Of moonshine and memories | BoyXBoy

Lucian

(Flashback, Lucian's POV)

The bar's neon lights flickered softly as I wiped down the last of the sticky tables. The rhythmic clinking of glassware had faded into an eerie silence, leaving only the distant hum of the city outside. It was early morning, and the weight of the night settled heavily on my shoulders. Each movement felt mechanical, like I was going through the motions of a life that no longer belonged to me.

I glanced around, taking in the bar that had once represented my dreams. The laughter, the music, the promise of connection. Now, it felt like a prison, its walls closing in on me with every passing second. As I stacked the chairs, a familiar ache spread through my body, not just from the physical exertion but from the emotional toll of another night spent lost in a haze of alcohol and regret.

With the last chair stacked against the wall, I stepped outside into the cold air. The chill wrapped around me, a stark contrast to the warmth I longed for, a warmth I could only find in a fix. I leaned against the brick wall, closing my eyes, but the restlessness inside me refused to quiet.
My body felt like lead, aching in places I didn't even know existed.

The gnawing hunger clawed at my insides, and the thought of sleep felt like a cruel joke, a distant memory. The ache of withdrawal pulsed through me, reminding me that I needed something to dull the sharp edges of reality.

I couldn't even think about lying down. The moment I'd close my eyes, anxiety would flood in, drowning me in restless thoughts. The only thing that could relieve the pain, both physical and mental, was a fix.

I had fought against this addiction for years, but today felt different. Today, I felt broken and desperate...more so than usual. I pushed myself away from the wall, the chill of the air reminding me of my reality. I knew what I had to do. The familiar dread settled in my stomach like a stone.

The walk to Dean's place felt longer than it ever had. Each step was a reminder of how low I had fallen, how far I had strayed from the person I used to be.

I could barely remember the last time I had truly felt like myself...before Dean, before the bar consumed me. But those memories felt like they belonged to someone else, a ghost of a life that seemed unattainable now.

When I finally arrived at Dean's door, I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. I rehearsed a facade of confidence, plastering on the bravado I'd perfected over the years.
I knocked, the sound echoing through the stillness, and the door swung open almost immediately.

"Look who finally decided to show up." Dean said, a smug grin spreading across his face. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly. The crisp lines of his designer clothing screamed wealth and power.
His hair was meticulously styled, leaving no room for a single strand to stray.

He had a way of carrying himself that radiated confidence and dominance. Every detail about him, his polished shoes, the gleam of an expensive watch, conveyed that he was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted.

I used to find that kind of power enticing, the way he could walk into a room and command attention. But now, it just made my guts churn. I was tired of feeling inferior, caught in this web of dependency, while he reveled in his wealth and control.

"You look like shit." He remarked, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.

"Thanks." I muttered, shoving my hands into my pockets. I was painfully aware of how I must have looked in his eyes. Disheveled, exhausted, and on the brink of collapsing. "I need some stuff."

"Of course you do. Come in." He stepped aside, and I entered, the familiar scent of stale smoke and overpriced cologne wrapping around me like a heavy blanket. It felt suffocating, like I was stepping back into a cage I just couldn't escape.