I saved up all my pennies and I gave them to this special guy

[fabricatings]

He's not feeling himself. Not right. Something's scratching, clawing, and it's not because of the pain he imagines. It's not because of his life. It's because he needs something--anything. No oxy? Vicodin. No vicodin? Tramadol. Hydromorphone. Pethidine. All that mattered was that they were opioids and they were strong.

He tricks himself into thinking he can last at least a day with one pill. Briggs is convinced someone stole his tranquilizers, and even rounds on Mike. That's what sets it off--junkies aren't exactly ones for a stable environment. Briggs and Mike are both paranoid, powerful individuals who know how the other operates. It starts off as a fist-fight, Briggs claiming Mike took his drugs for drug money. Mike isn't exactly calm when he uproots the small table and begins yelling right back. The fact that he was thinking about it never comes up, but he goes for a walk.

He's still feeling it, the scratching inside his head. Like an insect, wanting to crawl out of his ear. And on top of that, he swears his gut feels like it's being stabbed. Like that knife is being sliced into him, over and over again. His lip is bleeding but he doesn't care--that pain is nothing compared to the flare in his abs, or the way even his teeth seem to be on fire instead of their usual numb state.

It's late by the time he tracks down his dealer after the other doesn't answer his texts. Slams him against the wall, demanding what he wants. Of course his dealer is out. Turns out, by the time Mike has actually beaten the shit out of the guy, the dealer is right. He's out.

"I know a guy, though," He says. "Hangs out at so-and-so a bar."

Mike's going to have to work for his meal, it seems, and he gives one last kick in the ribs to his dealer, tells him pleasantly he'll see him tomorrow and he'd better have some oxy squared away just for him.

To the bar he goes. He looks like shit--hasn't shaved, long hair--but he also doesn't care. All he cares about is the scratching, the pain--he needs that to go away. He just needs to track down who the fuck his dealer was talking about.

Comments

[47redbirds]

While Billy is sated, Mike feels a variety of sensations--most of them being absolute dread and shame. He feels like he's burning, but it's not because of how physically hot things had been--it was more than embarassment, too.

He liked it.

Mike Warren had actually liked it, and he sits up as best as he can with his hands covered in duck tape, wincing as he moves his shoulder a certain way. It hurt to breathe, still, the pain like residue from a pipe lingering. He doesn't bother to hide the wince, trying to calm himself down. It's numbness, really, that he receives once he's done panicking. Absolute numbness.

In his state he's able to see the pills. Able to count them, too, but he doesn't dare state that it's too much. It's more than he paid for and after all of this, he needs them. Desperately.

"...What are you going to do?" He says finally, at a loss for words.

[heroeswork]

Billy doesn't answer. He doesn't even seem to hear. He's too focused on getting his own pants situated. He moved with a sort of lethargy that contentment breeds, wanting to linger there and enjoy every moment of it. Slowly, he reached over to assist Mike. Not to free him, but to push his pants back up into place, more or less. His fingers trailed over the other's hips, as if considering doing more. Reluctant to let this one go. He fought so very hard...

Finally, Billy pulled himself away. He shoved open his door and slipped out of the truck. He slammed it shut behind him. He took his time crossing around the front of the truck, his gaze fixed on the windshield the whole time even though it was too dark to see through it. Coming around to Mike's side of the truck, he pulled the knife from his pocket, flipping it open. To have it ready.

He yanked open the door. Hard. Not seeming to worry if the jolt or shock of being dragged by his hands hurt the other. He pulled it open far enough that Mike was hauled completely from the truck, to the gravel they parked on. And for a moment, Billy just stood there. One hand on the the door, the other holding the knife, watching Mike.

[47redbirds]

He's yanked because of the car door, arms feeling like they're momentarily going to fall out of their sockets before his bare back scrapes along the cement, painful and almost road rash worthy, had he been going faster. He doesn't cry out for help but he does look surprised, the skidding enough to shock him out of what had happened.

The fact that Billy had a knife was all he could focus on, not the whole fact that if Billy gave him the pills which meant he was probably going to be released--or he'd tell himself--but the fact that there was a knife in the person that had just flat out raped him's hands.

No.

"What are you doing?"

[heroeswork]

Billy stood over Mike for a moment longer, just watching him. Deciding. He could let Mike go, or he could take Mike somewhere else. Keep this going for a bit longer. No, he decided. If he let Mike go, he would have a chance to let that need build up again. Then there'd be a true and honest hunt. And he could feel it all over again. Fresh from having to wait.

He stepped toward Mike, knife gripped in his hand. He grabbed the other's bound wrists and sliced through the tape that held him to the door, leaving his wrists still bound together. He just let go, not bothering to help Mike up.

