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 Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 8:56 pm
"Doctor-patient confidentiality," Jon excused himself lazily, pressing a finger to his lips and hushing the air. He wasn't about to let that cat out of the bag. He tugged a curl around a finger, more pulling at the coarse loop than toying with it.
"Well," he said finally. "At least your uniform comes with a vest and a tie. You're halfway there, at least."
He was busy twisting the curl beneath his nose when Reed's question caught him with an articulate 'err.' His pale brows came together, teeth grinding. Christ, had he ever made minimum wage? Earning a buck from his grandmother for wearing the shoes she'd given him for Christmas to his grandfather's funeral probably didn't count.
"Let me put it this way, Reed," he began slowly, guilty in his embarrassment. "I don't even know what minimum wage is let alone, you know, ever making it."
A laugh hiccuped through his chest.
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 9:47 pm
"Well, there you go," Reed waved out at him. "You've never worked two shifts for s**t pay and never have been kicked out of your own apartment because you couldn't make the rent. You've never had to sleep one someone else's floor for weeks because you were homeless and jobless. You've never had to share with three brothers in one and a half bedrooms, either, I'd bet."
He suspected he was talking to himself at that point, he suspected Jon might be the kind where the alcohol caught up to the rest of them slowly and now it was time to pay the piper.
"What still baffles me is why you'd rather come here to my rat's nest then go to a clean, well air conditioned apartment with a shower that doesn't leak and a toilet that won't stop wasting water," Reed went on, staring at the television as though entranced by the silent scenes flashing by.
He undid the ponytail in his hair, the back of it finally having spent too much time pressing the back of his neck. Reed worked out some tangles with his hair and gave it a sniff.
"Speaking of a shitty bathroom, I need a shower," Reed got up and started pulling off his shirt. "I'm not going to bed smelling like someone else's party. I put up with it day in and day out, but if I can get a few minutes of not smelling like a bar it's worth the effort."
Reed stopped, he realized he had a guest and only so much hot water.
"Did you need to shower?"
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 10:53 pm
Reed would have suspected wrong because Jon was listening, attentively at that. His ears fell a little more with each point he ticked off his metaphorical fingers. Of course, he couldn't exactly wrap himself around the idea of living in one and a half bedrooms, and not because he'd had an entire apartment building to himself his entire life. It was more because he had no idea what a half bedroom was supposed to look like. I guess it's like... half a room. Maybe a closet. Huh. Willy Wonka had a half room....
"Free will," he said under his breath without the intention of being heard. The life Reed lived sounded like something out of a book, the television, something written by someone with more craft than his employer, less tact, more grit. This was the part of town him and his friends used to dare each other to enter, the bullshit games they used to play about spending a day in the hard part of the city, how it would give you cred. Yeah, because a day somehow equated a life to those hotshot rich kids back then, including him. This is what happened behind those walls when he was safely boarded on the A-train bound for the cobbled streets and fashion plazas of home well before dark. He muttered an oath that sounded more like a growl and watched Reed out of the corner of his eye as he stood.
Well, ********," he said, smirking as if that would abolish the feeling that he'd been really ******** lucky his entire life. "Rich kid, remember? I can barely wipe my own a** let alone bathe myself. That's asking too much."
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Posted: Wed May 27, 2009 7:30 pm
"Okay, but if you change your mind you're going to be bathing in cold water," he replied, wandering back to the shower. "Explore if you want, just don't go outside alone. And put the slide lock on the door if you go to sleep."
In seconds he was in the shower, inspecting the shaven side of his head with his hands and noting that it probably needed another close shave soon. He hummed to himself and inspected himself in a hanging shower mirror. Often he'd do his shaving and showering at the same time because the mirror over the sink was so clouded over and the mirroring had flaked off even before he moved into the apartment.
He left the bathroom door open, in case a certain someone had to run in and throw up. Reed was surprised the man wasn't spitting up his own shirt and trousers with all the Paint Remover he'd drank just hours before. Reed contemplated the meaning of the Universe for a moment, watching water slap against the two-in-one in the palm of his hand. The self-proclaimed "manly scent of raw power" the bottle was labeled smelled little of something he swore his grandmother used to bake with. In truth, the bottles were on clearance and didn't smell too feminine. Though, a coworker said he should smell of cinnamon or cherries with how red his hair was.
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Posted: Mon Jun 01, 2009 12:15 pm
As soon as Jon heard the water running, he pulled himself up onto his feet and only after the room had stopped spinning (he held his hands out to hold it still), he walked straight through Reed's words into the outside world. Because ******** all, nothing was going to keep him from his cigarette <********>. The craving had gotten so bad sitting on that couch, smelling incense, cheap dinner, and - he didn't want to admit it, even drunk - talking about leather and wild Christmas parties, that he'd almost started chewing on the lapels of his own jacket.
And he hadn't done that in a while.
He hit the concrete steps hard when he dropped down onto them and fished out his cigarettes and lighter.
