Yoko
Addiction.
"I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some random disaster, or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of death from being a total surprise."
***
She enveloped him.
Tre spent every moment he possibly could with Jorah, and it was worth it. Inside of him, there was a slow-growing need to hear her laughter, and see that little, lip-curling smile that meant she'd gotten what she wanted.
He withdrew from Billie, from Mike, from Jason, even from Adrienne, who was most likely to sympathize with his obsession.
It wasn't to say that he didn't speak to them anymore, because he did. But there was a separation between them now, a line where his attachement to them ended and his need for Jorah began.
And that need was becoming more important to him than his love for his friends.
***
"Hullo?"
"Tre?" Jason asked, in happy surprise as he heard his friend's groggy mumble trickle over the phone.
Tre sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Jorah shifted slightly in her sleep, and pulled the covers closer.
With a small sigh, Tre slipped into the bathroom and shut the door. He could hear the sounds of the street coming over Jason's end of the phone, and knew his friend was heading down to the Guitar Center to do some spending.
"Why do you sound so surprised? This is my cell phone after all." Tre grumbled. Jason chuckled.
Tre hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd heard Jason's laugh.
"From what Mike and Billie tell me, you don't answer it anymore."
"Well, I don't." Tre admitted slowly. "I'm just always busy with something."
"With that new girl?" Jason inquired.
Tre paused.
"Yeah...with Jorah..." he said carefully.
"Tre, I haven't seen you since I left for New York," Jason accused. "Come down to the Guitar Center with me, and we'll jam. Just like old times."
The offer was tempting. Tre sorely missed Jason, his partner in crime. And he had a point, Tre hadn't seen him in weeks, almost months.
"Jason, I just need to check with Jorah, alright?"
Jason let out an excited yelp.
"Alright, man. I'll hold on."
***
"Jorah?" Tre whispered, sliding smoothly between the sheets to place a gentle kiss on her cheek.
"Mhmm?" She murmured sleepily.
"Jason's just called me. We're going down to the Guitar Center to do some shopping, then we'll probably grab a bite to eat. That alright with you?"
She sat bolt upright, looking at him with wide eyes.
"I thought we were going to spend the day together!" she asked accusingly.
Tre was torn.
On the one hand, there was Jason. Good, uncomplicated old Jason, who was waiting patiently on the phone, already downtown. He hadn't seen Jason, missed him like crazy.
And on the other hand, there was Jorah. Gorgeous, sexy Jorah. And chances were, if Tre spent the day with her, he'd be having sex more than usual, in various places and positions.
If he went with Jason, she'd be angry. Tre wouldn't be having any sort of sex, at least, not with her.
He bit his lip.
"Baby, I could take you out tonight...to dinner, and one of those art movies you like so much." He tried.
Jorah smiled, and swung a leg over his chest, straddling his hips. Her hands moved slowly downward, until the slipped beneath the waistband of his pajama pants.
Tre gasped as her cool, slender fingers touched him, then gasped again as waves of pleasure washed over him.
And then she began to kiss him, kiss his lips, his neck, his chest, his belly button...
And places further south.
His cell phone lay forgotten on the bathroom counter, and Jason stood forgotten on the city sidewalk, waiting patiently for a reply that would never come.
***
"Tre? Tre?!" Jason shut his phone in disgust.
"Motherfucker." He whispered quietly, more hurt than angry.
He stood there for a few minutes, looking up at the sky. Pondering his own useless existance.
Then he sighed, shoved his hands into his pockets and hurried down the street and into the Guitar Center, even though he'd lost all desire to play alone again.
***
"Yes, Mr. White. These are the usual amphs, and you've got the guitar you want..." The salesboy hovered uncertainly.
Jason smiled at him. The kid was young, probably only fifteen or so. Shaggy black hair with streaks of blonde, nose ring, a million different earrings in his ears. He had calluses on his fingers, bruises on the soft skin between his thumb and index finger. This kid was a musician.
"That's all I need right now, Danny. But I'll call you if I need you, alright?"
Danny nodded, smiled and picked his was out of the jungle of amphs back to the saftey of the front desk.
Jason chuckled to himself, then contemplated the guitar in his hands.
"What to play...what to play," he murmured quietly.
He plucked out the base line to 'Smoke On The Water', then strummed a few nonsense chords.
Then a quiet laugh reached his ears.
He looked up, and saw a pair of gorgeous gray eyes sparkling at him. A slender girl, Asian, by the look of her, was perched on the amph in front of him, watching with a smile.
Her short black hair was styled into a messy fauxhawk, and her jeans were ripped in a thousand places, held up by a studded belt. Her shirt was black, sprinkled with silver sparkles. She had beautiful, pale skin and full lips that curled into an easy smile.
