Cocaine Kisses
Chapter Three
“I’ll get us out of this, Bill, one day it’ll just be me and you.”
“Forever, Tomi?”
“Forever.” The older promised, pressing a kiss to the raven haired boy’s lips, pulling away and resting their foreheads together. “I promise.”
“I’ll wait for you. You know I’d wait forever.”
“It won’t be that long, just a few months, and then we can be together.”
“Really?”
“Really. I promise.”
***
Tom feels sick to his stomach as he waits.
“I’ll wait for you.”
He wonders how much longer his baby brother will be left waiting for him in an otherwise empty hotel room.
Watching Pete close the deal, the green-eyed American handling the situation with the deft efficiency Tom had come to expect from him, an unlit cigarette dangling from between his lips as Pete hands the woman the bags and she hands him the cash at the jacked-up prices he tells her it’s worth and she leaves, Pete wandering over to the dreadlocked boy, lighting the cigarette casually and blowing the smoke into the cold night air.
“How’s Bill?”
Hearing the name slip so casually from between his lips and it takes Tom a moment to respond as his mind considers all the various possibilities.
He’s losing weight and he keeps crying, I’m worried he’s going to kill himself soon.
“He’s fine. How’s Patrick?”
“Wha- Pat? Oh, oh, he’s fine…”
Tom knows Pete’s lying, and Pete knows Tom’s lying. Neither say a word about it though.
They don’t need to.
***
The can drops to the floor, the dull clang muffled slightly by the worn carpet and Tom falls backwards, staring up at the ceiling in what could be a thoughtful manner but is really just a drunken haze.
It's numb, it's good.
Vision blurry, blurry is good, it means he doesn’t see brown eyes every time his own flicker shut.
Vision fading, fading good, hopefully dreamless sleep. Dreamless is definitely good, no more brown eyes, no more waking in the middle of the night, screams frozen to his lips.
It was his intention to forget and now he doesn’t even remember the name of his brown eyed twin locked in a hotel room somewhere across the city.
“I’ll wait for you.”
Sometimes he caught himself wishing that Bill wouldn’t keep waiting.
But numb, numb was good, numb meant no pain, numb meant no Bill.
Numb was definitely good.
“Forever, Tomi?”
“Forever.” The older promised, pressing a kiss to the raven haired boy’s lips, pulling away and resting their foreheads together. “I promise.”
“I’ll wait for you. You know I’d wait forever.”
“It won’t be that long, just a few months, and then we can be together.”
“Really?”
“Really. I promise.”
***
Tom feels sick to his stomach as he waits.
“I’ll wait for you.”
He wonders how much longer his baby brother will be left waiting for him in an otherwise empty hotel room.
Watching Pete close the deal, the green-eyed American handling the situation with the deft efficiency Tom had come to expect from him, an unlit cigarette dangling from between his lips as Pete hands the woman the bags and she hands him the cash at the jacked-up prices he tells her it’s worth and she leaves, Pete wandering over to the dreadlocked boy, lighting the cigarette casually and blowing the smoke into the cold night air.
“How’s Bill?”
Hearing the name slip so casually from between his lips and it takes Tom a moment to respond as his mind considers all the various possibilities.
He’s losing weight and he keeps crying, I’m worried he’s going to kill himself soon.
“He’s fine. How’s Patrick?”
“Wha- Pat? Oh, oh, he’s fine…”
Tom knows Pete’s lying, and Pete knows Tom’s lying. Neither say a word about it though.
They don’t need to.
***
The can drops to the floor, the dull clang muffled slightly by the worn carpet and Tom falls backwards, staring up at the ceiling in what could be a thoughtful manner but is really just a drunken haze.
It's numb, it's good.
Vision blurry, blurry is good, it means he doesn’t see brown eyes every time his own flicker shut.
Vision fading, fading good, hopefully dreamless sleep. Dreamless is definitely good, no more brown eyes, no more waking in the middle of the night, screams frozen to his lips.
It was his intention to forget and now he doesn’t even remember the name of his brown eyed twin locked in a hotel room somewhere across the city.
“I’ll wait for you.”
Sometimes he caught himself wishing that Bill wouldn’t keep waiting.
But numb, numb was good, numb meant no pain, numb meant no Bill.
Numb was definitely good.