If Marc Emery is the Prince of Pot, I'm the King! (upinsmoke) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-06-03 22:33:00 |
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Current music: | my sweet prince - placebo |
every sky is blue but not for me and you (stuck between the do or die)
Who: Marijuana and Dave Henderson (narrative)
What: Closure after eight years of love; in true, angsty Drug God style.
Where: Dave's apartment, ending at the Highway
When: Thursday, 1 PM.
Warnings: Language, drug use, mentions of sex and suicide. Violence (surprisingly, not against Dave).
"You wanted to talk. So talk." It was a tense Marijuana, arms crossed and smoke deep in his brain to keep down the pain of what he knew was going to be said, who spoke as he leaned back against the inside of Dave's apartment door. Even in the living room, there were memories of their passionate affair, the affair that had lasted eight years, the affair that had Marijuana falling in love with a mortal boy and watching him grow up with pride. The couch was a reminder of - yes, the sex - but also of just curling up together to watch a movie, of holding Dave when the nightmares of his past got too unbearable. The kitchen was a reminder of many weeks spent with his second, torturing him with recipes... even leaning against the damned door was a reminder of taking Dave up against it roughly and Marijuana was just thankful that the bedroom door was closed.
Dave, standing about ten feet away and leaning against the door frame that connected living room to kitchen, had his arms crossed over his chest as well, even as the withdrawal shuddered through him. He knew he had to shoot up soon, but he had wanted to be sober for this, had wanted nothing of the brother that had stolen Marijuana away from him so quickly and suddenly in his veins. "When I found out that you were a god, I went back to the smack, yes. I had dreams of Hell, dreams of the Devil, and I needed something to keep me from thinking about it too heavily." Dave's voice was shaky and his arms shifted from being crossed to hugging his midsection tightly, Marijuana pushing himself up off the wall in an instinctual desire to go to him but Dave just put a hand up to ward him off. "I wanted to end it then because I just knew that whatever I did, no matter how hard I tried to repent, atone for what I've done in your service... it would never, ever be enough." Dave looked down at the ground but quickly rose his head up to look at Marijuana again.
"But I had you. Even when Harmony, Tracer and Speed moved in, you still took the time to kiss me, hug me, make love to me occasionally. You still spend the odd night over here, still looked at me with love deep in your eyes, still stroked my cheek and held me when I had bad dreams. You still cared. You still wanted me. You... still loved me." Dave ran a shaky hand through his hair. "And that was enough. It was enough to keep me here, with you. Because I really, really don't want to leave you. Don't want to betray you because I'm not strong enough-" With that, Marijuana did step forward.
"Dave, you're strong. You're one of the strongest seconds I've had. One of the few mortals I've ever-" The smoke was coming down, his barriers were breaking and the black was rising. "I've ever loved. You're my second, you've lasted longer than any of them, you've loved me when I'm really one of the hardest people to love. I'm flightly and fickle, I cheat, I lie, I keep things to myself, I-"
It was Dave who cut Marijuana off this time, stepping forward to cup his boss' cheeks in his hands. "No, Marijuana." He whispered, pressing a tentative kiss to the corner of the god's lips. "No. You've always been good to me, even when you hurt me, you've always taken care of me, always shown that you cared, always let it show that you love me until-" Dave's hands fell from Marijuana's cheeks and he stepped back, his voice becoming just a bit stronger.
"Until Heroin."
Marijuana's knees weakened and he had to grab the back of the couch as the pain lept up past the smoke barriers and began to swirl around in his mind and he just stared at Dave with blackened, teary eyes. Dave's face paled a bit more at the sight of the black, the black that terrified him, but he ploughed on bravely. "You built the connection between us, whether you meant to or not. And after you died, after my mind... broke and I went back to heroin... the only thing that kept me going was feeling your love for me." Dave looked down at the ground.
"And now it's gone. Going, fading. I can't feel that you love me anymore. That's what was keeping me here, with you. And without it?" Dave shook his head and pursed his lips, still trembling. "There's no way I'm lasting more than a few more months."
