I tried to clean up and help him. I suck at cleaning up, but I didn't wanna just stay there and do nothing. I slept pretty good on his couch, and he's always around helping other people, so I should probably return the favour, right? It's like 12 and I have no clue where to start cleaning this fucking hell-hole. I shove all of the clothes in a basket that I hope is the laundry basket. I put the blanket I used last night over the head of the couch and try to collect the trash all in one bag. I figure I should probably run the 10 million garbage bags downstairs so I start running back and forth from the garbage bins back to Aspect's apartment, already winded by the second run.
When I come back upstairs to grab the final bags, light filters down the hall and I see a figure outside on the fire-escape and realize Aspect is finally up. Thirty seconds later I notice the weed sitting on the countertop.
I know that I shouldn't, but there's a violent tug in my stomach urging me to take the fucking bag. I chew my lip, considering it. I really, really, really want some fucking weed. I see Aspect get up out of his chair and out of habit of rushing to do something immoral, I scurry to the countertop, snatching the bad and shoving it in the pocket of my hoodie.
Aspect crawls back inside through the window.
"Hey," he says, standing up straight. He looks a hell of a lot better than last night.
"Hi," I reply, hurriedly turning to go do something other than stand awkwardly by the kitchen countertop. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him frowning, though he doesn't assume anything just yet.
"Sleep okay?"
"Yeah, you?"
"Yeah. Really fucking well, actually," he says, laughing a bit, almost relieved.
"You look a lot fucking better," I say, going to grab the last garbage bag. If I could just toss this away, then I could make a fucking beeline back home and get back home scott free.
"I feel a lot better," he said, taking his shoes off, glancing to the countertop, then to the table. He looks around for a minute. "Hey did you put the bag away?"
I play dumb.
"What bag?"
"The Ziploc baggie with weed in it. Did you clean it up?"
"No,"
Aspect frowns at me, his demeanor suddenly changing.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I don't know where your fucking hemp is. Can I throw your fucking trash out now?"
"Alan, where did you put it,"
"I didn't touch it!" I exclaim, dropping the bags and moving a few steps closer.
"Well I can't find it!"
"Are you sure you're feeling ok? Y'know maybe you should go back to bed. I don't think your withdrawal's worn off yet," I sneer, and it snaps a string in Aspect's head. Out of nowhere he grabs my arm and pulls me closer.
"Empty your fucking pockets," he says, face inches away from mine.
"Fuck you!" I shout back, shoving him off.
He lunges at me grabs at me. I grab back at him. Again I realize that this isn't the right thing to do, but old habits die hard, I guess. I blindly started hitting wherever I can, trying to get out of his hold. "I'll kill you, you bastard!" Aspect says and suddenly something claps me in the side of the head and my ear throbs and rings incessantly. He turns me around and shoves me on the ground. I get back up as quick as I can, going to return the favor. I grab him by the waist and he tries throwing me back off.
"Get off," he says, and I don't have time to process that the irritability in his voice is gone. I sock him in the stomach a good couple times, furiously trying to get him in any way I can. "Alan," his voice sounds weak. Good. "Alan stop!" he cries, scared. I don't hear him. I shove him with every ounce of force I can muster. We fall to the ground together, and I only snap out of it when I hear a the sickening crack of something hitting the floor.
I stare down at the kitchen tiles, and it takes me a while to realize what I just did. Fear fills my lungs, drowning me.
The train passes by outside.
The dog barks.
I panic.
