Nov. 21st, 2006

killingsoftly: (Free crack?)
He'd tried so hard to be good, for so many months now. It hadn't been easy, wasn't easy still. Too long with things in his system, and even Warren's warmth couldn't take away the chills sometimes. He'd hid the worst of it, and there had been distractions. Helping Warren. Loving Warren. Living with Warren. Touring with Warren. Enough good things that he hadn't felt the aching emotional need. High on love was enough, most days.

Most days.

Other days there was agitation he tried to disguise as hyperactivity. He couldn't sleep some nights, and others he tried to hide how sick he felt. He had the crowds now, and they fed his basic needs, which helped. Warren there battled the depression, but he had to cling to him, sometimes inexplicably it would seem, hold on to the one thing that kept the box tucked away. The anger that Warren had lashed out at him last time was enough to keep him straight, most days.

But there were days when he wanted. Days he missed the high. Missed how easy that sweet smoke could make everything. The agitated light that rested usually in Byron's eyes did not help. Knowing it was right there did not help. Temptation beckoned more than he'd let anyone know, but day by day it got a little easier, and he hoped that one day he'd be strong enough to throw the box away for good.


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September 2007

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