ft. jacob brooks and randy, who can be found here.

I’m lower than rock bottom; lower than that, even — the lowest I’ve ever been or would be, or so I hope, but there’s always more room to fall. I’ve come to find I’m becoming a shining example of that, in fact, and my presence at Randy’s house only proves it.

I’m stuck with my realization on the front porch at three in the morning, head ducked into my knees while Randy sleeps inside, an enviable lack of concern for how much we’ve just seen of each other. It’s more of me than most have ever seen, more than anyone should see again at this point, much less my former drug dealer.

( — The word former feels like a joke, and as much as I love to partake in morbid humor usually, it only makes me sicker as it crosses my mind. )

The door opens behind me. At first, I can’t bring myself to look, but soon Randy’s sitting beside me and it’s impossible to ignore him. He’s a loud breather; I hate loud breathers. What the hell was I thinking?

“You look pretty f***ed up,” he teases me.

It feels more personal now than it would have, say, a year ago — even a day ago. I just shake my head, looking out into the street. I still can’t see straight. The comedown always makes my teeth chatter, even though it’s not particularly cold. “I am.”

Randy starts lighting up a cigarette. It’s the first time the smell of smoke has ever bothered me. “This doesn’t mean things are gonna be weird with us now, right? It was just for fun.”

He’d told me he always had a thing for me.

I took solace in it.

Things are totally weird.

“I should go home.”

“Like that?” Randy remarks. He’s not wrong; I’m too screwed up to find home if I tried. He softens up pretty immediately. I feel guilty that he has to. “So, things are weird. Look, I’m sorry, I can take you —.”

“Nah, it’s my fault, man.” I finally stand up. “I shouldn’t have got you involved in my crap.”

“You really gonna drive like that?”

“I’m gonna call someone.” I can’t bring myself to leave it that open-ended, but I wish I could; I wish I could walk down the sidewalk and never look back again, let the moment fade with the marks on my neck, and eventually maybe not remember it. But I can’t do it. “Look, we’re friends and I cherish that, I really do. We can’t — that can’t happen again, okay?”

He laughs at me.

Now I’m really wishing I’d just walked away.

“Won’t happen again.” I can’t tell if he’s kidding around or pissed, and I can’t bring myself to ask. My throat goes completely dry when he stands up and gets closer to me; my heart stops when he touches my cheek. “Take care of yourself, Casey.”

He’s pissed.

“Text me or something when you get home so I know you got there, yeah?” He asks.

I can’t fathom why he cares but nod anyway and finally bring myself to take off, tail between my legs. This is the lowest I’ve ever been and it’s absolutely disgusting.

I make it to the corner of the street by the time Jacob finally answers. I can tell I woke him up. “What’s goin’ on, dude?”

“I really screwed up,” I blurt out. “Can you come get me?”