withdrawals exactly like a traditional addict, his were a bit more dangerous, and the source of his needs were more damaging to the outside world. When he imbibed, everyone he encountered was then in incredible danger of not being alive anymore. Even to get his particular drug meant the death of another.
He was doing moderately okay on the blood bags, but was still consuming more a day than he would like. Really, anything more than two or three wasn't okay. He liked it much better when he was down to one. One a day, two if he was going to be doing something that might inspire lust or... anything along those lines.
Aidan hadn't sought out Evey again, not wanting to see her smiling face in the midst of his anguish. He was sure she was probably pissed off at him for it. Hurt. And the other Evey? The one who had seen him at his worst? Who had helped him through? Shame kept him from her.
His skin itched to leave the house and hunt down a source of live blood. His brain swam with everything he'd been going through. To make it worse, Aidan couldn't even relax into a book. He devoured them as if they were his true weakness, and everything in them stuck like glue. He'd never been dumb, of course, but he'd also never sped through a novel in under two hours.
The couch, his go-to haven, seemed to have begun to be molded in one spot to his butt. Aidan shifted, trying to find that sweet spot. He'd need a new couch in not too long.