Dylan Hayes (pushme) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-02-07 18:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | dylan hayes, ghb |
Who: Dylan Hayes and GHB
What: Poking around in Dylan's head
When: Sunday evening
Where: GHB's apartment
Warnings: Drug use, sexuality
It was cold outside, again. Cold enough to sink in through all four layers, t-shirt, second t-shirt, sweater, coat ripped in three places. The worst part was the slush, it sunk through every crevice in his shoes, threatened to unstick the duct tape that held the heels together. His backpack was light and his pockets were filled with crumpled bills- it had been a good day. Sort of. Mac was weighing heavily on his mind, Dave's words appearing on street corners was heavier. It had hurt, seeing another thin-faced junkie with dull eyes flickering over a tabloid with the story of an angel. He could have thought it over more deeply, should have, instead of running to Henri's arms, his bed. But he had thought enough already. Dave was constantly on his mind, Mac was - an unfortunate casualty of all the terrible things that seemed to follow Dylan like a dark cloud.
All he wanted was to forget, and all he wanted was to feel something beautiful again.
As he climbed the stairs to Henri's apartment, he pulled a plastic bag from his coat pocket and stuffed the money inside it. As he cleared the last step, he closed the bag and replaced it in his pocket. The door was open, and he entered, slipping the backpack's straps off of his shoulders to leave the bag beside the door. The coat was next, dropped on top of the backpack, then sweater, then shirt, unbuttoned and also left in the pile. His face was still damp and when he touched it, it was freezing cold. He pressed his palms to his cheeks as he crossed the main room of the apartment to Dave-the-snake's tank. He sat slowly on the couch and opened the top, slipping a hand inside.
"I couldn't fall in love again." He said softly as the snake curled around his wrist. "I didn't want to. I'm sorry you're dead."