"Sweet, merciful bliss," he breathed around a lungful of smoke. Both heels of his palms ground into his eyes as he leaned his elbows against his knees, groaning. The best thing to do when confronted was to get the hell out of dodge, even though he'd be crashing in dodge tonight. He'd come because he didn't want to go home; that's what he told himself now. Jon fiddled with the end of the cigarette and focused on the bass he heard thrumming underneath his shoes like stunted purring. Smoke snaked out through the corners of his mouth. He'd have to take Reed up on that cold shower.
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Posted: Mon Jun 01, 2009 8:43 pm
Reed, completely unaware on account of being in the shower, couldn't hear Jon wander out. It was just as well, he would have probably run out naked and sopping wet to stop him. That would've just made an even bigger scene than what was probably necessary. Instead he took a while getting the whole length of his hair cleaned and the other side of his scalp clean shaven.
Maybe one day he'd let the other half grow out, but the in between stages were going to look awkward for a time. He liked having it half shaven and at a sideways pony tail. A friend had suggested he get a scalp tattoo, but the idea of a needle knocking you on the skull over and over like a woodpecker on speed didn't seem all that appealing. And scabs on your scalp sounded dreadful, as tattoos looked awful before they healed over. He didn't suspect the boss would be too appreciative of that.
Unaware to Reed, the cellphone in his pocket was ringing. Well, not so much ringing as playing a snippet of the song "Money for Nothing". The little color display glowed a blue-white in the dimly lit living room and through the fabric of his work trousers. Reed heard that, but wasn't about to wander out with soap in his eyes. He sighed and let it ring.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 4:13 pm
Jon was halfway through his cigarette when he started wondering if it had gone bad. Taking another pull before he drew it from his mouth, he realized holding the flame had become more rank-- than usual. It was making a bitter acidity sting the back of his mouth, gather in the base of his throat; his vision wavered. <********." Snorting smoke through his nostrils, he flung the used cigarette down the cement steps and climbed to his feet. He used to be so good at holding obscene amounts of alcohol. Stumbling around and needing to take a major piss aside, all that would happen after a few [dozen] drinks would be that he'd collapse in a neat little heap on the softest surface he could find and just sleep it all off. When was the last time he had downed so much though? He looked at his watch and laughed. Like a watch was going to tell him.
He stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep himself from gagging on the waves of nausea that crashed over him. It took him a while to find the apartment again because in his haste he failed to realize his was the one with the open door. He guided himself across the room, distracting himself with the staccato'd beep of a missed call coming from--
He exploded into the bathroom and before tripping over his own feet to heave oh-so-musically into the toilet bowl, managed to hack out over the hiss of the shower:
"Your pants have a missed call."
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 4:32 pm
"Huh!?"
Reed pulled the atrociously gaudy (who would tell him not to have it?) shower curtain of a rhinestone Elvis complete with glued on rhinestones open, the metal rings scraping with total disregard against the top of the curtain rack. He blinked up, then looked down to see Jon over his toilet. Not surprising and yet... that somehow seemed to stick out more than the horrendous shower curtain.
Speaking of sticking out... "Woops!" he grabbed a face towel and covered his personals. The hand towel would've been an insult and so... he overcompensated with the ducky towel.
"Oh, my phone? Yes, I heard it. If it's the Queen, she'll just have to wait," laughs. "If you're going to puke your organs out into that toilet, I'd better fill up a bucket of water. It's not a strong enough toilet to actually flush anything other than liquid, surprise-surprise."
His hair stuck to his shoulders like the devil's tongue, he eyed the hairballs he was creating quite vividly in the shower drain. He half admired the strange little patterns it was making and half felt the need to try and pull them off the drain with his toes. It was a strange impulse, as though it would make the place more presentable.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 5:40 pm
He didn't have time to focus on anything other than the way his stomach was manually trying to flip itself inside out, not on disgust, or decency, or Reed. Jon was all but face-planted into the bowl, gripping the edge and retching - how so much somehow ended up in his stomach, he couldn't say. Jon could barely lift his own head, like it was weighed down by the sheer force of heaving. As the first wave of nausea finally broke, he peeled his fingers from the bowl and lifted his head. Sort of. He bent over again, tail bristled to its fullest behind him.
The poor, gray furred cat managed to gurgle out a 'This wasn't' and a '..really' and something that sounded like a truly genuine apology between breaths when he managed to catch them. That little decent part of Jon not too smashed to realize what it was there for was mortified that it had gotten to this point. When he could pant without vomiting, he leaned back on his heels.
He was pale, much paler than usual, and his fine-boned hands shook when he pulled them from the toilet to wipe down on his slacks. Reed's voice returned like a distant echo becoming louderlouderlouder, and he looked up for a moment.
"You have really red hair," he pointed out, voice small. Then the second wave struck and he was back over the bowl again.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 6:34 pm
Reed pulled an old, tattered beach towel and wrapped his middle with it. Reed, having been serenaded by the sound of people vomiting from his work as a bartender, took it in stride. The acrid smell of bile and alcohol a familiar aroma, though it was making his eyes burn. He wondered if the vent fan still worked in the bathroom. To his total lack of surprise, it did not. He flipped the little switch off and on idly.