"You're leaving," Billy said simply, before folding up the knife. With nothing else, he started around to the driver's side again.

[47redbirds]

Mike is left with a stinging feeling on his rear and the shocked feeling of abandonment. He wasn't dead--no, he wasn't dead, Mike is assured once the knife is folded that he wouldn't die. Not by Billy.

Though part of him is unsure even as the other moves back to his car. He has pain, pain everywhere, most of it emotional he's feeling--physically, he's nearly numb. It feels like he's nearly numb, at least, though he knows that's not the case. He's probably bleeding, but he'll do an assessment later.

Right now, he watches stiffly from the ground as Billy gets into the car and drives away. He has the pills. That's all that matters, he tells himself. That's all that needs to matter. He takes one, though, dryswallowing it with ease. He still had the first one in his system, sure, but it was all too painful. Mike odesn't need an escape, he needs a temporary cure. Just until he gets his head back on straight.

For now, he walks.

[heroeswork]

Billy had more reason than just further torment to leave Mike bound. It wasn't just a reminder of what Billy had done. It was to delay him. He doubted Mike would try to call for help or flag someone down until he got the tape off. Until he didn't have to explain what happened. At least, this is what Billy allowed himself to believe.

He sprayed Mike with gravel as he tore out of the spot, narrowly missing the man as he directed the truck back onto the road. He needed to find Kelly first. He had no doubt that Mike would go back to the dealer. Revenge or other reasons. It didn't matter. But Billy didn't find Kelly in any of his usual places that night. Calls proved fruitless at first. But just before dawn he finally heard back.

Kelly was pissed. Billy spun a tale about Mike lifting a bag of ten pills off of him at knife point and Kelly believed it with ease. Together they hatched a plan. Kelly wanted the guy broken in half for beating him up, and Billy offered to be the one to break him. They agreed that for the next few nights, Billy would stick close to wherever Kelly was. Lurking near enough that Kelly could text or Billy would see if Mike showed up again.

And they waited.

[47redbirds]

Mike doesn't show. He disappears for a few nights, to himself. Licking his proverbial wounds, talking with his roommates and whoever else decided to crash after a high. Their apartment wasn't exactly a meth house but there wasn't a whole lot in it an not a whole lot to do other than get high and ride it.

Mike, oddly enough, had never really touched anything except painkillers, ecstasy and the occasional line of coke. It was nothing too serious save for his Oxy habit, or he told himself. He also kicked the shit out of Kelly, which meant he needed to lay low and wait for Kelly to not get pissy at him--it had happened a few times before, but nothing out of the ordinary. For Mike.

Now, though? Carlito had fucking stolen his goddamn prize. The reward he got for being unjustly raped and tossed aside like he was nothing, stolen by one of Johnny's girlfriends' friend or brother or whoever-the-fuck. It left him with three more pills, a hangover from hell, and bloodied and bruised knuckles. He's been more angry, lately. Less of the charming boy scout people who didn't know about his habit thought he was. More frustrated.

He's had a nightmare about Billy, before. Waking up in a cold sweat despite the heat in his room. Every time the thought flares up he wills it down with something to take the edge off and a nice cold beer. The thoughts are certainly filling his head, though, as he rounds the corner.

Fucking Carlito. Fuck Billy. Fuck everything, in all honesty. His hood is up, the same hoodie he wore before, and he licks his lips as he approaches, hands in his pockets.

"Yo, Kelly."

[heroeswork]

Kelly was talking to someone as Mike approached. They were in an alley, tucked away from the lights of a street. One of Kelly's usual spots. The figure Kelly spoke to was tall and fairly slender. But he wore an army green jacket with a deep hood pulled up over his face. It was Billy. They were trying to decide if they should give it a few more days. Well, Billy was. Kelly just wanted to let it all go. They spoke quietly, so their voices wouldn't carry.

Billy spotted Mike before he spoke and practically beamed in the shadows of his hood. He tapped at Kelly's arm, muttering. "Just give me something." It took Kelly a moment but he pulled a random slip of paper out of his pocket and passed it off to Billy. So it looked like some sort of deal. Billy took it and moved off, looking for all the world like a junkie not wanting to get caught by whoever Mike was.

As Billy slipped out of sight further down the alley, Kelly focused on Mike. Still sporting the remnants of a black eye, he was seriously unhappy. He held up his hands, halfway between placation and defense. "I've got your usual, Mike," he said. "But try that shit again, and you're cut off, you hear me?"

[47redbirds]

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Mike held his hands up, too, but it wasn't defense. It was to show he was unarmed and had a wad of cash.

