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Liam Roberts is an (author) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2014-03-05 09:15:00

Who: Liam
What: A narrative
Where: His room
When: Recently
Warnings/Rating: None

Somedays, Liam wondered how he had gotten to where he was now. He could still remember coming to Vegas over two years ago, the first big move he had ever made away from his home in Mississippi. Sure, there had been stays here and there in some big cities to be closer to his editor, to the publisher, things like that, but home had always been Mississippi, and now it wasn't, hadn't been for a while, and he couldn't quite imagine going back there to stay. It was tempting, and he would never say otherwise, but that sleepy pace wasn't for him anymore.

It was cool on the balcony, the air dry and still, and he sat outside with a cigarette between his lips, leaning against the railing as it overlooked their little slice of the city. Smoke drifted about him, harsh and bitter, and he knew he shouldn't be smoking these, shouldn't be doing a lot of things, but he still kept on keeping on with the bad decisions. Liam knew he didn't used to be like this, had always thought himself a smart thing with a good head on his shoulders, but he wasn't sure that was true any longer. This city just brought bad things onto his doorstep, and for whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to say no, to do the right thing.

So he smoked and he thought, and it wasn't until the tears were cold against his cheeks that he even realised that they were there. He wasn't sure why it was happening, why his cheeks were damp and his chest was tight, but he was sure the answers were somewhere in all the ways he had messed up. He thought to Ben, to the mess he had brought to this relationship, or whatever it was. It still felt too good to be true, that someone like Ben would even cast him a glance.

A nagging voice in the back of his head told him he needed to get some help. He needed something to help pull him back from the ledge of whatever was happening, the snowball of disaster he couldn't seem to untangle himself from. He just felt so distant from everything, from life, from the city, from the handful of people that were, at one point or another, friends. Leave it to him to isolate himself in a city this big. The thought made him snort, a coughing sort of noise with the lungful of smoke he had been holding onto, and with a sigh, the cigarette was snubbed out in the ashtray that had found a home out here, and Liam sunk down to sit on the cold floor of the balcony.

He thought about Ben. He thought about Sam and Neil. There was even a moment where he thought about Seven, about Trystan, about the kiss of oblivion that he ached for. He thought about these things and he shifted so that he was laying down, staring up at the sky, and he let the world pass him by.