With a grunt of exhaustion, Johnny shoved his things into his bag, zipped it shut and threw it unceremoniously onto the pavement. His nerves were fried and all he wanted was a mattress and a good night's sleep. Withdrawal was sucking the life force out of him and all he could bring himself to do was pack his bag, leave the apartment, and head back to Julianna's.
Once his car had come to a halt outside her mobile home, all he could do was remain there, sitting, not moving. Unsure how to go on. She hadn't spoken to him and she hadn't come looking for him. Yet there he sat. The only place he could feel remotely safe was home with her, and he thought maybe he could make it there tonight, without a word.
Stepping out of the car, he dragged himself up the stoop and up to her door, unlocking it and slipping inside. At once she was at his side, wrapping thin arms around his waist and clinging to him, burying her face against his shirt. They were both silent.
"I'm sorry," Johnny whispered finally, his voice dry. The empty pit inside him was growing deeper, feeling as if it would swallow him completely if he wasn't careful.
Julianna held him tightly. "Where have you been?" she whispered.
"I went out to visit Van."
Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Pulling back a little, Julianna gazed up at him with an odd expression of suspicion. "Van."
He nodded.
"Not Rigel?"
"No, I couldn't—" Johnny blinked, his arms going a bit weak. He cleared his throat. "Rigel doesn't even have his own place."
Pulling away slightly, the small blonde frowned, her arms dropping to her sides. "Johnny," she began.
"How have you been?" he interrupted her, shuffling further inside.
She didn't look amused. "Worried," she responded, lowering her eyes to the floor. Her fists clenched, relaxing, clenching again. "Y'just. Disappeared like that, no explanation, for days. Then I hear you show up to play, drunker'n hell. And now I guess you see what Rigel had to tell me. Me'n him thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere." She sucked in a breath, shaking a little, her fists slowly curling tighter and her mouth a tight line.
"What would it matter to you?" he blurted out, before he could control himself.
"How the fuck could you say that?" she answered a little too quickly. Their eyes met, and he didn't want to be honest, suddenly feeling sick.
Turning away, and to the floor, Johnny swallowed heavily. A long sigh shuddered from his lungs. "I'm sorry, I—I should have called. But I've just had...a lot of pressure."
"Right, okay."
"Don't start," he cut in firmly, to which she snapped her mouth shut.
"Johnny, did something else happen?"
He stared at her, the question whirring around his skull. Of course something had happened. All he could smell was stale liquor, and his tongue was dry. The empty pit in his stomach was expanding, making his hands tremble and his eyes lose their focus. "We can talk about it in the morning, I don't know. Just—"
"The morning? You really think that's the answer to everythin'?"
"It'll give me time to think, and you to calm the fuck down."
"No. I've had enough of your stalling and pussyfooting around."
"Don't go starting shit," he started, his heart skipping a beat. "Just let me get a goddamn night's sleep."
"Get it somewhere else."
A cold sensation hit him between the eyes, sending a shiver of adrenaline up his spine and straight to his nerves. It made the roots of his teeth hurt and his shoulders stiffen. A heavy silence followed her sharp response. She had drawn herself tall, standing stiffly, and when Johnny said nothing, she crossed her arms.
A shaky laugh slipped from his lips. "Come on. Please."
"Get." The glare she shot him was withering. "Can't you take a hint? Sleep in your car, find a motel, I don't care. I want you out."
Panic welled in his chest as his thoughts grew a little fuzzy. The tips of his ears were burning. "You know I don't have anywhere else. Please, Julianna."
"You fucked up," she insisted, raising her voice. "You made this bed, you sleep in it."
"Don't do this," he begged. "We don't have to—"
"I can't do this," Julianna finally snapped. "It's driving me up a wall. You're so torn up, drinkin' like no tomorrow, spendin' half your time blitzed out your mind on whatever you can find. Never tell me nothin', pretending like it's good enough if you just cook and clean and give head whenever I ask."
"Julie," he cut in, tensing.
"Look at yourself! Every time we fight you fall to your knees, but that ain't gonna work this time. I've had enough, and it's clear you don't respect me in the slightest."
"Julie!"
"What?!"
"Please." He exhaled shakily, unable to look at her. "I'm scared."
The silence stretched on, until finally she let out a weary sigh and turned away. He was tempted to say something more, beg a little more, but found himself too numb and afraid to continue the argument. Exhaustion was bearing down on him, and after standing motionless in the middle of the living room for a solid minute, he finally wandered to the front door. He stared at it, numb and unsure. His hand touched the knob and hesitated.
"Get, before I change my mind. If you ain't gone in a minute I'll break your nose," Julianna threatened, though there wasn't much venom behind the words. He glanced over his shoulder, finding her already heading towards the kitchen.
Johnny stood there until his legs started to shake. He opened his mouth and a flood of apologies nearly spilled over, but he clenched his jaw and stepped out into the night, shutting the door softly behind him.
