New York, New York, plenty of stuff to do that isn't horribly touristy and what does Kyle want to do? Go off and be a big tourist. What do I want to do? Well, to be honest, I wouldn't mind doing the touristy stuff while I'm high, but that's honestly the only way you'll get me to do anything remotely tourist-like.
"Do I look like the kind of person any sane security guy would let in any touristy places?" I ask, measuring my methadone dose out into a syringe.
"Maybe not, then," he chuckles. I smile slightly, pulling my belt off and tying it around my arm. Holding it in place with my teeth, I shoot up, ignoring as Kyle kind of looks away until I'm done. He gives me a tiny smile as I put the stuff away. I return his baby of a smile with one equally small. He lets out a yawn .
"How can you be up for touristy stuff if you're so tired anyways?"
"I'm not tired, silly. I'm bored." I shrug.
"Well we can go do tourist stuff if you want."
"It's up to you."
"Why's it up to me?" I pout.
"Because I've already made up my mind." I consider it for a moment.
"Sure. So long as I don't get kicked out of places." He smiles and I get up, slipping the bag of coke into my wallet while I wait for him to get dressed. He gives me another smile when he's done and I take his hand, walking out with him. I notice him being kinda clingy, and though I don't mind, I do wonder why.
"What're we gonna go see first?" I shrug.
"Somewhere we can get a camera?" he nods and we set off looking for a shop somewhere that we can buy a camera.
"Where to now, hotshot?" he asks once we're done.
"You're the tourist. I dunno anywhere except for the Statue of Liberty."
"Me either," he laughs.
"How about we start there, then?"
There's a bunch of touristy stuff that I couldn't really care less about, but there is a pamphlet about other stuff we can do in New York. I read that while Kyle pays attention to the touristy crap. I take pictures of him by the statue and we did a few that looks like we were leaning on or holding the statue - you know the ones.
Inevitably I get bored of the tourist stuff and slip off to the toilet, telling Kyle to look after the camera. I lock myself in one of the stalls and do a couple lines of the coke I sneaked in with me. Can you blame me? I did only give myself enough methadone to stop myself being sick, not enough to be high. I'm well aware that when I get back, I'm kinda wired. I see Kyle arch his eyebrow at me, so I pretend to be interested in the tourist guide's rambling.
Unfortunately, my attention span is about two seconds, and I can't stop fidgeting a little bit. After a moment, Kyle drags me off somewhere we won't be noticed.
"Did you take something?" I sniff a bit, kind of betraying myself, and Kyle's jaw drops.
"What?" he gives me a sulky face, "Whaaaat?" he won't answer me and realising I'm not going to get an answer turns me back to fidgeting and not paying attention. His sulky face gets even more sulky and I kiss him. He doesn't kiss back. I pull back. "Want some?" he sighs and I try to figure out what's wrong. If I'd been sober, I probably would have realised, but y'know. He tries to walk off and I decide trying an apology. That usually works, right?
Well it does til they ask you what you think you're apologising for. I grab his arm, "Kyle, I'm sorry." He kind of rolls his eyes and even in this state, I can tell the apology was a failure. I let go of him again.
"I'm trying my best to be patient with you, Damien." Oh right. He's pissed I'm high. Guess that makes sense.
"Yeah, I know. I'll wait outside for you." He looks kinda pissy, and doesn't say anything, so I walk off, planning to just sit outside on a bench somewhere and ride put my high. But this is me. It's never that simple. I end up sneaking off somewhere to do a couple more lines, look up as I'm snorting it, see a boat, and decide it'll be a really good idea to back flip off of the nice solid ground, onto a passing boat and then hijack it.
Unfortunately for me, I smashed the windshield, and it happened to be full of cops.