Who: Dylan Hayes and Cam Harper (NPC) What: Packing away Dave's life When: Sunday night Where: Dave's apartment
He felt so cold
That was it. Only cold. He had never felt so empty in his life. His fingertips hovered over the bulky keys of the public library's computer for a full minute. The pain started in his elbows. Of course it would. His arms felt like they were on fire and for a moment he feared that he might lose himself in the moment and strangle the woman at the computer beside him. He turned his head and looked at her, or, looked at her profile. She was squinting intensely at the screen, going in for her next ebay kill. She didn't have a care in the world, except if she would be able to purchase a mint condition something or other oh fuck.
"Dave's dead." He said softly, and his eyes lost focus just long enough for the woman to turn her head and regard him with that same scrutinizing squint with the addition of a raised eyebrow.
"You alright, kid?" Dylan's eyes wavered and he reeled back, closing the window on his computer with a mash of the keys. He stumbled out of his chair and nearly fell to the floor before racing from the library desk.
Outside it was cold, but his arms still felt hot. Once more, his brain screamed for the needle- HEROIN- but even those hot thoughts couldn't melt through the ice block that had come crashing down on his heart with the news. It hurt, everything hurt. It made him feel slow and useless and worth nothing at all - what did? He had to go- And it didn't take him much time at all to reach the apartment building across from the Highway - he had to swallow down bile and force himself to look away from the small cluster of stoners going through the door and then whirled around, practically flying through the front door of the apartment building. Up the stairs and around the corner - fuck the huge weed leaf on the door and-
"Dave?!" When he called, his voice caught in his throat and it was more of a scream than anything else.
But Dave wasn't there. It was just Cam. Cam and boxes and boxes of - Dave.
"What are you doing?!" He called, and his voice was just the same; hysterical, wavering, cold. "Cam- stop, oh fuck, stop stop stop-"