Half the Battle

Shuttering, I cringed away from my delusion so I didn't intensify my cravings. I glanced around at the people taking eyefuls of me as they passed. The last thing I wanted was to push myself over the edge of addiction in this small, confine space filled with so many people. They didn't need to be exposed to my compulsions, no matter how rude most of them were.

I sighed, realizing how little energy I seemed to suddenly have after begging for hours on end. My eyes began heaving themselves shut without my minds consent.

Pulling the handful of bills out of my collecting hat, I stuffed them in the front pocket of my jeans before I had a chance to fall asleep. I was afraid, and knew that someone would see me drifting and steal it if I left it there out in the open. I put the coins in my opposite pocket. It bulged on my side it was so full. All people ever gave was change…

Stowing the hat in the duffel bag next to me, I leaned against the graffiti covered pillar. There was no original white paint left on it that I could see but it just made the subway more colorful in my opinion. I enjoyed the vandal art as I traced over the most recent tag. It was laid out in red spray paint, the letters like sausages, bubbling throughout the words like they were inflated.

I heard my stomach grumble at the first thought I had had about food in what seemed to be weeks. Usually, heroin made its delightful mark in my mind first, over taking anything else I could possibly want. More than food, or water, or just to even breathe, I wanted to be high.

Immediately I brought my mind back to the graffiti, just the distraction I needed. I reminded myself of the innocent people surrounding me. I couldn't unleash the monster that controlled me here, so I focused on the paint. I tried to make out what it said but that seemed to be a long shot as I stared at the fusing letters.

It had probably been written in the middle of the night, rushed so that whoever wrote it wouldn't get caught defacing city property. Though, there were so many other countless works that stood out along the walls that you'd think the fine police officers of New York City would have just given up by now.

"Julie," I dropped my hand from the graffiti and looked up slowly to the familiar voice, calling my name from across the tunnel. I smiled instantly, butterflies swarming in my stomach in happiness that he was back. It killed me to be without him while he found a place for us to stay tonight. Ben was the only stability that I had in this world and the only thing I could count on to come back to me.

His tone was scratchy and low, not wanting to cause anyone's attention other than mine to be drawn to him. I stood as quickly as I could manage, seeing the quick pace that he was approaching me with. I watched him push his way through a crowd of people getting off a recent train.

Each time I saw Ben I was reminded of how handsome and striking he was. Even homeless, dirty and poor he was beautiful.

Though with that thought always came the realization that the situation we were in was entirely my fault. It always made me wince how much guilt I felt that Ben didn’t have to live this way, but that he still be bared it, trying to just make it through, for me.

Every girl used to look at him in same way. You could always see how they would swoon the minute he'd walk into a room, the number of people staring always seemed to be uncountable. Very rarely did any of them have the courage to pick up a conversation with him on their own, like I didn't the first time I had met him.

Now though, fewer girls would look at him when we walked the streets. You could still see the constant double takes as we past, but some of them saw the mask of grime with a first glance, some it took an extra look. It didn't bother him though, as he never seemed to notice the extra attention before.

Regardless, nobody's opinion mattered to me. I could still see it; the angular features of his jaw line, his full lips; the way his dark blue eyes glowed and the sparkle that came from his smile, every feature positioned just right. I could see everything just a perfectly as always.

And I admitted, only to myself, that I actually preferred that less people could see Ben's beauty lying just beneath that fine film of grunge. In my head, it was less people for me to compete with, though I knew that was a waste of thoughts considering the amount of obstacles we've concurred to be together. Nothing was as strong as we were, always acting as one. Still, it was inevitable for me to consider that I might have to fight for him, because it was an utter miracle in my eyes that someone like him, had ever chosen me. Either way, to me, Ben was perfect, from his looks to his kindness, to the simple sound of his voice, no matter the circumstances.

I smiled up at him, leaving my day dream while he pulled me into his arms so tightly I could feel his rib cage pressed fiercely against mine, almost combining like I always when we'd been away from each other for more than was necessary. He had told me once that it was so he could make sure that I was real, that I wasn't going to disappear. After a minute, people began to stare and I pulled back, just barely.

"How much did you make?" Ben asked eagerly as he stuck his hand in my front pocket. He smirked at me when he felt the bottomless pit of the coins. He pulled it out, using two cupped hands to hold it all it as he walked over to our bags.

I stood next to him, taking out the dollar bills. I watched his fingers sort through the change, mumbling numbers as he counted it. He looked up at me when he'd finished, not giving me the total, and I gave him the bills.

"It's mostly ones…" I said quietly even though he knew this already. We did this almost everyday, for the past 5 months and a dollar or two was usually the maximum a single person would give you. They all seemed to walk away happier with themselves, this had been their 'good dead' for the day. Like their dollar would last us for months, happy and cozy. When the truth was every person that walked by could see we needed more, but very few ever offered it.

"Thirty two dollars and twelve cents," He said, sighing as he stared at the money in his hands. "You know this is not nearly enough." Ben's beautiful, pale face began to turn red with irritation, like the beginning stage of sunburn. He looked up at me, his jaw flexing under his reddening skin as I touched his arm to calm him down. "You realize we need more than two times this, right? Where are we going to get forty more bucks from Julie?" His tone became harsher but stayed low, noticing the people piling into a train parked behind us.

"Ben, I'm sorry," I looked away from him, I'm just so tired. I know it's not enough. We'll just buy a smaller bag and you can have it all. I'm good, okay?" I snaked my arms around his waist, trying to turn this block of ice back into his usual warm self. He exhaled loudly as if he was trying to get all the anger out of him, then dropped his head, kissing my brown hair and softly smoothing it with his hand. His lips made a trail to the hallow beneath my ear.

"Its fine," he whispered into my skin. "I don't mind sharing with you baby. You were the one standing down here, not me. We'll get a smaller bag and share it."

Though I'd offered not to, I was so relieved when he'd agreed to follow our usual plan. I knew that seeing the heroin, but not being able to have it would take much more strength than I had right now. And I knew that Ben could tell too, my arms beginning to shake around him. He placed his hands on either side of my face and bent his knees so he was eye level with me. "It'll be okay," he said looking into my eyes, seeing the doubt in them, I'm sure.

I looked down, feeling ashamed but not quite sure why. He was the one person who understood this, the one person who was with me through everything, taking every withdrawal just as hard as I did.

Closing my eyes I kissed him, his hands holding me there ever so gently like I might break if he let go. "Thank you," I murmured against his lips, never sounding so desperate.