Watermelon Sugar Die

Junk Alley

Louis and Harry had the hoods of their sweatshirts pulled over their heads as they walked down what was known as "Junk Alley." They'd try to find the stuff from junkie friends, but half of them had gone to rehab and were talking about steps and meetings and higher powers. The other half  were long dead. This was it. This was the spot in London the internet said you could score.
"I don't like that we're using words like 'score," Harry complained as they shuffled toward a shifty-eyed blonde kid with mouth sores. They hadn't had to use terminology like this when Doh-Ray was around. The had to look up things like "dope sickness" on their phones  because because they hadn't fathomed such things before.

"Heroin," Louis whispered and nodded to the kid in the alley.

"You a cop?" the kid asked. "Nobody asks for a drug by its, like, classified name. No, I ain't got no HEROIN, officer."

"Fuck off..." Louis started in as the boy turned to find another selling spot.

Harry put a hand on the kid's shoulder. He pushed his hood off. "I'm Harry Styles."
It was only just past noon and bright, but the boy still squinted and came in for a closer look.

"No, you ain't," he decided. He took a second glance. "Or, God, I hope you ain't."

"He is Harry Styles. I'm Louis Tomlinson," he pushed the off his head, too.

"Who?" the junkie kid asked.

Without resolving to do so, Harry punched the kid in the blistered mouth. A second time. The scrawny kid fell against the building. A third. "Stop, Harry!" He heard Louis's voice like a distant echo.

 
The kid was on the road with his arms crossed over his face. A fourth punch, and Harry could feel teeth give way beneath his fist.

 
Louis was trying to pull him back.

 
Harry squeezed the boy's neck. Tighter. Tighter.

"Fucking stop!" Louis screamed.

 
Harry looked at the limp form. They face was slick with red. "Let's get the fuck out of here," he said before emptying the boys pockets.

 
There they were. Sweet little baggies of succulent powder.

"What. The. Fuck. was that?" Louis seethed. "You near about killed that kid!"

Harry didn't want to argue. He wanted to get high. Right now. In the car.

"That? That was nothing," he had no patience for excuses. He grabbed his rig from the glove box and began searching his arms to see if they'd healed enough for another round.

"Knocking the shit out of me. 'Bout killing that kid. You have gotten violent as fuck. Is this some fame shit that makes you think you can fuck people up just," Louis throws his arms up, "just whenever you feel like it?"

Harry eyed Louis matter-of-factly, "No. I've always enjoyed hurting people." He went back to vein-hunting. He looked over to Louis. "Oh, pick your jaw up, Mr. Morality. I'd never hurt my sweet Lou." He grabbed Louis by the jaw and kissed his fuzzy jaw line.

When Harry passed a cellophane bag to Louis, he rolled down his window, and threw it back into Junk Alley.