Hand Me My Gun

My hands laced themselves through my hair, tugging forcefully until my scalp burned deliciously. I could feel how slick the strands were, greasy from days without any contact with anything other than my pillowcase and cigarette smoke. I was sure it smelt rancid, but so did the rest of my body, I was sure. Maybe I was just used to it.
My eyelids peeled back agonizingly, but no light broke through my heavy curtains. I blinked away the blurs until I could make out the faint glow of my answering machine.
“Seventeen messages,” I attempted to groan, but my lips cracked painfully, dry from neglect, and my voice came out in a trembling whisper.
My eyes felt heavy, and the pounding in my ears didn’t cease until I hauled my body upwards. I groaned, forcing myself not to inhale through my mouth, knowing I was in no state to make a trip to the bathroom, and my stomach had nothing to hurl up. My shoulders trembled pitifully, weak and useless. I didn’t even bother moving the rest of my body; I left my legs tangled in the heap of my unkempt bed sheets.
“You up?” Jack’s dark head poked itself through the crack in my door, letting in a waft of fresh air. His expression showed hesitance; he still felt like he was walking on eggshells.
I let out a sigh and nodded. I offered a warm smile.
He returned it eagerly and made his way over to me, dodging piles of clothing and trash. “I’m sorry we have to live like this,” he frowned, brushing my filthy hair out of my eyes.
I nodded, vaguely aware of what he was really apologizing for; ensuring we lived under the radar for an unfairly long amount of time.
“Why don’t we go have a shower?” he rubbed my arm soothingly. His eyes held nothing but concern and love.
I traced his clean-shaved face and sparkling brown eyes. He had already showered; he was just trying to be nice about me and my stench. “Can we have shower sex?” I tried to turn my face so he wasn’t hit with a wave of nausea.
He grinned and nodded vigorously. “Anything for you, my Love.”
My heart twitched in my chest, letting me know that he was still, in fact, the boy I had fallen for. I took in a shaky breath and nodded. My legs peeled themselves away from the dirty sheets, trembling from the cool air.
“I made breakfast,” Jack’s eyes lit up at the idea of me finally eating something. He wrapped his arm around my waist and helped hoist me up.
“Maybe we can go out for breakfast.”
He paused and studied my expression. “The people here are worse than back home, Alex,” he cautioned.
“Fuck ’em,” I grinned, for the first time in a long time. “I wanna parade around this city with the sexiest man alive.”