Toby McIntyre (squirrelly) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2014-08-04 19:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-10-09, toby |
right here it's clear, that I'm not getting better
Who: Toby
When: Morning
Where: His room, at his house with T.J.
Toby closed his eyes as he leaned over the mirror and snorted the line of cocaine. It was habit, one that he never paid much attention to. Looking in the mirror when he got ready, or when the errant desire to make sure his hair wasn’t pointing in every direction hit him, didn’t bother him, but he could never stand to watch himself when taking his more serious drugs. Had he been forced to explain why, Toby might have reasoned that it was because it impressed on him the reality of his addiction -- if his excuse was that he was only getting high to keep his squirrelly were-tendencies at bay, then why was he taking a stimulant? More importantly, why had he currently taken enough to kill a human man twice his size? Toby had two passions in life: drugs and sex. He claimed to indulge in them because they were fun and he was an adult, who could stop him? But the truth was that they allowed him to forget about everything that bothered him. Those moments, as fleeting as they were, when he was outside his own body and out from his head, were precious to him.
As much as he loved T.J., Toby blamed his best friend for the current dark cloud lingering in his mind. He was nothing if not an expert in pushing feelings and serious thoughts out of his mind, but it was difficult to do that with someone constantly encouraging you to open up about something that was “so obvious” to everyone else. So, yeah, Toby had considered the fact that he had feelings for Emyli that went beyond finding her attraction, beyond how much he cared for her as a friend. He’d allowed himself to be worried about her and let it show on his face, and now she was gone. Toby hadn’t spoken to her in days outside a few brief texts to make sure some psychopath hadn’t come back to finish the job they’d started with her gut. And the thing of it was: as empty as Toby felt right now, he didn’t blame Emyli for a second of it. If anything, he was mad at himself for being weak and betraying the silent pact they’d made the moment they met and realized they were kindred spirits.
Toby licked his finger and used the wet pad to pick up the sprinklings of powder that still dusted the mirror. He stuck his newly made white digit in his mouth, brushing it along his gums to make the most of what was left of the drug. If he wanted anymore, he’d have to get dressed and go forging for it, but Toby always had more than enough alternate narcotics to keep him fortified for weeks. No longer needing the mirror, he threw it down to the floor before rolling over in his bed to wrap an arm around the woman beside him. He didn’t know her name; she had told him some time last night, but much like any information he didn’t make an effort to hold on to, it had been lost in the hours since. His hand brushed against her bare stomach before moving upward to cup her breast. He squeezed his hand, gently caressing her as his mouth found the spot at her neck that she had claimed to be her favorite. As Toby coaxed her awake, his mind darted in a thousand different directions, fueled by the cocaine flowing through his system. He questioned how long he’d let the strange blonde stay in his room before encouraging her to leave. He wondered what Emyli was doing, which a chasing thought of who she was doing, which appeared before he could push it from his mind. He argued with himself about calling her and trying make amends for any uncomfortability he forced on her. The woman eventually made a soft cooing sound, which offered him enough of distraction to jump off those tracks of thoughts. But when she rolled over and looked up at him with smeared makeup and a sloppy smile, all he could do was think about how much more attractive Emyli was wearing the same. Toby moved his lips to her mouth, using the kiss as an excuse to close his eyes. He would sleep with this woman one more time, maybe twice for good measure, before sending her on her way, he decided. Tonight, he’d probably go out, just as he had the night before, and find someone else to bring home with him (or to go home with). Toby would remind himself as many times as he needed to that feelings were meaningless, that they could easily be swayed or imitated by the drugs he loved so much. Then he would call Emyli. And when she finally answered, everything would go back to the way it had been.