Junkhead

Confusion

"Well...I don't know if you guys know this but...when I was eight--"

The door flung open, interrupting Layne.  All three of them looked over at the doorway.  mike's brows raised when he noticed the dark haired nurse peeking her head through the crack of the door.

"Erica...?" Mike blurted aloud.  His head cocked to the side with curiosity.

"Layne?" Erica asked, looking past Mike. Layne just blinked, as still as a statue.  "One of your friends is here...he's wondering if it's okay if he visits with you."

Layne's brow curled in confusion.  "Who is it...?"

Erica opened the door all the way, moving closer to the edge of the doorframe.  There stood a tall, gangly man, his blonde hair reaching all the way down to his mid-back.  He looked tired.  His eyes were blood-shot & his clothes were a raggedy mess.

"Hey Layne..." his deep voice muttered.  He bit his lip nervously.

"Jerry?" Layne shrieked.  His body jolted up in his bed.  He winced when he felt the tug of his NG tube in his nose, turning and grabbing the pole & scooting it closer to himself.  "What...what are you doing here?  I thought you hated me."

Jerry clumped into the hospital room, turning & nodding at Erica.  "We'll be fine," he muttered to her.  It was quiet until the gorgeous young woman slowly shut the door behind him.  He gulped down his nerves, fidgeting with his leather jacket pockets.

"Dude, you smell like fucking Bob Marely," Layne retorted, anger steaming again.  He peered around at all of his old band mates.  He couldn't help but to shake his head in snide amazement.  "All of you are fucking stoned.  On a drug detox floor in a hospital.  What the fuck, man?!"

Sean stood up again & yanked out his flask.  Violently, he jabbed it right in front of Layne's face.  "If it bothers you so fucking much, HERE, have some fucking jaiger!"

Layne smirked & shrugged, taking the flask and slurping down a large swig.  He coughed weakly afterwards.  Mike slid over next to Layne, freaked out.  "Why the fuck did you do that?!  You're on methadone & getting an NG treatment.  Pretty sure they'll check your blood soon & realize you just drank hard liquor!"

Layne laughed & threw his hands up in the air.  "You guys are all stoned on your drug of choice anyways," he nagged.  "I assumed we were partying down."

Jerry scratched his head & sighing.  His light eyes softened as they studied the mess that laid before him on the hospital bed.  "It's just reefer, Layne." His face fell when he noticed the pitiful expression on his best friend's face.  "If it means anything to you, I'm sorry," Jerry continued.

"Sorry for what?  The reefer, or acting like an arrogant faggot at the studio 4 years ago?" Layne spat.  A pink tongue swiped at his lips.  Agitation encumbered him, causing him to peer back down at his arm & pick at one of his bulbous track marks.

Jerry shrugged as he glanced over at Mike & Sean.  He looked back at Layne, sighing again.  A lanky arm yanked one of the stools from behind him at the sink area across the room & dragged it right next to Layne's bed.  He plopped down on it, trying his best to stay calm despite the tragedy of how broken his best friend had become. 

"It wasn't my intention to come off as a douche to you back then, Layne," Jerry started.  "I was just..."

"Tired of dealing with a piece of white trash junky, right?" Layne growled, narrowing his eyes at Jerry.  Deep in his heart, he still loved the man...shit, they've been through everything together.  He just couldn't stand it that Jerry knew everything.  Layne motioned back over to Sean.  "Gimme more of that jaiger, huh, bud?"