Marco (thatdarnoctopus) wrote in mountzenithrp, @ 2018-11-30 02:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | #day 011, marco, oliver |
Who: Marco & Oliver
When: Around 7:30am
Where: Marco's room
Marco was used to insomnia. It came with his disorder, it came with the withdrawal, it just happened for him. Sleep was tricky, generally. He had been on pills at one point that helped with that, but he couldn't remember at this point if the side effects were something that he couldn't handle, or if they had stopped working. He wasn't sure that it would have worked with the withdrawal, anyway.
Somehow, even with those things working against him, Marco almost always ended up asleep in this damn house. Maybe not for long, and not every night, but he slept, and he knew that it was because They wanted him to. He suspected that whatever They used to put him to sleep only added to his cravings, and probably had a base in opioids, but he had no way of knowing, and honestly, it was entirely possible that his brain had made this fact up with no basis in truth. It didn't matter, really. Just that he slept.
He didn't know how long he slept that night, but it was long enough for Marco to wake up to heroin.
There wasn't a lot there. Just a little baggie, and a fresh needle, sitting on his desk, next to his computer. Marco noticed it instantly, but passed it off as a trick of the mind as he woke up, threw up, did normal morning things, and lamented his aching body. He needed heroin, but he wasn't getting it. He knew that. They had been pretty damn clear when he had asked, that they gave him back Juno and Lennon, because they seemed like better compensation for the damn henna tattoo that was still fading from his neck. And they were. He wanted his friends around, and so the idea of heroin had to go.
Except, the heroin was here. Marco just stared at the bag for a long time, wondering why They were stringing him along. Or were They helping him? It wasn't a lot, but it would dull the ache for a little while, maybe keep him from being crippled with pain on his bathroom floor. But still, he wasn't supposed to have heroin. He poured the bag out into the palm of his hand, trying to get a better idea of what he was dealing with. The note came out then, and Marco put the dope down on a paper on his desk, to be funneled back into the bag in a moment.
For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what exactly the note meant, but it made his blood run cold anyway. What had he lied to them about? Did them mean specifically Juno and Lennon, or the house? Was this about keeping it secret that he had asked for more drugs? Or just the fact that he had been on drugs to begin with? Was there something else? And seriously, why was there even heroin here?
Despite the ache, and the nausea, Marco knew that something was wrong, and he had to get upstairs, to Juno and Lennon, to make sure they were okay. To see if they had other pieces of the puzzle. To just talk. Neither of them had seen him since his confession, and again, he found himself wishing to know where he stood, and how this changed things. So he headed upstairs, earlier than he was usually up. Juno would be up. She worked out early, and he could probably catch her before she headed down to the gym, or wait for her to get back, depending on how long it took for him to get up the stairs. Fuck, maybe he should have done the heroin before he started up...
But slowly he got up the stairs, and to Juno's door. And Juno's door was wrong.
Marco put a hand out and dragged his fingers across the spot where Juno's name was supposed to be, then knocked gently. Maybe the door wasn't wrong. It was more likely that he was wrong, wasn't it? He'd seen it like this, twice now, with her name missing. Once, when they had gotten back from the island, it was because her room had been moved. Once, just a few days ago, it was because she wasn't in Mount Zenith.
He knocked again, harder. He waited a minute, trying to hear anything over the laughter in his head, then knocked again. Finally, he tried the doorknob.
The door opened. The room was vacant.
Marco very quickly felt like the air had been removed with everything else in the room. He stepped in further, looking around like he might just find the entire contents of the room stacked up in a corner, or shoved into a closet, but the room was bare. At least until Marco leaned over to throw up, then it had that going for it.
"She got moved," he told himself, over and over, not even realizing that the words were coming out of his mouth. "She got moved," he whispered as he stumbled out of her room, down the hallway of the fourth floor, looking for her name. "She got moved," he said as he did the same for the third floor, and then the second.
In the end, Marco had a smidgen of heroin, and no Juno. Their last interaction had been him telling her about his drug problem, disappointing her again, and apparently lying. And now she was gone.
Marco felt like he should have been crying, but he couldn't catch his breath to do it. Everything felt fuzzy and far away, except that ever present ache and a new pressure in his chest. He somehow made it back up the stairs and into his room, though he did it blindly, and didn't remember it once he was there. Through his mind racing, he somehow managed to put out a desperate network message, but even that felt unreal. He did remember throwing up again, right on the carpet, but everything felt too wrong, and he was shaking too much to even think about cleaning it up.
Juno was gone, and he was pretty sure that it was his fault.
In the end, it just felt right to hide under the desk, with the unused drug still sitting up there above his head, and try to breathe.