the ties :: tubercular skies and dkakes

[tubercular skies]

this is a one on one between tubercular skies and dkakes

 

[tubercular skies]

• • • • • • • • • • • 
                      
                      
                      The sweater wasn't doing much in terms of warmth and Jon wished he had the blanket he'd gotten before, but it wasn't like he was going to go begging for a fucking blanket. He wasn't a charity case and he wasn't going to let the nurses have a one up on him in any way possible. They were partially the reason he was in this condition. They watched and monitored him like he was an experiment--pfft. There was no like to it. Jon was a fucking experiment and they were testing new shit on him to see if the others would live through it. Was this something that the other 2000s had to deal with? Maybe they just hadn't survived.
                      
                      In the end, Jon was replaceable. Someone else would surely get his power. Who was to say he was the only one with it? Jon's exhausted, dull eyes began to scan the congregation in the common room. It didn't look like any of them would have his power, but it didn't look like he had any special powers either. It just looked like he was dying slowly....not unlike everyone else.
                      
                      Jon snorted out of contempt. That was pretty much all he could do at that point.
                      
                      Trannie was also noticing how shit he was looking lately. His DTs were becoming increasingly apparent. He sniffled and rolled his eyes, looking away from her. Absentmindedly, he began to claw at his arm, and claw, and claw, and claw, and claw. Scratching through the sweater was shit so he ended up inside and the clawing got even worse. Since he'd been stuck in the Clinic, his nails were getting on the longer side. Removing skin was easier than it should have been, but it didn't stop him. "Ahm fine," he gruffly lied like a bark. It didn't matter. Trannie didn't need to know shit. All she needed to know was that he was fucking alive and he wanted her pills if she wanted answers.
                      
                      If he was a real dick, he could have counted that as a question, but he just didn't have the energy to be his total dickhead self. Trannie may think he was being a total cockwag, but he was running on fumes and any hate the spilled felt like it took from his energy. It felt weird that Jon had to conserve his energy by talking as little as possible.
                      
                      For some reason, she still gave a fuck about him. Rather than the normal amount, she handed him a baggie with some pills. Jon took it as his eyes turned to slits. Should he trust her? What was this about? What made the situation worse was the smile that stuck to her face like herpes. The sweater was large enough on his coat-hanger-like body to easily eat his hand if he pulled his arm back slightly.
                      
                      Why did Trannie smile? What was up with the pills? Jon couldn't look at the pills, but what would she gain from killing him off? How could she even kill him off? She couldn't....she wouldn't. Jon's fingers moved the pills around in the plastic, staring at her with distrust.
                      
                      Fuck it. Jon felt like shit and the cure was in between his fingers.
                      
                      While he usually took one pill, he slipped out two and slipped them into his mouth with his boney fingers. The look of his hands was beginning to look more like a living skeleton. His skin was tautly stretched over the bones. Jon would have to start eating soon or he wouldn't live much longer.
                      
                      The double dose was bitter, but he began to chew them up in his mouth. It broke down better when the outer coating was broken down. The pills were swallowed and Jon's face crumpled in disgust. He never liked the bitter taste, but even if his tongue rejected the taste, his mind savored it. It was like a full rotisserie chicken dripping in butter to a fat girl. It was a taste his mind came to love and anticipate...that was before he switched to heroin. Pills were always too fucking expensive and heroin was cheap. Cheap won every time.
                      
                      It felt like forever before the pills began to kick in. It probably was a much shorter time than Jon would guess. Time was taunting him every second of every day of every week of every month. His nails pressed against the skin in his palms until he felt the familiar warmth from the pills and the lightheadedness of God.
                      
                      Trannie must have noticed that the pills were kicking in. That, or she heard the long, drawn-out sign that leaked from his mouth. It was like Jon was getting head by an expert, but much more. The pills constricted his pupils and he could hear Trannie asking if he was feeling better.
                      
                      If she looked close enough, she could see the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. The double dose coursed through his body and he felt better than he had in days, weeks even. Fuck trying to distance himself and fuck trying to make his stash last. At this rate, he was going to die, and if he was going to die, he was going to bite the bullet with a smile on his face and opiates in his veins. Jon wanted to take so much his brain wouldn't ever recover and his breathing would stop. Oh, god the edge. The edge he'd always dreamed about but couldn't achieve.
                      
