PTX Oneshots/Short Stories

burnout

There were a million reasons to stay away from Mitch Grassi, but for some reason, you couldn't.

He was dangerous. A sinner. A burnout, just like you — the two of you were destined for disaster the moment your eyes met in that shady bar. He was smashed, and you were tripping; it was sloppy, uncoordinated, and hypersensitive sex, but it was the best you've ever had, and you swore you'd never forget it.

You were already on the path to Hell, but Mitch was miles ahead of you. He'd show up at your door at 3:00 AM with a wicked grin plastered on his face and a packet of coke dangling between his dainty fingers, promising you a good time in more ways than one. His alluring voice tempted you further and further into the depths of Hell, and before you knew it, you were hooked on more than that sweet brown sugar he insisted on sharing.

It didn't take long to realize that he was the closest thing to love someone like you would ever get to experience. There's something about him that you just can't resist, and you're not sure what it is; maybe it's his blissed out expression when he pricks his tiny little veins with those heavenly needles, or maybe it's the sultry way his lips drag against yours when he steals precious smoke from your lungs. You don't know why, but you're enraptured, and before you know it, your heart belongs in his devious hands.

It isn't love, and it never will be. It's just the best form of intimacy two lonely druggies can find; laying together in bed after a messy hookup, your senses haywire from overstimulation, the drugs coursing through your veins sweeter than the chocolate brown eyes staring into your own. Chemistry blazes through you both, and you wrap him up in your arms before he can escape you like all the others before him.

Mitch doesn't show up one day, and you wonder why you feel so heartbroken. He's turned you into an addict, a junkie, crackhead, a man in love. You liked to have your fun with limbo, but now he's opened the keyhole to Hell, and you miss him for it. You miss your playtime. You're addicted to more than just the drugs, and you need to find him.

A week passes without seeing the devil on your shoulder, and you decide it's time to search. Your feet take you to the hole in the wall bar where you first met, and you hope to see a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes, but no one is there but the bartender who's name you don't remember.

"Hello."

"Hey. Have you seen Mitch?"

He looks sad, and you only realize he was cleaning a glass when he puts it down. "He..."

There were a lot of things you were hoping he'd say. He decided to clean up and leave forever, he moved away. He —

"He OD'd last week."

Your world crumbles.

"Oh."

"I'm so sorry, Scott. It looked like an accident."

"It's okay."

"Can I get you anything? A beer...?"

"No, that's fine. Thank you."

You step back into the sunlight with a hole in your chest, and wonder how you let someone like Mitch take something so close to you. He dragged you down this path to Hell, and now he was waiting for you at the finish line, dangling your stolen heart above his head like a mistletoe, waiting for you to finish the race and join him where you belong. You can practically see his teasing grin; he caught you in his perfect little trap, and there was only one way to get back the heart that you'd so foolishly given away. Mitch died as he lived, and you will, too — blissed out, on top of the world.

There were a million reasons to stay away from Mitch Grassi, but you loved him, and you couldn't.

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barely edited - just felt like I should update something