drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart
[ set pre-knock out ]
517B wasn't very difficult to locate along Marrow Street, considering what other sort of sketchy places were found along the road. Not that any of it was able to deter Jack, who came across the owner of said theatre outside and nonchalantly polluting the air. He'd been hoping to get inside and not stray out here any longer, but since Julian was who he'd come to find, he supposed it was a worthwhile sacrifice.
And Julian's lungs were on the altar that night - a sacrifice to stress and masochism and shameful addiction. He was always quitting, but he never quit. Every pack was his last. But every drag just felt so numbing and distracting that willpower never won over.
Smoke occluded his face when he looked up to the visitor, and he was bleary-eyed anyway. It took him a moment to recognize Jack under the circumstances, but once he did there was a twitch of his face that turned into a weak smile.
"Hey," he said, sounding breathless.
The shorter boy dropped down heavily next to him on the sidewalk, quick fingers snatching that cigarette without a care for respect to bring it to his lips for a drag.
"Hey. No show tonight?"
The petty theft didn't seem to bother the actor. He just pulled his legs closer to his chest, crossed his arms over his knees, and rested his head, facing Jack. His blinks were becoming a little too long, his eyes opening too slowly.
"No. Just reading, blocking, figuring everything out, cleaning... all the boring things no one will ever see or care about. But that I have to do anyway."
Jack balanced his elbows on his knees and returned the gaze, one eyebrow rising slightly. "You're not gonna pass out on me, are you?" he cautiously probed, noting that the other was looking less than well. If it was sleep-deprivation, he needed to research the ancient art of not looking as horrible as he might've felt. In his own case, at least he'd learned over time how to avoid the groggy monster face.
"No! No... I'm awake. Definitely awake." It seemed more like an affirmation than a statement of fact. And when Julian said it, he stirred, sitting up and rubbing his hands together briskly. Julian wasn't someone who did well without sleep, but he was someone who could make do. No more, no less.
"I'm sorry," he continued after his bout of self assurance. "I'm all done here - I just locked up. Do you want to go somewhere else?"
His new sidewalk buddy didn't look convinced, but didn't press any further. He hated when people doubted him, and tried to be valiant in not doing the same. "Anywhere else but out here. I'm fucking tired of being on my feet all day. I feel like a hooker, only cleaner."
Julian wanted to say something equivalent, but he really did feel like a hooker. No cleaner or less paranoid of venereal disease. He just breathed a laugh and stood up, palms on the tight black denim covering his skinny knees.
"My place is a mess," and by that he meant a large closet at the end of a hallway in an apartment building with communal bathroom facilities. "But I'd rather not go out." He looked up to Jack, a fuller smile on his face. "I guess what I'm saying is - your place or mine?"
The answer was immediate. "Mine. I forgot to feed my cat this morning and I think the pet police are gonna come knocking on my door soon," Jack only half-complained, pushing up to his feet a moment later. He sucked in the blessed nicotine of the stolen cigarette, and then inclined his head in the direction that he turned.
"I didn't know you had a cat," he said. Perhaps at one time he did know that Jack had a cat, but he didn't anymore. The surprise in his voice didn't seem condescending, just...surprised. Pleasantly so. He followed the dealer without dissension.
The blond laughed, tucking a hand into his jeans pocket. "Her name is Boots. Guess why."
In turn, Julian's hands went into the pockets of his peacoat. He glanced over at Jack and smiled. People with things like pets and homes that weren't formerly used for unwanted furniture and cleaning supplies made him sad and jealous.
"That's really cute of you, you know."
He was given something of a glare for even daring to say that, but nothing was said in response, only in the physical offer of the cigarette back to him.
The actor accepted it, casting his eyes down to the pavement. For a few paces and the spanse of a cigarette drag, he was silent,
"I meant that. I wasn't trying to be condescending. It's sweet that you have a cat named Boots." Oh, the jealousy seething under those words.
"... Kitten, actually."
The actor's mouth fell open a little bit stupidly, but there was soon a cigarette between his lips.
"...Oh," said he.
Like a teenage girl, Jack rolled his eyes and led the actor to his humble above a few blocks away. One crappy entrance door, two flights of stairs, and one screaming neighbor later, the keys were shoved into the dealer's front door, and a hall light flicked on.
