These Last Days

3. My Heart Is Gold And My Hands Are Cold.

The balcony shook with deep sensations. The presence of its passersbys altering the house's dynamics and creating a controlled chaos in certain corners and in certain people.

Bex sat on the floor, a quiet serene like figure made of stress and high standards, glass almost.
Godlike nonetheless.

she had her gadget in hand, thumbing away at whatever task she had planned for the next day. Packing probably. Everyone was packing for the boarding process For ITA. The hall stank of *LUX and liquor, adolescents draped everywhere. Caught in their own chemically fueled dreams and nightmares, like a dirty version of the Sistine chapel. Nothing Bex hadn't seen before.

"The nerve of that fucking troglodyte, can you fucking believe him? Honestly Shawn just say the word and I'll torch this place, like who cares? This block Is being teared down when we all head for ITA. Just say it and its done Shawn."

Bex beamed as she saw Havana and Shawn come into view, walking fast down the hall towards her.

"I'll think about it havvy. Thanks though. Nice to see nothing's changed."

"Wait for it, its all about to change."

Shawn just grinned and held his friend closer, glad that he was back with who he belongs with, that's when Bex came Into view, her soft bouncy fro dotted with little flowers and her signature gold tattoos spread across her wrists. New ones added. Her face was lit up like the sun, her smiles always in between that of the wicked and that of the amity.

Shawn ran up to her and instantaneously she was in the air, up in his big arms laughing and mentally rejoicing at the return of one of her best friends.

Shawn put her down, she was still so short, he thought. She was dressed in a simple jean jacket with peppered skinny jeans and faded converse, the flowers in her big hair were real and smelled of lilac and lavender, altered probably, they do that now. Her golden tattoos shined bright in the low hall light, a nemeton tree up her left wrist just below her elbow and its roots down in her palm, detailed extensively, and the other one on her right arm , tracing her delicate veins was a simple pattern of stars.
She looked better than ever, happier than last year.

"So you're staying this time right?" Bex asked with hope in her eyes. Gleams and forming tears.

Shawn grinned again and answered the short girl.

"I'll be here for a long while now Bex."

"Ugh, I'm gonna cry. Please don't leave again randomly, I can't handle life here without all us five."

"Five? There's four of us."

Shawn stood confused in the hall, the humidity getting to him. Who's number five? He pondered.
They were all so caught up in conversation and regroupment that they didn't hear the slight banging coming from the door behind Bex until Havana's head popped up again, a look of concern and all too much seriousness in her small face.

"Fuck.. Nicks still in there right?"

Her eyes widening by the second as she looked at both Bex and Shawn.

"I've been guarding the door the whole time? He hasn't moved."

Bex answered timidly.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

Who's Nick? what's going on? Havana derailed Shawn's train of thought as she shoved passed him and kicked open the bedroom doors.

The room violently opened up to an unmade bed, a still lit cigarette hanging off the vanity, and a clutter of packets and bottles tossed aside on the now wine stained floor. And a small curled up lump on the floor in a pool of his own vomit, crying slowly, clutching his stomach.

The boy was pale. His legs a bit too skinny and arms a bit too long. But his shoulders were broad as was his chest. His hair a wavy brown, wet and tangled upon his head.

Havana's gasp was so loud, Shawn's skin jumped, never seeing a reaction from her like that ever.

She scurried to Nick and sat him up, slapping his cheeks hard to get a response from him.

The ill boy incoherently mumbled and tears kept sliding down his cheeks, his eyes redder the nights sunset, his eye bags practically designer with their darkening.

"Fucks sake, Bex get the water in the tub running, cold water and try to find some spare towels. Shawn, I'm so sorry babe but can you help me get him up?"

Havana asked but more of ordered.

Bex ran off to her new duties and
Shawn was just in slight shock, standing like a ghost against the door, the scene a bit to surreal for him. But auto pilot took over and in seconds, he was off and had one nicks arms linked on his shoulder. Him and Havana slowly carried Nick to the bathroom. He, a drooling mess as his shoes dragged against the carpet.

Nicks head swirled, as if his skull was a glass bowl and a hurricane was unleashed inside of it.
Violent Words, violent people, blurry blurred faces, fast drugs and hard drugs and more drugs and suddenly-

strong arms had him up, gasping for air as he was picked up, his head held up high as he strained to hold on to whoever was guiding him to wherever.
Such strong arms, a clear thought amongst an ocean of impurities.
He really liked them, soft but strong, if that made sense.

but darkness again lingered in his view and without much strength in him, he opened up and welcomed it like an old friend, like the people he'd meet in alleyways after midnight.

Dark became light and light became dark and his eyes felt like suns about to explode.
He chose darkness, the pain in his body too much for right now.
So he fell again,

heavy into those arms.

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*LUX = A fancy expensive new breed of weed basically.