BLACK TAR → madwheeler

zero.

      ⋆｡˚ MIKE WHEELER'S FACE constricted briefly as he sunk into the black leather couch, his dark jeans rubbing against the skin of his legs as he wrapped his index fingers together.

   His uncomfortable aura wasn't due to anything in his surroundings. It was due to the fact that he hadn't had heroin in about five hours, and if he didn't get a fucking goddamn needle shoved up his veins in the fastest way possible-

   Breathing heavily, he cut his thoughts off with a slash.

   If he didn't calmly start the process - spoon, liquid, heat - and then gently tear the needle towards his vein, things would start to go downhill very fast.

   He threw a look over at his best friend, Max, who was in his same position; only thankfully not worse off yet. She was a new user, still only about a month in, and thank fuck fuck fuck it wasn't by the taunts of the needle yet. He had managed to not let it go that far.

   No, for Max it was the pills. 40mg of oxys a day and getting closer to 80s by the minute. He had seen the effects of the pills on her, and knew it was soothing - a blanket, a hand reaching out to the darkness and cradling her cheek as she slipped into an abyss. But with the pills came the money, and when there was no money, there was withdrawals. The withdrawals spiked her anxiety and her fear, making her sweat and groan.

   Yeah, according to the both of them, the drugs were always better than the withdrawals.

   Mike closed his eyes. Not this early on, he thought desperately. She's just getting started, she's got so much trauma built up to even get to this point that the last thing she needs is the shaky hands and the sleepless nights and the-

   "Michael!"

   His head shot up as he looked at the figure clad in black in front of him. Dark jeans, ripped tshirt, and a gleam in his eyes that wasn't quite sincere -- his once best friend, Xan Elliot. Ever since the group had started though, he and Xan hadn't been as much friends as they were "boss" and "employee".

   Mike and Troy sold drugs, Xan distributed and was the head of everything, and everyone else followed. There were only seven of them including Max, but that was all there needed to be.

   After all, when dealing with absolutely illegal fucking shit, you couldn't trust anybody. Ever.

   "Want to explain to me how you two ran off with two pounds of oxys this morning and came back with jack fucking shit?" Xan said in a scarily quiet tone.

   Mike held back the laugh that threatened to whistle through his teeth. Not with Max in the room. Instead, he held himself in check as he met Xan's eyes through his dark bangs. "It was an accident, alright? Someone fucked us. We don't know who."

   "Someone," Xan repeated. "Someone that got my specific name called down to the front office. My bag searched. My face now known."

   Mike didn't look at Max again, not wanting to see the slight sheen of sweat on the side of her face from lack of oxys in her system. Instead, he forced his eyes to stay on Xan's.

   "We're sorry that happened," He forced the words from his throat for Max's sake, and so that the two of them could be able to pick up their fucking drugs. He wasn't a shit sorry for Xan. He had known awhile ago that the boy was an asshole. Xan deserved whatever complications were thrown at him, in Mike's opinion.

   "We just sold to the regular people."

   Mike's eyes flew in the direction of Max's voice, his chest constricting as Xan's gaze found her's.