He reaches forward, thinks, for a moment (thinks) - And kick them while they move - but Young Man is already down. Young Man’s breathing. Ides. Ideas. Sasuke breathes with him, leans forward, catches the foreign glint of gold (fake, the real one likely sold), and whispers, because unconscious or not, he can tear Young Man’s ear apart. Whispers, sings, really, “Who wants to live forever...?”
He thinks – and he thinks as he undoes Young Man’s frail coat, when he finds the expected, pack clean of syringes in the innermost pocket – that his family would like to answer that question. He unwraps them, one by one by one, snaps the needles tight into their holsters, then litters them on the ground. One in Young Man’s hand (close the fingers, you reek, close them), the other on his lap. A lot in the grime, swimming like swine.
A lot, and something’s missing.
It takes Sasuke a moment, but the trick is half the journey, and he sinks a blunt nail in his punch-opened lip, where the cut is deep – deepens – does it once, and twice, and again, until his fingertips are just a little red, and he rests enough of that paint on Young Man’s face. Hands. Shirt.
There – camera out, steps back. Done.
(The lighting’s bad. If there were police, the headlights would do. The image is incomplete. He is not a master yet. He is out of jail.)
“Wasted addict spreading his legs for a dose.” Click. “Roll one.” Click. Click. Click. “Still four.”
Click.
There’s blood on his chin and dust on his clothes, and there’s – there’s – Sasuke shrugs, he has to confide, because there’s –
“…portfolio review tomorrow.”
There’s a always deadline.
(And he doesn’t know, really, doesn’t know what this was all about, why you’d take a beating, man healthy and tall, why you’d let some strange druggie make you a little bitch, why you’d lie there, just lie, there were no lies tonight, and tonight again, tonight hurricane woman’s on Channel 4, tonight, it’s an exclusive. )
Other Notes:
♦ his sense of fashion makes baby Jesus cry.
♦ goes through phases of reading very little, then incredibly much; likewise, sleeping .
♦ infrequent smoker (cigarettes only), mostly to look cool in certain environments. ._.
♦ frequently tries to raid the college’s lab supplies and whatever records he can get his grubby hands on to prove that something’s wrong there; is not nearly as subtle about it as he thinks.
♦ fond of tomatoes and plain white rice.
♦ has a vague artistic talent, and an unmitigated hatred for postcards. This is not the non sequitur you are looking for.
Any Questions:
Frehuhr that’s a 207–word first person sample, but. I tried… and nothing more… came i5t4huroet43h sorry ;_;
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