He liked her.
***
She enveloped him.
Tre spent every moment he possibly could with Jorah, and it was worth it. Inside of him, there was a slow-growing need to hear her laughter, and see that little, lip-curling smile that meant she'd gotten what she wanted.
He withdrew from Billie, from Mike, from Jason, even from Adrienne, who was most likely to sympathize with his obsession.
It wasn't to say that he didn't speak to them anymore, because he did. But there was a separation between them now, a line where his attachement to them ended and his need for Jorah began.
And that need was becoming more important to him than his love for his friends.
***
"Hullo?"
"Tre?" Jason asked, in happy surprise as he heard his friend's groggy mumble trickle over the phone.
Tre sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Jorah shifted slightly in her sleep, and pulled the covers closer.
With a small sigh, Tre slipped into the bathroom and shut the door. He could hear the sounds of the street coming over Jason's end of the phone, and knew his friend was heading down to the Guitar Center to do some spending.
"Why do you sound so surprised? This is my cell phone after all." Tre grumbled. Jason chuckled.
Tre hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd heard Jason's laugh.
"From what Mike and Billie tell me, you don't answer it anymore."
"Well, I don't." Tre admitted slowly. "I'm just always busy with something."
"With that new girl?" Jason inquired.
Tre paused.
"Yeah...with Jorah..." he said carefully.
"Tre, I haven't seen you since I left for New York," Jason accused. "Come down to the Guitar Center with me, and we'll jam. Just like old times."
The offer was tempting. Tre sorely missed Jason, his partner in crime. And he had a point, Tre hadn't seen him in weeks, almost months.
"Jason, I just need to check with Jorah, alright?"
Jason let out an excited yelp.
"Alright, man. I'll hold on."
***
"Jorah?" Tre whispered, sliding smoothly between the sheets to place a gentle kiss on her cheek.
"Mhmm?" She murmured sleepily.
"Jason's just called me. We're going down to the Guitar Center to do some shopping, then we'll probably grab a bite to eat. That alright with you?"
She sat bolt upright, looking at him with wide eyes.
"I thought we were going to spend the day together!" she asked accusingly.
Tre was torn.
On the one hand, there was Jason. Good, uncomplicated old Jason, who was waiting patiently on the phone, already downtown. He hadn't seen Jason, missed him like crazy.
And on the other hand, there was Jorah. Gorgeous, sexy Jorah. And chances were, if Tre spent the day with her, he'd be having sex more than usual, in various places and positions.
If he went with Jason, she'd be angry. Tre wouldn't be having any sort of sex, at least, not with her.
He bit his lip.
"Baby, I could take you out tonight...to dinner, and one of those art movies you like so much." He tried.
Jorah smiled, and swung a leg over his chest, straddling his hips. Her hands moved slowly downward, until the slipped beneath the waistband of his pajama pants.
Tre gasped as her cool, slender fingers touched him, then gasped again as waves of pleasure washed over him.
And then she began to kiss him, kiss his lips, his neck, his chest, his belly button...
And places further south.
His cell phone lay forgotten on the bathroom counter, and Jason stood forgotten on the city sidewalk, waiting patiently for a reply that would never come.
***
"Tre? Tre?!" Jason shut his phone in disgust.
"Motherfucker." He whispered quietly, more hurt than angry.
He stood there for a few minutes, looking up at the sky. Pondering his own useless existance.
Then he sighed, shoved his hands into his pockets and hurried down the street and into the Guitar Center, even though he'd lost all desire to play alone again.
***
"Yes, Mr. White. These are the usual amphs, and you've got the guitar you want..." The salesboy hovered uncertainly.
Jason smiled at him. The kid was young, probably only fifteen or so. Shaggy black hair with streaks of blonde, nose ring, a million different earrings in his ears. He had calluses on his fingers, bruises on the soft skin between his thumb and index finger. This kid was a musician.
"That's all I need right now, Danny. But I'll call you if I need you, alright?"
Danny nodded, smiled and picked his was out of the jungle of amphs back to the saftey of the front desk.
Jason chuckled to himself, then contemplated the guitar in his hands.
"What to play...what to play," he murmured quietly.
He plucked out the base line to 'Smoke On The Water', then strummed a few nonsense chords.
Then a quiet laugh reached his ears.
He looked up, and saw a pair of gorgeous gray eyes sparkling at him. A slender girl, Asian, by the look of her, was perched on the amph in front of him, watching with a smile.
Her short black hair was styled into a messy fauxhawk, and her jeans were ripped in a thousand places, held up by a studded belt. Her shirt was black, sprinkled with silver sparkles. She had beautiful, pale skin and full lips that curled into an easy smile.
He liked her.