"You look like you could do with a joint," Annie, the girl I work with at the bar says.
"I feel like it. I feel like taking anything that comes my way," I mutter, turning away to serve someone. My stress levels maybe double when I feel her hand on my hip and her lips brushing against my ear as she leans up to whisper in it.
"I've got some weed. And we're on break soon," she tells me, sliding the hand on my hip around and up under my shirt. I push it back out and away from me, trying to get away from her and not let her corner me.
"I'm taken." She pouts, her glossy, red lips pushing out as seductively as she can manage.
"Guys cheat on their girls all the time."
"Only if they're assholes," I mutter, pretending that one off with Rayn totally didn't happen. And like Kyle didn't fuck someone else. Fuck, things are so screwed up right now.
"Well you're not a good boy," she says kind of huskily, "I've seen you around. I saw your band and what you all got up to after shows. I saw you in drug dens. You couldn't be a good boy if you tried."
"Doesn't mean I'd casually cheat on my boyfriend for a spliff."
"Boyfriend?" she asks, withdrawing slightly. I nod, pouring a pint for someone. "It's always the gay ones that are worth going after," she sighs, resting her elbows on the bar. She puts her chin on her hand and looks at me. I won't mention that I'm bi to her then. "You don't seem the type, though. I mean, you're quiet, but you don't seem like a faggot." Somehow she manages to say that word in a way that doesn't feel malicious - just the same as anyone would say ‘fuck' or something. I look at her and shrug.
Apparently Annie feels generous today. Or she's hoping that by getting me high, she'll get into my pants. Either way, she gives me that spliff, and we light up outside in the alley.
"Fuck that feels good," I hum, leaning into the wall. She smiles too, sitting down. After a moment I join her on the ground and everything goes shiny.
After work's done, I can barely remember half of it. All I know is I acquired rather a lot of weed. The thought that it might help Kyle sleep occurred to me on the way home, too and I felt just that bit better about having left him alone for so long.
I walk into the bedroom. Kyle doesn't look like he's moved all day. He's still staring. Shit, how can you not sleep when you're that tired already.
"I got something that might help you get some sleep, babe." He stares. He keeps staring when I sit down on the bed with him and while I roll up a joint. "I know this probably isn't the best idea, but if it gets you to sleep..." I mutter, lighting up. I take a drag and pass it to him. Nothing. I nudge him a little. Still nothing. If he wasn't breathing, I'd probably have said he was dead, but I can see his chest moving ever so slightly. "Kyle, babe, c'mon." He curls up a tiny bit more and I sigh, hoping that the smoke in the air might have an effect on him at least.
Eventually I fall asleep, from a mix of the weed and sheer mental exhaustion from worrying about Kyle all day. When I wake back up, I'm all snuggled up to him, but he looks kinda dead.
To say the worry comes back when I realise his breathing's kinda slow is a bit of an understatement.
"Kyle?" I ask, worried. He mumbles something, but I don't catch what he says. "What?"
He says it again, still so quiet that I have to strain to hear him, but this time, I catch it. And really wish I hadn't. "Kill me," he says. I think my heart stops for a minute. I freeze. I genuinely feel so fucking shocked and horrified that he wants me to kill him that I can't think or breathe. It's like time's stood still and makes me stop with it. Because how are you supposed to react when your lover asks you to kill them?
I sort of smother him in a clinging hug, trying not to burst into tears for the millionth time in the last couple days. "I'm not gonna kill you."
"How many times do I have to tell you to make you believe I love you?"
"I don't wanna feel like this anymore. Please."
"I can't," I sniffle.
"Please, Damien," he says, on the verge of crying. Yeah, I start crying at that. He's crying too now, as he pleads with me, "Please. Gorgeous, I'm begging you."
I shake my head, "I can't," I repeat. "You're the only thing in my life worth living for. I can't... I can't."