Re: Near the docks: Jeremiah/Liam
Drug addict. Yeah, he had been one of those before. Comfort in a needle buried in his arm, Trystan had introduced him to that, even if he had been warned away from the needles, from that rush of euphoria as the drug took hold and pushed the rest of the world to the periphery. But that was in a life a long time ago, ages ago, even though he couldn't quite remember when that last day really was.
"I was never much of a dancer," Liam answered, turning to look back at the lake, knees bent and arms resting easily atop them. "Too shy. Too. Something." Afraid. Yeah, he had always been afraid, afraid of life, afraid of rejection, afraid of living and loving and -
When had that become his reality? He hadn't always been that way, no. Not when he was younger and unafraid and willing to leave everything behind in pursuit of a dream in the big city lights. But somewhere along the way, fear had become his best friend, and he lived in constant apprehension of the next 'fuck you' that the world had to offer. Drugs had become his escape, his way to hide, but even that didn't last forever.
"I know a few people. I've lived here a few years." Had to leave out the bits of the truth that would scare Jeremiah/Hugh away. Just tell him about the life, not the death. Not the last breaths and the water that filled his lungs, choking and occluding the rest of the world. "You? Got some friends back at the fire?" The words held that Southern drawl of his even now, long and pulled out, sweet to listen to even if he wasn't much of a looker any longer.