I couldn't think of what I might've done this time to make Kyle leave. Phil hadn't been over for ages, so it wasn't that, the perv hadn't been around, so it wasn't him, I was nearly off the drugs and hadn't had a relapse for ages, so it can't have been that... Nothing came to mind at all.
So why was he gone?
I'd come back from band practice, feeling all pumped and happy, and looking forward to the gig later on that night, only to come home to an empty apartment. I figured maybe he'd gone out, but the hours went by and soon enough I'd had to go out again. Maybe he'd turn up at the gig.
But he didn't.
In fact, he didn't turn up for a whole week. I'd done my best, but the time alone hadn't exactly done wonders for the whole getting off drugs thing. After about two days, I was convinced he'd left me again, this time for good, and that there was no longer any reason to stay clean.
So by the time I heard from him, I was high as a kite.
"Hello?" I slur in the general direction of the phone speaker.
"Hey, gorgeous," Kyle's voice replies.
"Oh. It's you," I mutter with a kind of sigh, "I got the point. You don't need to call to tell me you didn't wanna be with me anymore."
"I haven't left you. I'm sorry I couldn't call sooner."
"If you haven't left me, why're you not here?"
"Wha?" I ask, not exactly getting what he means by that.
"She showed up and I got dragged off to the crazy house," he says, not sounding too happy about that.
"Oh." I close my eyes and roll over, feeling kinda sleepy.
"How've you been?"
"D'you really need to ask?"
"I guess not, I just miss hearing your voice," he gives a baby of a chuckle and I hum tiredly. "Damien?"
"I feel like I'm floating," I smile to myself.
"What did you take?" he asks, all worried. I dunno why he's worrying - I feel great.
"I dunno. Smack, mostly."
"Enough to make me float. Everything's all far away, and nothing matters," I let out another happy hum. "'Cause I felt like shit, and I thought you'd left me. So there was no point staying clean, y'know?"
"I'm so sorry, gorgeous. They wouldn't let me call you." I just hum again, the ability to think further than that escaping me. "Promise me you'll come see me as soon as you can?" he asks, but I can't talk anymore. "Damien?" I still don't say anything. "Say something, gorgeous," he says, sounding just a little bit worried.
"M'sleepy, lemme alone," I whine quietly.
"Luff," I slur.
"Luff you too."
"Can you call Rayn and tell him to wake me up when it's time for practice?"
"Oh, y'know how your mom said my mom had given up on me? I called and asked her the other day. She told me she has," I giggle a tiny bit.
"I'm sure she hasn't really."
"She has. She doesn't care anymore."
"Well I care," he says.
"I know you do," I mumble. But the funny thing is, you're not my mom, Kyle. I'd be kinda worried if you were.
"Well then, if you get off the drugs completely, you can prove her wrong for giving up on you, can't you?"
"If I'm still alive after this hit," I laugh, not really knowing what I'm laughing at.
"What?" he says in that worried tone of his.
"Babe, you're gonna give me a heart attack saying stuff like that."
"Well, put it this way, if I stop talking I've either fallen asleep or died." And I think there's a fairly good chance it could be either, to be honest.
"Please call an ambulance or something," he pleads with me, sounding like he's having a mini heart attack.
"That's effort," I whine.
"Please, Damien." I whine again. I don't really want to, because to be honest, when I took too much, it wasn't exactly what you would call an accident. "Please. I don't want to risk losing you."
"What difference would it make? They're hardly gonna let you out of the loony bin for ages."
"I can't lose you. You mean everything to me."
I heave a sigh. "Fine," I mutter, hanging up. It takes a lot of effort to call them, but I somehow manage it. Apparently I called them just in time. What a coincidence.