Taking a shuddering breath, Johnny headed to his car, forcing one foot in front of the other. Despite his best efforts to shove down the grief, it continued swelling inside of him and crushing his lungs. Cold sweat dripped down his back, his clothes sticking to him as he stumbled over to the car, feeling an icy spike dig between his eyes, causing a wave of dizziness and nausea. It hurt, and he wanted more than anything to run back and hide under the blankets, crying for the woman to love him again. He paused, keys in hand, and gave a hard sniff before opening his door and collapsing onto the cold, worn out car seat.
Focus. Breathe.
The thought washed over him, and he obeyed as best he could. In and out. Blinking hard and licking at the dry cracks in his lips, Johnny managed to slide the keys into the ignition and start the car. With a turn of the wheel, he began to drive, slumping over the steering wheel a bit. Trying to ignore the twitching behind his eyelids, or the pain spreading up and around his forehead, he struggled to focus on the road and his destination. Driving only for a few minutes and pulling out onto a familiar side street, he slowed to a stop and sank back into his seat.
Shooting a weary glance up at the dilapidated building he sat outside, he stared hard for a moment. Through the dim glow of the headlights and the faint moonlight bleeding through the clouds, he could make out the broken windows and peeling, crumbling walls.
He sat for a solid five minutes, slowly drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, before finally unlocking the doors and getting out of the car. Nausea clenched at his stomach, but the need to numb his senses overpowered the urge to vomit. His feet shuffled a bit as he crossed the road and slipped through the hole in the fence bordering the lot, past old beer bottles, empty shell casings, crushed food wrappers.
He didn't give a second glance to the people scattered on the steps. Through the main doorway, he dodged people and pieces of the ceiling lying loose on the floor, before wandering to a specific room and tucking himself into the corner, just finding silence and solitude for a while. An almost freakishly tall and lanky young man had noticed him and eventually shuffled closer, a tall mohawk and filthy spiked jacket making him take up more space than he should, and crouched down to stare at him.
"You're back." It was an observation, but Johnny still forced himself to lift his head, nodding solemnly.
"I need something," he murmured, his voice scratchy and faint.
A snort. "What else ya show here for." The response was just as quiet, soft. "Come on. We can talk upstairs."
Johnny rose and followed, the little bit of light provided by the moon illuminating the stairwell well enough for him to drag his feet up the steps and into the space above. It was smaller, the moonlight still casting pale, silvery shadows along the wall. Half-empty cases of beer and paper bags of various junk food lined the wall, a couple pizza boxes and dirty, empty cups tossed near the entryway. An old mattress and unmarked brown paper grocery bags filled the corner, the rumpled blanket long abandoned on the floor.
"Whaddaya want? I'm out of fuckin' Valium, had a bad come by a couple days ago."
"Anything. Anything that can knock me out, fuck." He ran his hands up and through his hair, staring at a random patch of ground. His breathing shook.
"Johnny, you're shaking."
"Don't," Johnny hissed. "Jesus, spare me."
The young man slipped back into silence, seating himself down across from his friend. If nothing else he was being respectful, only letting him relax in the quiet for a few minutes before handing over what he had requested. Shaking and sweating, trying to regulate his breathing, Johnny set about with business, grateful for the silent lack of judgment. When his old friend began to speak, it was with a cautious, controlled voice. Johnny never made eye contact with him, fixating his wavering gaze on a random chunk of exposed drywall.
"Thought you were gettin' outta this shit."
He clenched his jaw, his hand spasming a little. Anxiety gripped his stomach and pulled, his body shaking harder. He sniffed loudly.
"Slow down, slow down. Easy, now."
His head dropped a little further between his knees. "Fuck...why."
"Shhh. Relax. Where's Julie?"
The only response was an agitated scoff. Johnny put a good amount of focus into controlling his breathing.
"Ah."
Straightening a bit, Johnny wiped the tears spilling down his cheeks and sniffed again. His chest shuddered a bit and he licked his lips. "Van let me crash on his couch."
"Big of him." A beat. "Well, actually—"
"My life is falling apart," Johnny cut in with a rush of anger, clenching a fist to try and keep the shaking down.
"This is just another bump, right? Like everythin' else? You'll be fine, don't worry 'bout it."
Shifting uncomfortably, and quite aware he wouldn't be of any use to anyone until he had calmed himself down, Johnny wrapped his arms around his knees and tipped his head back. Trying to control his breathing. Willing himself to stop shaking and ease up the tension.
"Wanna tell me what happened?"
"No."
Rigel took the answer silently, and dug through his pockets for a moment before finally producing something.
He didn't have to question what was being offered. He snatched it right up, doing as he was told, relaxing under the weight of the drugs slinking through his veins.
"I'll stay with ya, make sure y'don't choke. You look pretty shaken. How long'd y'go without?"
"Too long," Johnny mumbled thickly, letting himself slump over onto his side, limbs heavy.
He drifted into a hazy, half-awake state. Warm but distressed, the sensation of unease made his heart stutter and his whole body tense and twitch occasionally. Eyes rolling closed, he was aware of a warmth pressing against his shoulder and holding on tight. No voices reached him. Just darkness, heavy and quiet, the occasional throb of fear making him jolt back to semi-lucidity. At some point, the warmth was gone, and he slipped deeper, until he finally let go of all rational thought, dozing off completely.