It's Not a Fashion Statement

Oh no.
What did I do?
Fuck.
I can’t believe I did that.
Fuck.
I stare back at my hands, the ones that pushed the poor innocent boy up against the door and roamed his body.
God, and after what had just happened at work, how could I let myself get like that.
I’m perverted. I’m disgusting. I’m vile.
I hear muffled sobs coming from behind the door. He’s so shy and innocent, scared and broken. He’s gone through so much. And I can’t even handle my own fucking perverted thoughts.

The guilt is eating me alive, how could I take advantage of him like that? He’s living in a fucking house of a pervert. God, nothing will be able to make up for what I’ve done.

If I ever had any chance with this boy, I certainly don’t anymore. It makes me physically sick just thinking about what I did. I would never do anything like that again, but he’s lost all trust now.
There’s no going back.

I slide my back down the door and lean against it, holding my head in my hands. The stress is radiating off me. The sound of his muffled sniffs and often slight choking just adds to making me feel even worse. God, he must be so uncomfortable, fuck, he’ll never even want to see me again.
But what can I do? I want to make up for this, but maybe all he wants is nothing to do with me.

I don’t know what to do.

And Andy. Fuck, he was right too.
And now I’ve fired him, I doubt he’ll ever want to come back. Why was I such an arse? Yes, he was pissing me off, but there was no need to act upon it like I did. Andy is loyal, he’s always helped me, been there, given me the best advice. And now he’s gone. I won't be able to find anyone even close to him. And I know for certain, the last thing frank will want to be doing is stripping and letting an irresponsible, perverted man like me photograph him.

i feel the door open and i quickly move so i don't get hit by it. Frankie is standing there, looking down at me. Before I can even say anything, he slams the door back shut in my face. i deserved that.

I decide to do the only thing that has ever worked for me.
I stand up and I feel my head spin slightly. I make my way downstairs and grab my keys and phone and rush into my car.
-
I stop outside the store. Part of my brain is telling me to do it, but then the other part is shouting me to stop. Memories flooding through my head, good and bad, I brush them away and decide to go on.

I lock my car and shove the keys into my pocket. I wander down the dimly lit alleyway, the stench of various drugs and alcohol swimming through the fog and into my nose. I push the door open and the little bell rings. God, I forgot how old this place is.

“Ah, Gerard, long time no see?”
Bert smirks behind the counter. His greasy locks of hair fall in front of his eyes, his brows furrowing and his eyes trained onto me. The dim spotlights highlight his bone structure, making his face look awfully creepy. He makes me feel ill. He looks like a pedophile; in fact, I’m pretty sure he is. Not that I can exactly talk.
I curse myself again; I’m an awful person.

“Yes Bert, how have you been?”
I take my hood down and put a hand through my hair, pulling the long strands out of my face. Bert continues to chomp on his chewing gum, leaning over the counter and resting his chin on his hands.

“Nothing much has changed really, business is good. Apart from harry. He got fucking shit faced a few weeks ago and hallucinated and jumped off… I don’t know. But he’s dead now. I didn’t really like him anyway to be honest. He was always a bit of a twat really… remember that time he drugged your brother-“

“Oh yeah. Ouch, yeah I wasn’t too fond of him either,”
I don’t like thinking of what happened to Mikey, so I quickly agree in hoped he will move on.

“what’r you doin’ in this part of town anyway, way?” he pulled out a box of cigarettes and stood up, gesturing for me to join him. Why the fuck not.

I took one and he lit it for me, as we made our way out to the back of the store.

“I want booze, whatever you have-“

He flashed his gold tooth and smirked.

“Remember the good times gee… I’m so glad you’ve come back,”

I nodded in agreement, trying my hardest not to remind myself of all the memories working here. Yes, I used to work here with Bert. I was low on cash and trying to make it big in New York, the drug business has always been well paid, and to get to where I wanted I needed some cash. Plus, Bert and I have always been good friends. We used to go to parties every night, get shitfaced, sell people all sorts. Though, once it was taken way too far. Bert drugged someone and… it went wrong, really wrong. I try to erase the memory out of my mind, but the image of the lifeless body on the bed is something I’ll never be rid of.
No, don’t think about that now.

“oi, catch!” Bert tosses me a bottle of something, but I’m currently too stressed and desperate for anything to care what I’m about to poison my body with.
I unbutton my coat and throw it over a chair and take a drag of my cigarette. Fuck, it’s been so long. I undo my few top buttons and roll my sleeves up, letting the chilled air hit my warm skin. The burning on my tongue and the taste of the tobacco suddenly starts to make me forget about my stressing.

I take the bottle and put the tip under my arm, pulling to the side, hearing a pop indicating the lid has come off.

“Hey, you remembered!” Bert shouts from behind me. Opening a bottle with our armpits used to be Bert’s thing and mine. It was sort of like a signature friendship shake from preschool, but with illegal alcohol instead.
I clinked bottles with Bert and leant against the wall, necking down the bubbling liquid. I felt my throat burn, and as soon as I swallowed, I felt my body rejecting the stinging syrup. I felt it wash back up my oesophagus, but I swallowed it back down and I felt it now bubbling in my stomach instead of lingering in my throat.
I took another swing, the same happening again, only this time not as much. And again, and again, until it was like drinking water. Only water wouldn’t be able to calm my nerves and burn my stress out like the bitter yet sweet substances I'm intoxicating myself with once again.

I took another sip, yet to find the bottle was empty. I swear I had only just started it…
I dropped it, the glass smashing and making a loud cracking sound. Memories flooded back, instant regret hitting me like a tidal wave.

Two years I was clean of alcohol.

“Bert, give me some vodka-“
He smirked again and threw me a huge glass bottle. I did the same and popped the lit off under my armpit and necked half the bottle in one, the regret now washing over me, calming my nerves. God, I forgot this feeling.

It’s good. I feel alive.

Nothing matters.

“oi, gee, want some?”
Bert hands me a roll of, what looks like, weed. I nod, feeling a twitch from my tongue and my foot desperately start tapping on the concrete. My body shaking, I need something, Anything.
I take a drag, and oh fuck, it feels so good.

My body relaxes, the shaking now stopping, until suddenly it starts up all again. My foot taps impatiently and my body shivers, I cough and feel the burning syrup rise back up my throat. The taste fills my mouth, but I manage to swallow it back down again. I need more.

I take another drag, energy now pumping through my veins.
“Bert, give me whatever you fucking have. I don’t care-“
He gestures for me to follow him into the shop and tells me to take anything I want. I pick a random bottle up and open it, chugging the liquid down once again.

“Nice to see Gerard for once, not the so called Mr Way” I nod in agreement and open another bottle. Joining Bert outside again. I slouch onto the pavement and lean against the wall, knocking each drink back. I don’t know how much I’ve had now, but I don’t fucking care.

Notes

Sorry, i've had a lot of tests recently, *sigh*
but i'm here :))))
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thankyou, everyone :)