PUKE. - Eminem/8 mile fanfic.

SERIES 2. CHPTR 2 (8)

Jimmy and I could fight for days. I mean, it didn't help that he would usually use it as an excuse to get completely wasted. As much as I hated it, I was hypocritical, over the past year I had been arrested twice, lost my job and my mother because of my addiction. But when I got clean Jimmy took off for a month, right when I needed him. Told me I was being difficult.

His car, tempted to slide on the Icy Detroit roads, barely made it as we pulled up to the curb. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, waiting for me to make the first move to exit.

"Fine" he mumbled, hopping out and kicking  the door shut. I let my face fall to my hands, not even bothering to unbuckle my seat belt. I wanted to cry. Everything had been so hard these past few months, I couldn't get work, we had no money, I swear my life was falling apart. Jimmy finally had some luck in his music quest though, he was due to meet with some record label next week. I was proud of him, I really was. But it just played on or already troubled relationship.

It had been 10 minutes before I realised I was still in the now fogged up car. Pulling myself out and slamming the door with a 'bang' that echoed through our run down neighbourhood, I walked inside. I could already hear the tv blaring from the front porch.

Hanging my jacket behind the door, I looked into the living room. Jimmy sat, feet up with his shoes and coat laying below. I swallowed the sick feeling in my throat and smiled. He had bleached his hair last week. I still wasn't sure whether I was a fan or not. But he was cute, regardless. Even when I hated his guts. I headed to the kitchen, I figured we could do with dinner. My cranky ass still needed to eat.

Unfortunately, we were pretty much out of food. I whipped up two peanut sandwiches and headed back to the living area, Jimmy hadn't moved.

"So" I plonked down on the faded red sofa, sitting the plates on the coffee table directly in front of us, "who you going to see next week?"
He turned his face to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder rough but securely. "Well, baby" he put great emphasis on 'baby' " you know how you laughed and said they'd get sick of me down at the radio station. Always harassing them and shit" he smiled, I had joked with him that they'd make sure he never got signed "someone down there hooked me up with Dr. Dre. You know? THE Dre" he removed his arm and sat forward, turning completely in my direction. "You know what that means?!"

Yeah, you'll get big and leave me.

I shook my head "no..what does that mean?" I semi rolled my eyes.

"Fuck, I hate how you do that" he scrunched his face up, "anyway, it means we'll get out of this shit hole. We can buy any fuckin' ride we want. We'll actually fuckin' be something babe" Jimmy was visibly excited, I loved to see him like this. But it never lasted. Call me skeptical but things always blew up in our faces.

I sighed. "So while you're out getting big" I half joked. "Where am I gonna be?"

Jimmy responded by pulling me into his lap. I let out a tiny squeal as he put his hands around my waist. Can't say I was expecting that.

"You" he looked up at me with that cheeky grin, "are gonna be right here" motioning down to his crotch. Typical

I laughed, "you jerk!" sighing, I leaned my head into his shoulder, letting my hand do it's own thing to his soft, bleached hair.

"I mean it though" he said, in a softer tone. "Tiff - we fight like mad but that's why I love you. God we go days without talking under the same fuckin' roof. I ain't doing this shit without you."

We sat a little while longer like that. Jimmy had learnt early on not to make any moves when we had been fighting, and honestly this had been a big one. I've felt so off lately, one minute I want to kill him, the next I can't get enough.

Part of me didn't want him to make it in the music scene. I'd stopped going down to the shows, they turned so violent over the last few months. When I stopped hanging out down there, my so called friends stopped inviting me out. Can't tell you the last time anyone called looking for me. It was always "is rabbit home. Where's Jimmy at" what the fuck am I meant to do when he leaves, let alone if he actually gets fucking famous.