His eyes were full of the night sky we were under, so full to the point of bursting. His pupils dilated, exploding, looking to the moon that wasn't there. He let out a sigh that sounded more like a cough, something trying to escape from his throat. He saw me staring at him again, like a child full of wonder, and slumped on the ground.
I wanted to hold him, to talk to him, but he was-
God, I'm totally tripping out. Can you give me a lift? I can't-
My black car shook on the gravel driveway, and he started humming.
Does your car always shake this much?
There was laughter in his voice. I felt anger boil up inside me, simmering. It felt good. I said, with more anger than I felt, No. It's just the gravel.
He was clutching his syringes in his right hand, and despite this they shook precariously like they would fall out of his claw fist and stab me in my thigh. I shuddered. He looked at them, shaking there, and gave a small smile.
They look so innocent, don't they? Like children.
They look pretty dangerous to me. I wanted to be vicious, angry, cruel. I glanced at his eyes, with his pupils wide, and I knew I couldn't do it. His eyes got to me.
They won't do anything to you.
They've already done their bit.
He was still smiling slightly, and as I stopped in front of his house his expression changed.
What? We're at your pla-
You are so damn beautiful in the moonlight.
His hands were shaking as he fumbled desperately with my buttons, his mouth everywhere and nowhere. I wanted him, didn't I? Did I? Didn't I?
He was startlingly gentle, and I wanted more than ever to hurt him for being able to do this to me. To make me want him, with no effort at all. He slammed his fist on the soft material of the car seat in frustration, because he couldn't unzip his fly. His hands were shaking too much, so I did it for him. I did it all for him.
His teeth were sharp beneath his cherry red lips, and his hands roamed everywhere. I heard him groan deeply when he was inside me, like an animal. He held me for a moment, with his warm hands making circles on my back, and I wondered where his innocent syringes were. I wrapped my arms around him as tightly as I could, and something inside me wanted to protect him with everything I had. His touch was sending shocks through my skin, waves of sensation down my spine. He was gasping gasping gasping, now-
We lay quite still for a while, and his heart felt like a bird trapped in a cage beating beating beating its helpless wings. He was whispering things under his breath that sounded like 'shatter' and 'lust', and it made me feel profoundly sad. He asked me if I wanted to come in, and saw me hesitate.
I'm not too- I mean, it's late and I-
Oh, a few more hours. Please.
He looked at me again with those pleading crystal pupils, and I was his in an instant. Excuses excuses excuses flew out of my head and became sweat on my palms.
His room smelt like cigarettes and beer. Cans and butts were scattered on the floor. I looked at him, his hands still trembling.
You are a walking addiction, I heard myself say, just above a whisper.
The shadows in his room made me feel slightly scared, and he sat on his bed. He reached for my hand and rubbed his rough thumb over the veins in my wrist, and I sighed softly. He stared at me for a long moment with his moonless eyes.
Do you like Lucy?
He smiled as best as he could in his drugged out haze and it was lopsided. Charming. Infuriating.
I love Lucy, He smiled lazily, and I grew increasingly jealous of this girl that didn't exist. He looked behind some beer cans on his dresser and in his hand were Lucy's. Ah, Lucy. I understood.
The pills looked surprisingly childlike, sitting there. Red and bright. Like candy. I closed my eyes and swallowed, and Lucy wrapped her cool arms around my throat, she had me under her spell and her colours exploded behind my eyelids. I loved Lucy as well.
I had always been told never to talk to strangers. But to do drugs with them, and sleep with them? I supposed they weren't strangers after that. His fingers were curling around my own, and we talked. We talked of babies born and dead men buried, and of children chasing after shockingly red balloons and trees dancing in the wind. We talked until my mouth was dry and he was staring at me again, our insides tingling everywhere.
I wanted to talk more, but Lucy was saying no, no and he was on top of me again, but without the car door handle getting shoved into my back. He was kissing me and whispering Lucy's name between my mouth and neck, and my head buzzed with unspoken words. I wanted to be tangled in him, to be part of him and his oceanic eyes full of Lucy and sky, and mysterious chemicals in innocent syringes.
Would you like to come over tomorrow?
Yeah, okay. Tomorrow is okay.
Tomorrow was too late. Tomorrow was an eternity away. His fingers were running through my hair and I thought I would never get tired of them, wavering the way they did. All the excuses I thought of seconds ago were already gone, fading into a cluster of ruby red Lucy's, who were making me promise another visit. Tomorrow was too late.
Time passed and Lucy became our third heartbeat. I was starting to become a walking addiction, like he was. We spent time with Lucy like we did the day before, and the day before that. My social life was soon gone gone gone in a blinding flash of blood red Lucys, all of them painfully beautiful. I thought I was in love with him. He made me feel like no one else could. He said things that made me think- that made me want more of Lucy.
I thought about how we didn't really love each other, it was more of an addiction- to each other. His fingers were intertwined with mine almost all the time now, and at times I would threaten him, and tell him to change for me. Those were the times I was scared. His eyes looked more like shiny holes, and his hands… Well, they weren't hands anymore.
You'll leave me? And I'll care. I'll die if you go. I'll want you back.
We danced with Lucy on the night he died. You wouldn't think that it wouldn't be from the pills, from Lucy, but her pleasure came with a price and I remembered thinking thinking thinking, the slut.
His hands were shaking more than ever as he lay on top of me, and his mouth again looking for something on my skin that didn't seem to be there. At this point Lucy had become mine almost as much as she had become his. Lucy had us under her control, and she had completely consumed us.
We had both become animals, always looking for the new turbulence of an inconceivable reality, and rushing on from that moment to the next one. The times when a stick of fairy floss could get me thrilled were so far away, and in their place stood thousands of striking Lucy's.
I left his house that night, and naturally it immediately felt like he was gone for an eternity and his eyes full of sky had faded into nothing. My hands were starting to tremble, too, without my vices. Only after a few hours of sleep I was back and crashing crashing crashing on the door for his eyes, his hands, his mouth, and my third heartbeat. I climbed through the window and the cold glass cut up my arms, but I didn't care at that moment. I kept thinking, him, him him. Lucy, Lucy, Lucy.
He wasn't there. There were Lucy's scattered all over his bed, and just looking into them made me feel slightly calmer. I loved Lucy. A note on his small, creaky dresser read He's dead. Last night, from too many Lucy's.
I promised myself I wouldn't touch Lucy after that, but Lucy was unstoppable. The cycle didn't stop. I danced like never before with her again that night, and my eyes tripped into a blur of Lucy's that he would never need again.
A N: I'm interested to know, if you've reviewing this, what gender did you see the protagonist as? I've had a few different thoughts from people, and there's no right answer, but I'm curious to know what you think. Every bit counts!