Desperate in Decline

I turned away from Ray, and headed back the way I had come the night before. The walk back to my apartment was longer than normal, and my head still hurt from lack of alcohol. I shuffled along the sidewalk, my feet dragging across the filthy ground. Jersey was nice this time of year, when the leaves were just beginning to fall. I shoved my key into the barred door to my apartment building.
The elevator was broken, as it always had been, so I took the stairs to the 6th floor. It was the only exercise I ever got, and I was always throughly winded when I reached the top.
I fumbled for my other key as I caught my breath, and then twisted it into the lock. I made straight for the bedroom, and passed out on my mattress. Bridges weren't the best places to sleep, and it was early.

A few hours later I woke up suddenly to a frantic buzzing.
"Gerard! You had better be in there!" A voice came from the intercom.
"Bert?" I frowned, recognizing the voice. How did he know where I lived?
"Yes! Now buzz me up asshole!" He yelled, and, against my better judgement, I let him up.

Bert was huffing when he got to the top of the stairs where I was waiting for him.
"Gerard! The drugs! I need the drugs." He managed to get out, hands on his knees. It took me a moment to realize he meant the heroin he'd given me.
"Oh, well, I don't actually have them." I replied sheepishly, feeling this was an awkward conversation to have in a hallway but not wanting to let Bert into my place. Bert stared at me, and his eyes widened.
"Fuck. Oh FUCK." Bert groaned. "Tell me you have any! Just a bit?!"
"No, I threw it off the bridge." I mumbled, gesturing vaguely behind me. "I didn't want to start on that." I justified as his expression became shocked.
"You did what?! God Gerard, they weren't for you! I gave you the wrong bag!" He practically screamed.
"Oh. Well, sorry."
Bert wasn't having any of it. "Gerard, you FUCKER! I am so screwed!! Fuck." Bert was frantic, and getting angry. "What was going through your head! I know you Gerard! You know me! I would never give you fucking heroin!" He was pacing now, and getting in my face.
"Sorry-"
"No, 'sorry' doesn't FUCKING cut it. I'm dead. I'm so fucking dead!"
"Well, hey," I began, "you have more, right?" I was desperate to calm him down. I wasn't entirely sure that was the right thing to say. I wasn't.
Bert stopped pacing, and stared at me, eye twitching.
I probably shouldn't have pointed it out, as I found myself standing over the sink a moment later trying to staunch the blood pouring out of my nose. It felt broken. Bert sure knew how to throw a punch.

***

I lay down on my bed, and tentatively moved my tongue across my top lip. It was salty. The blood had finally dried. I stared at the ceiling, thinking about Bert and the bridge boy and the drugs. The fucking drugs. I sat up, and decided I was going to get clean. Another bill had appeared in the mail today, and I knew I couldn't keep up if I kept blowing all my cash on booze and pills. I probably needed a job too.
My first thought was the bar, but I figured being so close to alcohol as I was sobering up wasn't a good idea.
I thought about other businesses in the neighborhood. I wasn't exactly in a prime location, but I knew there were some legit, if crappy shops in walking distance of my apartment.
There was a second hand store, a Chinese restaurant, a few bars, a CD and comic store, and a convenience store. The answer was obvious.
I rolled off my bed and shuffled to my feet. The convenience store was a few blocks away, and I prayed they had an opening.
I shoved open the door to my apartment and meandered out into the hall. I had checked myself in the mirror and changed into a clean shirt. I thought I looked pretty put together after wiping away the blood. Turns out my nose wasn't broken.
The walk to the store was relaxing. I actually picked up my feet and welcomed the clean air. It was autumn, and leaves were falling. I could learn to enjoy this route.
A few minutes later I reached the convenience store. The door opened with the clang of a bell, and a dreary teenager standing behind the register glanced up from his playboy magazine.
I walked toward him.
"Um, hi. Is there any chance you have a job open, uh, Jerry." I questioned nervously, glancing down at his name tag.
Jerry glared at me. "No."
"Oh." I looked at my feet. I wasn't sure what I had expected. "S-sorry."
I walked out of the store quickly, flushed with embarrassment. I began to walk away, when I head someone yelling in the store across the street. It was coming from the comic book store.
"You fucking disgust me! Get out of my fucking store! You're fired!" A voice yelled.
"Fucking transphobe! I'm exactly like everyone else!" Someone replied.
"Get out of my God damn store." The first person replied icily.
"Please. I need this job. Please, you can't do this."
"I just did. Get out."
I saw the door swing open and turned my head. I didn't want whoever to see me staring. After I was sure they were gone, I approached the shop.
Pushing open the door, I stepped into my childhood.

"Slow down Mikey!"
"You speed up! I've been saving up for months!" Mikey called back to me.
We ran into the store, running up to the counter. The clerk looked down at us with skepticism.
"I'd like that please." Mikey squealed. The clerk frowned, but turned and lifted the $75 lightsaber from the shelf behind him.
"Gee look! Oh my gosh, an actual lightsaber!"
"You know it can't kill people, right?" I checked with him.
"If you hit them hard enough, yes, it can." The little boy next to me grinned, shoving his hand full of bills onto the counter.

There was no lightsaber behind this register, but comic books lined the walls and there was a collection of vinyl record in the back. Stacks of CDs filled up cabinets, and I smiled to myself. I could definitely work here.
"Can I help you?" An angry looking man huffed.
"Uh, ya. I saw that you might have a job opening..." I asked hesitantly. The man perked up though, and he nodded.
"I do. I most certainly do. Do you have any experience?"
"Well, I've never worked at a comic store, but I've had my fair share of register jobs. Also, I read a bunch of comics growing up." I replied eagerly.
"Okay, well I don't see why I shouldn't hire you, here." He said, handing me a piece of paper. "Write down your name, contact info, all that stuff. Can you come in at 10 tomorrow? I can give you the low down before we open at 11."
I wrote down all of my information and handed him back the paper. "Thank you. Thanks a bunch." He didn't seem like a nice guy, but I was desperate. I hated to work with a transphobe, but at least thinks were beginning to look up a bit.
Now I just had to save the boy.

Notes

It has been ages. Sorry. I haven't had wifi, and once I got some I was sharing my room with my friend and never had the opportunity to write. I don't have any at my house now, but I'm at the library and will be for a bit. Sorry for any mistakes, I just edited this after posting it originally and fixed up a bunch of stupid errors. Also, has anyone listened to Placebo? I'm obsessed. Also, comment a bunch I'm always looking for internet friends. I will reply :)
-Panickedemo