Cocaine Kisses
Chapter One
When Bill wakes, Tom’s not with him. He never is.
The dark haired boy sighs, sitting up and reaching for his boxers, slipping them over slender hips, brown eyes searching the room for anything… any sign that Tom was there, was really with him the night before… finding nothing.
It’s like it normally is with the slight exception of the rumpled bedsheets and the fact that pain shoots up through his spine when he tries to move.
He lies back and brown eyes close, a crystal tear escaping from one corner, wishing with all his heart just to reverse the hourglass, to turn it over and escape.
***
Miles away, eyes identical to his own slide open and Tom sighs, hating to leave behind Bill every time, but he has to, neither would survive if he didn’t.
“Are you listening, Mr. Kaulitz?”
Snapping back to reality and Tom nods hurriedly.
“Yeah, yeah…”
“Good, now when you pick up the suitcase, bring it straight back here, you understand me?”
Tom nods again, sighing heavily and looking down at his feet, kicking at the scuffed carpet, his thoughts never leaving the boy he left behind the night before.
“So you know where to pick up?”
“The alley just off the high street at ten.”
The other man smiled. “And how was last night?”
“It was fine, thank you.” Tom managed to get out through gritted teeth, feeling like knocking the other mans teeth down his throat for bringing it up.
“And how is he?”
“Losing weight.” Tom’s eyes stayed fixed on his trainers.
The other clicked his tongue in clear annoyance, saying nothing but his feelings were apparent, lingering in the air around him like smoke… or maybe that was just the excess amounts of cologne the man almost always seemed to wear.
Tom took the opportunity to leave, hurrying from the office, grabbing his jacket from the peg where he left it and all but sprinting from the building.
***
The alley was dark but brown eyes were so used to it by now that it made no difference.
Perched on the edge of a dustbin, inhaling the silence… three minutes early, no wonder no one was around.
A hacking cough and shuffling footsteps, the older man, greasy-haired and a face like a bloodhounds stalks nervously down the alleyway, looking rather alarmed at the sight of the teenager sitting calmly atop a dustbin.
“You… Tom…” The words aren’t needed but the older man just seems to want to be sure who he’s handing over ten thousand dollars worth of cocaine to.
Tom nods, sharp brown eyes quickly focusing in on the rucksack the man has ‘casually’ slung over one shoulder.
Another cough and the rucksack falls to the ground in front of the nineteen-year-old while the man’s bloodshot eyes gaze expectantly at the brown eyed teenager who sighs, drawing from one pocket of his hoodie, the wad of cash he was given earlier and he hands it over.
Looping one wrist through the rucksack’s handle and pulling it up, checking the substance within while the older checks that the full ten thousand is correct.
Exchanging weak smiles and parting ways, the older to crawl back down whatever shithole he came from, the younger to ‘drop off’ the coke and return to the little flat he was given a month ago, itself not being much better than the gutter, but at least it was dry-ish and safer if you didn’t count the number of shootings that so regularly happened on the street below.
Tom almost forgot to feel guilty after the third body was found.
The dark haired boy sighs, sitting up and reaching for his boxers, slipping them over slender hips, brown eyes searching the room for anything… any sign that Tom was there, was really with him the night before… finding nothing.
It’s like it normally is with the slight exception of the rumpled bedsheets and the fact that pain shoots up through his spine when he tries to move.
He lies back and brown eyes close, a crystal tear escaping from one corner, wishing with all his heart just to reverse the hourglass, to turn it over and escape.
***
Miles away, eyes identical to his own slide open and Tom sighs, hating to leave behind Bill every time, but he has to, neither would survive if he didn’t.
“Are you listening, Mr. Kaulitz?”
Snapping back to reality and Tom nods hurriedly.
“Yeah, yeah…”
“Good, now when you pick up the suitcase, bring it straight back here, you understand me?”
Tom nods again, sighing heavily and looking down at his feet, kicking at the scuffed carpet, his thoughts never leaving the boy he left behind the night before.
“So you know where to pick up?”
“The alley just off the high street at ten.”
The other man smiled. “And how was last night?”
“It was fine, thank you.” Tom managed to get out through gritted teeth, feeling like knocking the other mans teeth down his throat for bringing it up.
“And how is he?”
“Losing weight.” Tom’s eyes stayed fixed on his trainers.
The other clicked his tongue in clear annoyance, saying nothing but his feelings were apparent, lingering in the air around him like smoke… or maybe that was just the excess amounts of cologne the man almost always seemed to wear.
Tom took the opportunity to leave, hurrying from the office, grabbing his jacket from the peg where he left it and all but sprinting from the building.
***
The alley was dark but brown eyes were so used to it by now that it made no difference.
Perched on the edge of a dustbin, inhaling the silence… three minutes early, no wonder no one was around.
A hacking cough and shuffling footsteps, the older man, greasy-haired and a face like a bloodhounds stalks nervously down the alleyway, looking rather alarmed at the sight of the teenager sitting calmly atop a dustbin.
“You… Tom…” The words aren’t needed but the older man just seems to want to be sure who he’s handing over ten thousand dollars worth of cocaine to.
Tom nods, sharp brown eyes quickly focusing in on the rucksack the man has ‘casually’ slung over one shoulder.
Another cough and the rucksack falls to the ground in front of the nineteen-year-old while the man’s bloodshot eyes gaze expectantly at the brown eyed teenager who sighs, drawing from one pocket of his hoodie, the wad of cash he was given earlier and he hands it over.
Looping one wrist through the rucksack’s handle and pulling it up, checking the substance within while the older checks that the full ten thousand is correct.
Exchanging weak smiles and parting ways, the older to crawl back down whatever shithole he came from, the younger to ‘drop off’ the coke and return to the little flat he was given a month ago, itself not being much better than the gutter, but at least it was dry-ish and safer if you didn’t count the number of shootings that so regularly happened on the street below.
Tom almost forgot to feel guilty after the third body was found.