Marijuana knew what was coming next. He knew, he had known since Dave had spoken to him through the blogs on Tuesday. Still, the words drove him down to his knees, trembling, mind splintering off into two different directions. "So, no, it's not just you, the two of you. But you know what will save me. Choose, Marijuana. Choose." Marijuana whimpered lightly and shook his head over and over again and Dave strode forward.
Now it was Dave looking down on his boss, now it was Dave who glared down at the creature at his feet, now it was Dave who punched him hard, sending Marijuana's head snapping to the side, the god bringing up a hand to his swollen, red cheek and bruised jaw, hissing lightly in anger and defeat. "You can't force me to-" Dave growled lightly and, secure in the knowledge that Marijuana wasn't going to be able to hit him back, didn't have the capacity to hit him back, aimed a harsh kick to Marijuana's ribs. The sound of one of them cracking sent a shiver of pleasure through Dave because finally, finally, he was hurting Marijuana instead of it being the other way around.
"Do me the fucking courtesy of telling me that you'd rather watch me die than love me again." He shouted down at his boss, who just shifted back from him, mind too broken to fight back, head hurting, smoke swirling, tears falling. "Just fucking tell me, Marijuana. I already know what you're going to say. I want to fucking hear it. From the lips that promised me forever, that kissed every single inch of my body over and over again. That sung me to sleep when I was scared. That whispered into my ear, words of love and devotion and eternity. Tell me."
Marijuana closed his eyes for a long moment, not healing himself, knowing that he could easily hurt Dave in return for causing him physical pain but he was already going to hurt his second, his love, enough for one day. When the whisper came, it was barely there, uncertain and certain at the same time.
"I choose Heroin."
And with those three words, the fate of David Michael Henderson was sealed.
And something inside Dave - David, really - something that had been dying a slow death ever since 420... it died. Flickered out. Gone, vanished and Dave bowed his head for a long moment. Why had he been expecting anything different? He was mortal, Heroin was a god and he would be an idiot to expect Marijuana to give up that beautiful, beautiful Drug to stay with a mortal who didn't have much time left.
But Dave just nodded tersely even as his heart broke. "Get out. I'll come back to work on Saturday." With that, he turned away from Marijuana to hide the tears in his eyes, to hide the twitching of the muscles underneath, to hide the trembling of his hands. With a shaky breath, he walked away from the huddled god on the floor, walked away from his reason and purpose and retreated to his bedroom to look for just a little bit of smack to take the edge off.
Marijuana closed his eyes against the reality of the choice he'd just made, against the fact that he had condemned his best friend and ex-lover to death, condemned him to die of heroin and because of Heroin. Slowly, surely, he called up clouds and clouds of power, shoving them roughly into his mind, wrapping them tight around Dave, around the pain, around the betrayal, around everything he had done to his second-in command.
It took him about half an hour until he was too high to think very much about anything at all. It took him another few minutes to stand, rubbing at his reddened jaw and poking at his broken rib, sending a jolt of fire through his chest and lungs. Standing straight, his eyes went black as he stared at the door to Dave's room, the bad, dark part of him wanting to kick it down and beat the shit out of his second for daring to hit him. But Marijuana's shoulders slumped as he dug into his pocket for a joint, lighting it up before trudging out the door. He had deserved the pain. He would heal like Dave had, the mortal way.
The walk back to the Highway went much slower as usual, Marijuana taking every second to layer more and more smoke into his mind and by the time he was back, his eyes were clear, cheeks free of tear tracks and face blank and smooth as he slid into his seat at the counter beside Matt, who wisely remained silent as Marijuana drew last month's expense reports toward him and dove in.
It was worth it.
Heroin was worth it.
And as Marijuana worked through the columns of numbers at a blindingly quick pace, as he rubbed at his bruised jaw, as he sat in the center of his world... something died within him as well.
And Dave, in his apartment, needle jammed deep into his arm like it was his heart, felt it die and dropped the needle before burying his face into his hands and beginning to sob.