Watermelon Sugar Die

Beautiful Hell

His ribs were not so tender he couldn't move about the rental house, but the smack kept him pinned most of the day. Meals were replaced with poppy flower dreams. Harry had kept the injections minimized to three times a day. The in-between times, there was pleading, threatening. Louis would slap Harry, grab at his hair, or he would beg, offer things that Harry was tempted to take. There was no longer reason to guard the door. Harry would pass Louis his mobile if there was a text or call. He did not have to urge Louis to make excuses. He'd simply peel back the plastic of a new syringe, and the crinkle of the plastic would keep Louis drawn into their little world.

 "Just having a great holiday with Harry," Louis would tell his sisters. To some of the blokes he ran with he texted:  TOO MANY FIT GIRLS OUT HERE. LOST IN TANG LAND. 

Doh-Ray and his Nike box of chemicals made a weekly appearance to drop off supplies. "It takes a strong man not to test this shit yourself when it's always in your presence," he warned Harry.

Harry doled out the heroin rations, but Louis was quite capable of shooting up all on his own now.

One rainy Tuesday, the boys sat on the sofa watching the Jurassic Park reboot. It was not nearly as good as the original, but Harry was relieved they were doing something normal for a change, something they would have done BEFORE. But the itch overcame Louis. He stood up, looming over Harry. "Give me the shit," he said sternly. 

"What?" Harry objected. "No! You've gotten all your getting today. Just try to watch the movie, man."

The muscles in Louis's jaw tensed. His eyes flashed with the hint that he might try to overcome Harry, but Louis, who was already a rather small bean, was feather light now. He had no weight to throw around. He let his eyes relax, his shoulders drop. An ounce of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Louis gave Harry's chest a soft push, soft as a cat batting at a toy. Harry leaned back against the sofa cushions, interested to see what Louis had up his sleeve. With that, Louis straddled Harry's lap. He knew what Louis wanted, but he had to know, What would Louis do to get it?

He pushed his fingers into Harry's thick hair, stared at the kewpie doll lips just inches from his face. And then, he pulled those lips to his. Their tongues tangling. Louis squeezed his thighs against Harry's. The friction of their jeans singing, "Hosanna."

Harry was no idiot. He'd used the desire of others to get his way too many times to count. Of, course, that was what Louis was doing. Louis grinding against him. Louis with his hand up Harry's shirt and down his trousers. But he didn't care. He squeezed him to him tighter, breathed him in deeper. 

Louis peeled himself off Harry who was panting, wiping kissing drool from his chin. Louis walked to kitchen. He reached to the top of the freezer to grab a granola bar box. Clearly, he'd seen Harry stash the dope, but he knew Harry wouldn't let him indulge.

"You can't shoot it now," Harry said.

Louis walked back to Harry, box in hand. "I'm not going to," Louis smirked. Harry shifted and adjusted himself, assuming that kissing was over and an argument was rising.

"You think I forgot what you did to me in the gym? Or this?" he held up the stash in the granola box. "You can pump me full of this shit, but I ain't going to forget, Harry."

Harry started to deny and apologize, but Louis held up a finger. He straddled a confused Harry once more, pulling the needles, baggy, and a thin rubber hose from the box. Louis wrapped the rubbery tourniquet around Harry's arm and pulled it tight. Harry moved his hand to stop him, but Louis kissed his cheek and pushed his hand away.

Louis asked, "What are you going to do, Harry? Turn yourself into the police? Kill me?" Louis shook his head. He tightened the band on Harry's arm deeper. "You put me in this hell, " Louis reminded, "And you're going to join me."

Harry awaited his own reaction. Maybe he'd break frail, little Louis and bury him in a pretty  garden full of flowers back in Doncaster. Louis cooked the stinking powder on a spoon. Harry did nothing. Louis pulled the warm liquid into a syringe. Harry did nothing.  Louis felt for a bulging vein beneath the tourniquet. Harry did nothing. Louis tapped the vein with the thin needle. Harry did nothing. What was he going to do? It was Louis.

And then, all the warmth of beach holidays, all the peace of napping in his childhood bedroom, all the excitement of a roaring crowd, all the love of talking all night with Louis, it broke through arteries. Stress, fear, disappointment--Gone! 

He couldn't open his eyes, but he felt Louis stroke his cheek with a rough thumb. "It's a beautiful hell, ain't it?" Louis laughed.