Levity

They were on their third apartment in as many months.

That wasn't unusual in the slightest, not with what they were involved in. What was weird for Wade though was the setup. Wade got out of places when it looked at all like shit might go down. There had been a couple of tricky spots but Wade was still with the guy he had met nearly six months ago. That was a record.

This apartment even had a second room, so he had a bed to call his own. At least for whatever short period of time they were here. He was embracing that as thoroughly as possible, plus, had a bath. A bath! It was cramped, of course, the tub slightly rusting underneath but he'd felt about as relaxed as he could remember. And, since it was quiet at the moment. Jack had made a shit tonne of money, was working out who he owed what too (somewhat admirable that he actually did that – but then he was smarter than most in this game, keep people happy less chance of them literally stabbing you in the back) and then, well Wade supposed he would reap some of the benefits. He yawned, they'd been here for a couple of weeks now. Spruced the place up a little. Creature comforts. He fidgeted, tugging the blanket up over his chest and slamming his head down onto the plush pillow. This wasn't bad, not bad at all.

He was almost asleep when he started to hear them and with a groan he rolled on his side, hitting his head down harder as if to drown them out. He didn't know what was worse, listening to them have sex, with the incessant squeak of the bed, or listening to them argue. That was a lie, even to himself. He certainly preferred the former, especially those times when he could hear her. There could never be any indication of that, he might as well cut his own dick off if Jack was ever to get that idea. He was extremely firm with himself, but unfortunately, with such thin walls, his body reacted. He let himself go then, allowed himself to give in to the temptation and imagine how she looked when she was making such a delicious fucking sound.

Afterwards it all went quiet and Wade, with that now familiar little bite of shame managed to dream.

Wade needed to get laid. It was a simple as that, that would certainly sort the odd mixture of hormones and emotions. Wade didn't get jealous, especially not with girls. He knew he was decent looking, and he knew how to speak to women. Besides, he'd been given the all clear. Jack was away for a few days, out of the city.

Wade knew more details than Eleanor, that had been very clear when he had overheard an especially ferocious argument that he had to force himself not to get involved in. Jack was still dealing the weird colourless liquid, but he had a new seller, a guy making better stuff. Wade had offered to come, to properly cement his place as Jack's right hand, but he'd declined. He didn't want to take Eleanor and more importantly, he wanted someone to keep an eye on her.

That was fair, Wade had seen the deterioration with the tiny blonde already. Jack was in the midst of weaning her off the very toxin he had gotten her addicted too. It wasn't pretty. Being the third wheel wasn't an issue right about now, he wanted to be kept out of as much of that shit as possible.

So Jack left, Eleanor didn't care if Wade went out or not. He promised to leave her with a weapon, just in-case and she'd just rolled her eyes. He felt a little guilty, she was over the worst of the withdrawal symptoms and looked less like death. That didn't mean she seemed fine, far from it. “I don't have to...”

She waved him off, “I'm fine. Go have fun, find someone pretty.”

“Don't answer the door.”

“Jesus Christ, Wade. Just go. Honestly, I'm good.” He held eye contact, as if daring her to disagree with her statement. “Go, you big dummy.” And he did, he went to the closest half-decent bar he could think of, drank several glasses of whisky in quick succession and picked up the best looking girl he could find. And she was beautiful, and easy. He had her against the wall of the bathroom and twice again in a motel room that charged by the hour.

Wade was home by dawn, feeling a bit more in control of himself. He was debating another bath, treating himself and sure that Eleanor wouldn't mind. She never minded, not that they spent much time together. Especially when she was using, then she'd spent nearly all of her time in whatever room her and Jack shared.

He didn't attempt to get his head around that relationship. But it seems legit, he'd expect someone like Jack, someone like him, to keep girls around just for a fuck, to toss them aside if they got clingy. Jack loved her, Wade could see that. She was young, he could see that as well. Not much younger than the two of them, but young enough. She should have been in school, she wasn't. And she never mentioned a family. Some names would come up, but after a look from Jack that would be the end of it.

It wasn't that odd. None of them had friends.

He opened the door and stopped just as swiftly. The apartment was dead silent and the doors open. Jack was that paranoid he demanded the bedroom door be locked when she was in there. Now, locked or not it was never left open. “Eleanor.” He tried carefully, closing the door. The gun was where he had left it, and over in the kitchenette all of the washing up had been done. In fact, the place looked as clean as it ever had. She'd been bored, and sober. If this was what came out of that it wasn't a bad deal.

“Elle.” He lifted his voice a little, used the nickname that only ever passed Jack's lips. He was worried now. He checked the bathroom, that was clean too and empty. His bedroom followed. She hadn't touched that thankfully but their own was empty. Dirty bedsheets were crumpled in one corner as if to be washed. He'd never actually been in here. He was expecting it to be dark, unkept, a cliché. It wasn't. The window was much bigger than his and let in much more light, she'd kept the simple plant on the window sill alive.

“Stop fucking checking...” He cursed himself, she wasn't in here. She wasn't in the apartment, so where the fuck could she be? Instantly he was convinced she must be with another dealer, getting what Jack was denying her. Shit. Jack would kill him, if she didn't kill herself first. He double checks everywhere and slips the gun down the top of his jeans.

It's several hours later, with no sign that he gives up and returns home, praying that she'd gone to some one he wasn't aware of and made it home with her winnings. He'd been to every dodgy guy he could think of, giving random fake names, only a general description and it had been no use. His heart is in his stomach, stupid really. If something happens to her he just drops and runs like he was used to. But there's a stab there. He cares if she's lying in some dirty house with a needle in her arm and some foul guy draped over her. That's even more stupid.

He's getting caught up in their lives which will never end well.

That doesn't stop the relief from bubbling when he can hear music from along the hallway. It's not overly loud, and he can't place it but the old lady from next door is just leaving her home as he passes. “Ask your sister to turn it down, it's disturbing my damn cats.” He wants to laugh, but just nods politely and grabs the handle, surprised to find it unlocked.

The music is louder in here, coming from the master bedroom. “Where the fuck have you been?” He storms in, drawing to a stop as she looks up at him. “Probably having less fun than you,” she teases looking as together as he's ever seen her. That's off-putting. He's used to seeing her in Jack's clothes, drowning her figure, or, worse, her in her underwear like she's purposefully been trying to make him slip up. Her hair is blonder, only a little but it's noticeable that she's been to a proper salon. There are shopping bags taking up half of the floor space and she's balanced on the bed, in what are clearly a pair of pyjamas, although the shorts are little better than underwear, as she leans to tape a poster over a damaged patch of paint. “I came back earlier and you weren't here.”

“Oh,” she breathes, barely glancing at him, “Sorry. I went out.” The gesture to the bags wasn't necessary. “Yeah,” why is he annoyed at her? “I get that. But you were supposed to stay in.”

“Come on, I spent half the night cleaning and I've brought a bunch of nice stuff for this place. Quit moaning.”

“You could have been anywhere.” He continues, and he watches as the implication sinks in. She doesn't speak for a bit, finishes sticking the poster, some horrible artwork, up. “I'm glad your opinion of me is so high.” He feels the heat rush in his cheeks, trying to defend himself. “It's alright, I deserve it.” She spins, the top is as low cut as the shorts are high. “Well, no, actually Jack deserves it, but it's not like we're going to say that to him.” For a change words escape him and she laughs.

“I'm good, I told you. Just tired of living in shit holes. You wanna give me a hand? I've brought you some bits for your room but I didn't want to just go in.” He catches himself and spends the most surreal day sprucing up the apartment.

By the time Jack gets back, two days late Wade knows he has a problem.
He cares way too much.