Slasher Scenarios - !MALE READER!

Sharing a Hit - Billy Lenz

"Billy, I'm back home," I called up to the mysterious man somewhere up there. As I closed the door behind me, I could hear the floor creaking underneath his feet as he skittered across the floor and looked down the railway. "Did you- did you bring it?" He asked eagerly, with an excited, almost childish look in his eyes.

I sighed and pulled "it" out of my back pocket. It was 2 perfect blunts from my friend. He bit his lip and his eyes lit up even brighter than before. He scurried down the stairs, his fluffy hair bouncing and bell-bottomed jeans flapping as he ran. "C'mon c'mon c'mon...!" He motioned with his hands as he ran to the living room, then turned the fire place on.

He crossed his legs and sat at most a foot away from it. "You idiot, your hair will catch on fire."
"Hurry up and bring it!"
"Fine! Needy bitch..."

I lumbered over and plopped myself down a little bit behind him. His eyes were vacant as he stared into the fire. His lip hung open a little and his teeth were almost glowing from the fire's reflection. I offered him one of the blunts, but he didn't acknowledge it, until I nudged his shoulder. Without looking, he took it.

I pulled out my lighter and lit up my blunt. Billy had his sat in his finger. "Here," I offered up my light.

"What if I..." he muttered almost incomprehensibly before tossing his weed into the fire pit.

"BILLY! NO! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" I jumped, watching my friend's money just burn up in the fire. He looked back at me, an indiscernible look on his face. He looked back at the fire before grabbing the poker and retrieving the smoldering, ashy blunt. He brought the fire poker up to his nose and took in a heavy, long breath. A smile crooked his lips, "It's fine... it still works..."

"Of course it still-" I coughed, "works! But now you just wasted it!"

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh, still works..." his eyelids were fluttering and he bit his lip again, still smirking. I have no idea if that is actually getting him high or not, because of his weird episodes.

Episodes.

More like screaming at the top of his lungs for an hour straight. Begging, to anyone, everyone, no-one. Asking why, reliving his past. Twitching and ticcing, shaking and trembling. Staring at everything, and nothing. Looking at me, looking through me, looking past me. "Floating", where he can't tell the unreal from the real. Not recognizing me. Not trusting me, then falling down to my feet begging that I stay with him forever, as long as we live. Wrapping his arms around my legs and crying.

"Here."

He looked at me, his eyes watery, droopy and cloudy. "What..."

"Take a hit. Give it back," I offered him my roll. He took it and examined it, for what I don't know. He took in a long breath and sighed, the smoke blowing out of his nose. He gave it back and looked back to the fire. The crackles, the sparkles, the logs shifting occasionally.

I scooted closer to him and joined as we watched the fire. After a bit, I felt him put his chin on my shoulder.