                      After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and looked down at Trannie with a content look on his face. The pin-point pupils stared at her and he nodded slowly. "Ahm fine," he said again, but it was much different than before. It was quiet, almost like a whisper, but it was like he wanted to keep it a secret. The fact he was feeling good was a secret only for Trannie and him. This was the answer to all their problems. This was the holy grail of moods.​

 

[dkakes]

• • • • • • • • He was going to start bleeding soon. Jules noticed the scratching. Obviously. Anyone with fucking eyes would see it. She thought he’d tear through the sweater, honestly. Then he went underneath. Fucking idiot. She got the itching thing but Even Numbers was being a dumbass. He was going to start bleeding. Then the nurses would wonder what the fuck was going on. Then they’d come over and harass them and everything would go to shit. The baggie would be found and they’d both be fucked. Jules did not relish the idea of having whatever punishment they decided would work that day. Who knew what it would be. But no. Not today. She wanted to reach out and slap his stupid boney fingers but that would end well. She happened to enjoy all of her body working right. Especially her hands. She could still feel the pain of her thumbs if she thought hard enough. Even though the body couldn’t actually remember what the actual pain felt like. That’s why dumb cunts kept popping out kids. Ugh.
                
                And he lied to her face. Like she was a dumb cunt. Yeah, he was “fine.” Definitely. Being a soggy mess was obviously normal. He wasn’t going through withdrawals at all. How dare she ask! Jules immediately regretting giving a shit. She still didn’t know why she did in the first place. Even Numbers was in the running for biggest cocksucker she’d ever met. High in the ranks too. But desperate times or some shit. She flipped some hair out of her face by flicking her head and wished Max was there. He would know what to do. He always knew what to do. Better than this asshole at least. He seemed just fine living in hell and feeling like death. Yeah. That must have been what he meant by fine.
                
                He finally took the bag after acting like a little bitch about it. What could she possibly do to him? She didn’t care enough to hurt him. Fuck him. He was already close to dying if his skinny ass was any clue. He looked even more like Skeletor than ever before. But there was this nagging thing, annoying fucking thing, in the back of her head that wanted to tell him he needed to quit being a bitch and eat something. Jules knew that DTs weren’t exactly the most enjoyable thing on earth and that you didn’t feel like doing anything but c’mon. What kind of pussy just gave up and died over it?
                
                She just kept smiling. Smiling smiling smiling. No need to question her! None at all. She hoped it would help him but it seemed like it just made him even more suspicious. Evidently Even Numbers had never had anyone be a decent person to him before. Must have been why he was such a shithead. Once he put the pills in his mouth she shrugged and looked away. If he was so weirded out by niceness she couldn’t help that. Maybe she wouldn’t be nice anymore. Her first two fingers rubbed up and down her knee. He would feel better soon. It always felt good. She could still remember.
                
                And quick enough, it hit him. She knew the second it did. She could almost feel it herself. This was the time to ask if he felt better and she did. Jules faced him again and chuckled at his response. “Yeah, yeah you are.” Was that flirty? Eww. Fuck. She didn’t mean it that way. Not that he would notice anyway. He was on another plane at that point. It almost made her ache to have it back. She hadn’t gotten high in years but fuck. That was the best feeling on earth. Better than anything else. Even combined. It was better than having an orgasm while eating your favorite meal cooked by an expert and smoking a cigarette at the same time. Or some other shit. Whatever. Just because she hadn’t done it in years didn’t mean she couldn’t still miss it sometimes. Right? As long as she didn’t do anything it was cool. All cool.
                
                Was he smiling, though? Jules’ eyebrows knitted slightly as she looked directly at his mouth. She heard the whisper, obviously, but lookie there! The trace of a smile. The first she’d ever seen on his face. It was a good look for the fucker. She had to keep herself from laughing at him so she bit her lip. Couldn’t help smiling too, though. It was half hilarious and half longing for her.
                
                “Alright. What’s your name anyway?” Her legs slumped down into the cross legged position. This was the perfect time to ask. Absolutely fucking perfect. Even Numbers was high. He was less assholey this way. “It’ll be a question. I don’t give a fuck.” She shrugged and kept looking at him. It just kept getting weirder and weirder that she didn’t know his name. Only knowing someone by a number was fucking wrong. At least she’d been a decent human and given him hers. It was only like, y’know, basic human interaction. Evidently Even Numbers didn’t understand how being a human worked anymore.
                
                Was she wasting a question? Yeah. Probably. There was far more important shit to ask. She knew that. But he was kind of adorable high and she wanted to maybe be nice? Maybe? She had told herself she’d be nice. So that was fine. This was just how that worked. Besides, if he was that high he would be useless for most things anyway. Like what the fuck was even going on here. Jules still barely knew shit. Which was annoying as fuck, obviously. But whatever. She could deal for now. She had the feeling that Even Numbers would be much nicer this way. Or at least she hoped so. They could just shoot the shit for a while. Conversation was hard to come by and it felt like she hadn’t opened her mouth or spoken in a week.
                
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