His finger went stiff as he did a little double-take and bent in to look under the switch where it used to read "OFF". In an instant he was leaning back laughing hard and then taking a bow from his mirth. Stooped over he gestured to the switch, still laughing.
"Someone drew little balls under this thing! How the hell long do you suppose this was under there? It's a BOY! Have a cigar!" he laughed.
He would have had more sympathy if Jon hadn't been so determined to get plastered the way he had.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 7:02 pm
Jon's ears fell back against his curls, tail lashing the air with slow, stiff cuts. It was more the sound of Reed's laughter that grated his nerves than it was his nonchalance. When he felt he had zero energy in his body, everything just sounded louder. He made a low noise - a groan of annoyance or distress? - and pushed his hair back from his face with one hand, the other undoing the buttons of his shirt. He felt disgusting, clammy; the long sleeves sticking to him in places they shouldn't stick didn't help.
His stomach contracted several more times, body anxious to be rid of every last drink he had had, especially that appletini (which he could suddenly taste all over again, much to his chagrin). Though his gag reflex continued to swell, he really had nothing more to give because he was damn sure his stomach and his liver were already floating around in his bile. Scraping his teeth across his lower lip, he took a deep breath and spit into the toilet. He sat back and fastened his hand over his mouth.
"Nice skirt."
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 7:11 pm
Reed posed, "It's a kilt. Would you rather I went without?"
He let the towel off his waist and instead where he needed the last clean towel he had. Reed pulled it over his head and started drying his smooth shaven scalp and his damp hair. Reed watched patiently as Jon purged his insides. Reed wondered if now was a good time to mention where the disinfectant was. Hmm, probably not. Then it was on to the next order of business.
"You've got two choices, Mr. Jon Aardvark," he teased, rubbing the water from his hair with his towel. "You can either take the bed and I'll take the sofa, or I'll take the bed and you can have the sofa. It's got a pull out bed but I don't recommend you sleeping on the ratty old mattress. I suggest you sleep on the cushions. I've got a spare bedsheet... erm.... somewhere."
He tried to remember where he had placed them. Reed wandered out to his bedroom and started sifting through his dresser drawers. Faint jingling and tinkling of metallic objects were heard. Quite possibly way more then should have been legally allowed in a dresser of the small size as his. The poor thing looked to be the dresser Reed may very well have had since he was a child. Faded stickers were peeling away on the front and there was the stain of lipstick here and there. The wood was probably cured with cologne and all matter of sinful liquids.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 7:36 pm
"I don't give a good God damn where I sleep," he said. Jon rubbed his mouth along the inside of his shirt, pulling away soon after in disgust. In the end he shucked his coat and his shirt, figuring the latter was ruined anyway. He curled his nose; it was new too - oh well, what could you do?
"Wherever I make it, I'll sleep," he continued hoarsely, throat raw. Gripping the sink, he hauled himself up and played with the knobs, hoping for warm water which the sink decided it wasn't going to give him. Jon snorted and bent into the sink bowl, splashing cold water into his face and rinsing his mouth out. After a second's thought, he decided what the hell and drank from the tap as well. When he stood up to inspect himself in the mirror, he found he had no reflection at all.
It took him a moment to realize it was messed up and in that moment, he entertained the idea that he was a vampire. It brought him little amusement.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 8:06 pm
"Don't be mad, you're not the first one in history to suffer from drinking more than you should have," Reed said. "Are you sure you don't want to shower? I didn't use all the hot water this time."
He wandered, naked as he was and letting his skin air dry, to his pants pockets and fished out his cellphone. Reed looked through his missed calls and inspected the numbers listed as he whistled. It was a message from the boss himself. With a quick check into his voicemail, he listened in patiently. Whistling all the while and checking Jon to make sure he hadn't killed himself in the toilet bowl. Drowning in the toilet didn't seem a respectable way to die. His eyes went wide for a minute and he pulled the cellphone from his ear and looked at it incredulously, as though it had insulted his mother. Pressing it to his ears again, his brows furrowed and he listened close as though it suddenly was conspiring with him. The whistling had stopped.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 8:37 pm
Jon decided against responding. Between the migraine setting in and his own wounded pride, the mixture did well to keep that smarmy little mouth of his shut. His subconscious consoled him at arms length, told him aw, don't worry, pal, we all get piss drunk every now and again! Except happy Mr. Reed, of course, his little patronizing voice of reason.
His ears twitched, Okay, that was the bitterness of embarrassment talking. At least he realized that in time.
"Will I have to air dry too?" he shot back when he figured he was ready to talk. He pressed a hand to the wall to keep his balance as he kicked his shoes and socks off, his free one working at his belt. At this point, he didn't care if he had to sleep in the shower. It took him all the coordination he had (which wasn't much at this point) to abandon his clothes in a pile on the floor and climb into the--
"Jesus, what the hell drove you to this curtain, Reed?" He picked at it and pulled it out to look at the gaudy thing in its full glory. Oh well. He cut the water on and stepped into spray, trying his hardest to disregard the rhinestone Elvis protecting the sanctity of his nudity.
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