Our Little Game

Quartz

The lone boy limped down the alleyway with a ragged duffle bag slung over one shoulder as the sound of fighting dogs broke through the night air. God, I fucking hate it here. The sound of his sneakers brushing against the ground echoed through the empty alley while the cold fall air forced a shiver through him, the only light in the darkness surrounding him illuminating from the phone screen in his hand.

"Hhh..fuck.."

Suddenly the phone grasped in his hand let out a quiet buzz, startling the male out of his daze before he glared down at the message notification popped up on his screen. Good work, doll. See you tomorrow. Tears welled in the boy's eyes before he let out a yell, throwing his phone against the nearby dumpster. He slumped to his knees as tears mixed with black shadow rolled down his cheeks. A distant police siren rang out as the boy buried his face in his hands.

"Shiloh..?"

The boy's head shot up at the sound of his name being called, his gaze frantically flicking around to find the source. A trembling sigh of relief escaped him at the familiar sight of his roommate and best friend just beyond the dumpster he was knelt beside. Shiloh had known Mica since they were little kids, Mica living next door to him and his mother. The performer didn't have many friends growing up since he was too shy and socially awkward to make any, but Mica would never take "no" for an answer. Ever since then, Mica had stuck by his side no matter what. The sight of the brunette brought the weight of the day's events crashing down on him.

"Mica..hic.."

Mica rushed over, wrapping his arms around the other boy so tight he could barely breathe. The purple haired male sobbed brokenly into his friend's chest, his body trembling in his arms. Minutes passed as the two remained embraced with Mica's hand rubbing along Shiloh's back soothingly.

"Shi..We should head home, buddy. It's not safe to be out right now."

Shiloh nodded his head weakly and sniffled before shakily standing from his knelt position on the ground. He looked down at his legs and gave a mental sigh of relief that his legs remained unmarked. Dante was not a fan of damaged property.

The two boys walked in near silence back to the rundown shit hole they called an apartment. Mica fished a single rusted key from his pocket before unlocking the front door. The overhead fluorescents flickered, barely illuminating the nearly unfurnished studio aside from a single mattress situated in the middle of the room. A dull throb had settled in Shiloh's head, causing his usual soft expression to twist into one of pain. He limped over to the mattress before flopping down onto it haphazardly.

"Hey, Mic..Can you hand me my bag?"

The brunette nodded his head before setting down the worn duffle bag next to the other boy's head. Shiloh sat up on his elbow, reaching into the bag and feeling around. Just need a little bump to get some sleep..Finally his fingers captured the small plastic baggy he was searching for, holding a fine white powder inside. He carefully unzipped the bag before pouring a small amount onto the back of his hand. The boy brought his hand up to his nose before snorting the powder into his sinuses, Mica tisking his disapproval.

"Shi..That shit is so bad for you."

"Yeah well, at least I'm not shooting it up like everyone else."

He would never even consider injecting it like he had seen countless times around him. He'd seen the consequences before, the cruel look in Dante's eyes as he threw out the poor performer who had succumbed to his addiction. Any marks or imperfections, his toys were considered ruined. The club has a reputation to maintain which did not include dancer's with track marks.