Boots was sitting obediently away from the door, a hopeful look on her face. As hopeful as cats could look. She suddenly flew at their legs, whoring around her owner's ankles before meowing up at Julian.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Jack muttered, kicking off his shoes.
The cat immediately distracted the actor, and he was kneeling in Jack's foyer and reaching out to pet the little thing.
"Hello..."
She started purring immediately, grateful for the company and touch, and without even greeting his housemate, the blond meandered into the kitchen. "If you want food, you'd better come here," he called out to the calico, the sound of dry food soon waterfalling into her food bowl Successfully distracted, she dashed away, and a second later, he was heard whispering to her.
Snubbed by the kitten, Julian made his way to Jack's couch, depositing himself on it like a bag of trash into a dumpster. Just less noisy and smelly. For a moment, he thought Jack was addressing him when he spoke of food, but then self-pity set in and he was fairly sure no one would ever offer him any such hospitality before sex.
"She's precious.. You're really lucky."
"I found her in a box." A fridge opened, then closed, and the aforementioned dealer stepped out of the kitchen with a glass of water. "There were three other ones, but..." He stopped himself before revealing he'd only picked her because she was the cutest and would've taken the other three if his place was big enough, and took over the cusion next to Julian, stubbornly quiet.
The glass was offered to him, in the event that he was thirsty or wanted to get the taste of cigarettes out of his mouth.
It didn't register. Julian just wondered why Jack put his water there and stared at it blankly for a few seconds.
"Well, then she's really lucky. I would have just ignored them all. I guess that makes me a bad person?" A forced smile.
Crossing his legs, the other boy took the water back and had a sip, now that Julian had taken advantage of his momentary niceness. "It makes you a person who doesn't like cats," he pointed out, lips against the rim. It wasn't 'no you're not a bad person', but it was as much assurance as he would allow himself to give.
"Actually, I really do like them. Dogs too. I just don't have the time or space." Julian curled up, facing Jack. The sofa was getting more and more comfortable. It was sucking him in, draining his life force.
"Mmnh... Would you mind if I crashed here? If it's okay..."
Now it was Jack's turn for something to not register. "If you don't mind the possibility of Boots stepping all over you in your sleep, no," he offered, not moving an inch. He tossed a glance at the clock on the wall to check the time, wondering where it'd gone.
"You let her in the bedroom?" Julian said it very casually, as if he wasn't trying to sleep with the dealer. Which he was most definitely intent on.
The glass found a new home on the coffee table in front of them. "I keep the door open, but she doesn't always come in." And then he thought of something. "Do you wanna crash now? What happened to 'no, no, I'm awake'?"
"I can be awake," Julian said, sitting up and dragging himself from the pull of the upholstery. "See? Just for you." His hand fell briefly onto the blond's knee - one third friendly pat, one third something more, and one third just searching for balance.
Jack seemed a little doubtful, but got up nonetheless, thumb and index finger snagging a bit of the actor's shirt in an attempt to lead toward the bedroom in case he got lost or tipped over.
Once they arrived, the actor slid his coat onto the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Jack with an awkwardly blank expression. Admiration of the aesthetic sort, if the dealer had the mind to notice or care.
The look wasn't immediately returned, as the other slipped past him to swipe whatever else remained on the mattress into his arms and tossed them on the dresser carelessly. He paused when he noticed he was being watched, and brushed the hair out of his face, feeling far less awkward than the other.
"... is this the part where you ask me to come to bed with you?"
"...not really. This is the part where we stop talking and looking at each other's faces. At least, that's how I learned it." There was no anger in the statement. It was just that - a statement.
Understanding what Julian wanted, he slipped over to the occupant of his bed and leaned down, planting both hands on either sides of his hips, lips hovering close.
"Is it?"
"I don't know. It doesn't have to be. I'm not sure it matters either way." Julian stared up at the blond with an uncharacteristic coyness - a haze of vulnerability that came and went from night to night. "But I think you're...worth knowing. So maybe it shouldn't be that way."
There was a tiny smirk. "Yeah, I think it's better if you shut up," Jack confessed in a murmur, closing the distance between and claiming his mouth.
With that, Julian took the hint. He stopped talking, started touching, and resigned himself to another night of feeling hollow. Another night he would love to forget.