Carlito had stolen his drugs? Mike had stolen his money. There's a reason why he doesn't work and can still almost support his habit. "Just don't scam me again and we're good--how you know the guy you referred me to? Billy?" Straight into the questions, handing the other the wad of bills with a mumbled amount of what exactly it was.

He barely paid any attention to the guy that moved off, far more fixated on his pills. "C'mon," hurry up. "I'm in a lot of pain."

[heroeswork]

The question made Kelly hesitated as he dug in his pockets for the pills. But Mike's impatience was enough to help him cover. "You hear things, you know?" He said, with only a slight tension in his voice. "Word-of-mouth and all that. Never even met the guy. You know how it is."

Producing the required amount of pills. "Never had any complaints about the guy before." He handed the pills off to Mike. "There you go, you'll be right as rain in no time, buddy. No reason for anyone to be unhappy tonight."

Meanwhile, Billy waited. Listening. He'd make his move once Mike and Kelly parted. The last thing he wanted was Kelly knowing the truth. Better to keep him thinking Mike's the bad guy in all of this. An easy enough story to buy.

[47redbirds]

"Yeah," Mike said after a while. Smiles, all genuine and witty and grateful. "Yeah, no reason to be unhappy tonight. You ever stop by the drop I'll buy you a beer for the other day, alright?" He meant it. Mostly. Being on friendly terms with Kelly would probably help him in the long run, as long as he could control himself when he's getting fucked over.

Judging from the bloodied knuckles as he hands the money over, he couldn't.

[heroeswork]

Those bloodied knuckles had Kelly obviously worried. He glanced down at them as he took the money, remembering Billy's tale. And he wondered if Mike had spent the week roughing up dealers. And for probably the first time, wondered just where his customer's money had come from. "Yeah...that sounds...good..." Kelly said, taking a slow step back. "I'll take you up on that some day."

He was already retreating into the alley. Putting as much distance between him and Mike as possible. Meanwhile, eager to move, Billy peeked around the corner, waiting for Mike to move. If he didn't follow Kelly, he'd start following Mike.

[47redbirds]

Mike has no reason to be anywhere but home, now, the deal done. Hanging out with Kelly a second longer than he has to reminds him, mostly, of the thing he swears he's not: an addict. He's a degenerate, maybe, and not strictly doing anything legal, but Mike is not an addict.

Even if, as he walks down the alley, opening the baggie and taking a round white pill out, all he can remember is Billy's breathy, desperate words in his ear. About how much he needs it and can't stop, just like Mike. But that hadn't been drugs. That had been...

That had been something else entirely.

He turns the corner, about to pop the pill like candy, and goes to get onto the main drag and back home. He's got to clean the house up since he left it in a mess after Carlito.

[heroeswork]

Billy followed at a safe distance, head bowed and hands in his pockets. His plan was to stick close enough to keep Mike in sight and make his move once they were far from prying eyes. But Mike didn't take the route Billy expected. Out on the busy street, even at this hour, he could lose his target in a heartbeat.

In a snap decision, he rushed forward. He couldn't have Mike slip away so easily. Not this soon. Before Mike could step out onto the street, Billy's hands snapped out, one going for his arm the other to cover his mouth.

[47redbirds]

Mike wasn't expecting it, of course. Mike is paranoid by nature, paranoid by both his personality and how the world works. He's doing something illegal, after all. But shit, why wouldn't Kelly hire some muscle to give Mike a little scare? It's why he'd gone over to the busy street.

The pill nearly sticks in his mouth with how quick the jerking moment is, his attacker's arms snapping whip-quick. Mike is dragged into the shadows, off guard enough to be pulled away from the main drag but not so much he can't fight back once it all clicks into place.

Time to make his knuckles sore a second time today, it seems, and he manages to get out of Billy's grip on his arm just long enough to swing a left hook at the figure's face.

[heroeswork]

The blow was enough to knock Billy back. His grip faltered completely and he staggered back. A thrill shot through him as the pain blossomed in his face. He'd left Mike in such a way that would have absolutely shattered a fair number of people. At least for a short period of time. And yet he still had the full fight in him. This was going to be worth every possible moment.

"Still got some fight, huh?" Billy said, wanting Mike to run. Wanting him to bolt. Wanting to hunt him.

[47redbirds]

Mike doesn't hesitate--he throws his elbow back, trying to connect with Billy's face again--thank god for self-defense lessons as a kid--and immediately bolts. He's woozy, but not as woozy as he'd be without anything in his system. Endorphines are mixing with the painkillers, making him feel almost invincible, almost giving the same effect as cocaine.

He could stay and fight or run, but the last time he had stayed with Billy, it was trouble. He blocks what's in his mind--of duct tape, of how irrational he now gets over checking every car door handle before getting in to make sure it's not rigged--and takes off, ratty sneakers hitting the pavement.

