While Kyle's downstairs, Phil decides it's time for me to get up. We go through our usual duvet-snatching, whining, dragging, forced undressing routine into the shower with the only difference being that halfway through Phil dragging me across the landing and me shouting at him, Kyle comes up to see what the fuck is going on.
"Fuck off!" I yell being as much of a dead weight as I can be. Which is hard when you're mostly skin and bones, but y'know. Kyle arches his eyebrow at us but both of us ignore him.
"If you could get out of bed and to work on time, I wouldn't have to do this," Phil shouts back, "I'm more like your fucking father than a friend these days."
"Sorry, what's going on?" he asks, his eyebrow still somewhere up in his hairline.
"Like I said to you at the diner, he doesn't do anything anymore. Not unless you force him, or bribe him to," Phil says, sounding more than a little frustrated. Kyle looks at me, just lying there, slightly out of arm's reach of the landing rail.
"C'mon, gorgeous. I don't like seeing you like this," Kyle says softly. I don't say anything, not all that interested in how he likes seeing me - all I want is for someone to just fucking get me some smack. "Please, babe." I don't think ‘please, babe' is really going to make me move, do you? His face is overtaken by a sad expression, but I still don't do anything even remotely close to moving. Phil just sighs and goes back to dragging me into the bathroom.
"Maybe next time, mate." I hear Kyle heave out a sigh before I'm pulled onto the cold tiles and the door's shut. "C'mon, are you actually going to undress yourself for once, or do I have to do that too?" I glare up at him and he rolls his eyes, but Kyle is apparently sitting outside, listening in.
"Keep your hands to yourself, prick," he warns through the door.
"Fuck off, Kyle," Phil says, stripping me of my shirt.
"You fuck off," Kyle responds.
"Y'know, I'd love to, but from the sounds of what was going on in the kitchen, I don't think you're really capable of looking after yourself, let alone someone else." Kyle doesn't really reply to that, just kind of grumbling as Phil starts to undress me, turning the shower on to warm up before we get in.
"Don't you dare get in there with him," Kyle says grumpily through the door. Neither Phil or me say anything, because Phil's too busy trying to get me to stand up, and I'm too busy being a dick to really care about replying. "Bastard," we hear through the door. Phil shakes his head, washing himself before turning to me.
After a while, Kyle apparently gets bored, or too pissed off to wait any longer, and storms in, just in time to see Phil washing me. We look up, both of us somewhat surprised by the rage on Kyle's face.
"Get your fucking hands off him," Kyle demands angrily. Phil scowls.
"We don't have time for this," he says.
"You obviously didn't hear me so I'll say it again; get your fucking hands off him." Phil lifts his hands up away from me. "Much better."
"You're welcome to finish off," Phil says irritably, getting out of the shower and wrapping a towel around him, "might want to be careful of his skin, though." Kyle glares at him a little as he walks out, joining me in the shower. I just stay exactly how I am, laid out in the tub, being a stubborn little shit.
"I really do love you, Damien," he says flashing me a little smile.
"So why'd you go?" I almost whisper.
"'Cause I thought you didn't love me."
"Kyle, if I didn't love you, I'd have told you that. I'm not that pathetic that I'd feel the need to lie to you about it."
"I know. But I was just so convinced you were only keeping me around so you had someone til you could get back to Phil, I just..." I sigh and sit up, pulling him into a cuddle. He cuddles back, and we stay like that til Phil comes back up to tell us I need to get dressed.
It's obvious Kyle doesn't want me to go, and I can't say I really want to go either, but Phil bangs on the door. "Damien, they're gonna drop you if you're late again. Get your ass dressed and downstairs."
Kyle pulls his sad face, kissing me a little, "Better get ready, gorgeous." I kiss back, flopping down into the tub again with a pout pulling at my lips. He prods me a bit, but I don't do anything and Phil bangs on the door again.
"C'mon, babe, do it for me," he says, a tiny smile breaking through the sadness on his features. I whine. "Pwease?" That's not fair. I don't want to go. I don't want to go, I don't want to go, I don't want to go. "Why not?"
"Why don't you wanna go?" Was I saying out loud or something?
"Why would I want to go? There's no drugs there, I have to deal with people that expect something from me, I just... don't want to fucking go."
"C'mon, Damien," Phil says from the doorway, "you might not wanna do it, but it gets you money, right?" I nod a little. "Pull him out," he tells Kyle, getting a towel ready. Kyle gets me out of the shower and Phil wraps the towel around me, drying me off. Kyle just watches this, staying in the bathroom when Phil takes me to my room to get me dressed. "You gonna come with us to the studio?" he asks Kyle when I'm finally ready to go.