He just has to get out into the main area, maybe duck down another alley and hop a fence....

[heroeswork]

Despite the second blow, Billy took off after Mike rather quickly. Boots dug hard against pavement, following out on to the main street. He was fast. He'd already shown Mike just how strong he was in the truck, but strength didn't always mean speed. He ducked obstacles, knocking into a person here and there without apology. Always letting Mike stay just ahead of him. As if no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite catch up.

He made the sharp turn into the alley shortly behind Mike. And he stopped holding back. Mike hit the fence and Billy was right behind him. He caught the other's ankle before he could go over, fingers closing on it in an iron grip.

"Don't think you can get away that easy," Billy said, with a broad smile.

[47redbirds]

There's panic in the curse word, hovering as the other has his ankle. He'd been about to hop it, and he was close--so close--just ready to go into a neighbours yard before a hand clamps around his ankle.

He'd thought he'd won. He honestly thought Mike could get away, because Billy had been so far behind. He swore it--but that meant Billy was toying with him. Billy was playing with his fucking food.

He can't hit the other with his other foot, as he's still on the fence, fingers clinging to the chainlink with a rattle as he tries his best to stay on it. He's not worried about the fall, it's only a few feet--he's worried about Billy.

Billy and that broad, broad smile.

"Get the fuck away from me."

[heroeswork]

Despite being slightly out of breath from the sprint, Billy seemed unhurried now that he hand hands on Mike. Even as he struggled to hold his grip as Mike tried to fight or escape.

His other hand shot up, grabbing Mike by the back of the sweatshirt. Intent on dragging him off the fence. Throwing him to the ground. Getting on top of him. Anything to keep him from running again. He didn't seem to care if Mike fought back.

[47redbirds]

Mike does fight back--or rather, tries to. With Billy's strong grip on his sweatshirt and his ankle, any attempts at lifting himself back over the fence would be met with Billy's weight and while the other wasn't large by any stretch--except for the obvious--Mike couldn't take the other's weight with just his arms. Himself, yes, but this?

Eventually, even with Mike fussing, Billy can finally get Mike on his stomach where he fell naturally, already cutting himself from the asphalt as he tries in vein to escape. To literally claw his way out. It can't work, and Mike is face-first on the ground, chin against the pavement, arms free and trying in vain to pull himself up.

Mike begins to try to scream for help.

[heroeswork]

Billy fell on top of Mike with ease. Straddling his hips, an arm pressed across his shoulders. That freed his other hand to reach into his pocket to pull out the very same knife he'd used before. There was an audible click and he pressed the very tip of the blade against Mike's cheek. Just enough to draw the smallest trickle of blood.

"You're not stupid enough to scream again, are you?" Billy said quietly, pressing close enough that his lips nearly pressed into Mike's hair.

[47redbirds]

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. That knife presses near his cheek and his entire body tenses like he's just been electrocuted. Even his hands are splayed out on the pavement, and he forgets how to breathe.

No yelling.

Billy's serious. Mike believes Billy's serious because he's seen that look in his eyes, heard that voice in his ear. 'But it hurts,' the dealer had said. 'Just one more... Just give me what I need. Please.'

"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck--Colin. Colin, I don't have anything. I have no money, nothing, okay?" Because it's money, Mike tries to tell himself. Collin's after money.

[heroeswork]

Billy lets out a low, soft chuckle as Mike tried to beg. It was endearing. Really. He twisted the knife against the other's cheek. Not to dig it deeper, but just to keep him aware it was there.

"Oh, it's not money I want," he breathed out. The tip of the knife slowly trailed down over Mike's cheek. "But you must know what I want. I don't doubt you've thought about it. When you're alone. At night." The knife moved to Mike's throat. "I know I have...I couldn't stop thinking about you..."

[47redbirds]

Mike grits his teeth, jaw set the moment that knife trails down his cheek and to his throat, but the hair on the nape of his neck rises and his back arches as if to get away, instinctual.

He swears that Colin would probably be able to tell how he swallows before he tries to say anything else just by the knife near his adams apple as it rises and falls.

He couldn't get the guy out of his head either, but most of that was because he'd wake up with a start if he dreamed about the horrific experience, or when he needed to buy a new phone--which he didn't, getting about as far as the parking lot before remembering how close it was to the bar. Maybe Colin is another type of junkie. One that gets off on fucking straight guys.

...But was he straight?

He breathes heavily out his nose, grunting in anger as he tries half-heartedly to push away, not wanting the other to drag a knife across his jugular. He can't scream, not now. Can't get help. He's screwed.

"All I've thought about is how much you need professional goddamn help, you know that?"