Junk Love.

three.

Somehow, the bottle of Crown Royal survives. It's why Carter had laughed hysterically as he was freed from the wreck. The sheer irony of his life is laughable -- once the serpent burrows the venom will certainly strip him raw.

He serves as a train stop for a savior with uniquely lavender hair. She joins him, allowing her own snakes to settle under her skin. They practically feast upon the bottle, passing it back and forth, as they aimlessly wander.

Tonight the streets are decrepit -- rain puddles leak from wounds gauged in the sidewalk and lamps spotlight their path dull gold. They're the only beings on Earth. The bustle of the city is locked in quiet neon while "normal" people hole up in shops or bars.

"I'm Mel."

"I'm Carter. But, if we're getting into clubs, I prefer Gerard."

"Nickname?" Wry, Mel is like sweet n sour. Her purple hair reflects blue under the full moon.

"My given name is Carter Butler. But there's this loser actor with a dad bod named Gerard Butler."

Mel practically cackles. "You're skin and bones! What dad bod are you passing off to get into clubs?"

Gradually, their passing of the Crown gets sloppier. They're Hansel and Gretel roaming a dark haunted forest. Except, instead of marking the trail with bread crumbs, it's marked with splashes of whiskey. They explore a residential area -- crossing under bridges, spinning on a playground Merry-Go-Round, and kicking can's down alleyways.

Above them the sky is inky black. The Crown is long gone. Buzzed by lust and liquor they collapse clumsily on the lawn at the church-yard. Similarly to when Mel pulled him from the wreckage, Carter lays on her with his head rested against her chest and his lanky legs spread out past hers.

There's a slickness about him, a jungle cat, in all black with long limbs. His leather jacket fits his broad shoulders like a glove and his dark hair is greased back. A classic trapped in a modern era.

"I don't know what I'm going to do."

Mel is comfortable cradling him as she soothingly massages the crook of his neck. "What do you mean?"

"Everything I own was in that fucking car!" Suddenly he's twitching like fire ants are crawling under his skin.

"Are you alright?"

His whole body tenses, she can feel the hard muscles taut as a tight guitar string, but his legs still shake. "So do you have anymore smack or..."

Her heart sinks sideways with a twist. Mel isn't unfamiliar to a wild animal that is an addict. He has the look she feels. He's sure to have seen her dilated pupils in the sticky twilight or felt the supernatural racing of her heartbeat through the thin fabric of her flannel shirt.

They're the same. An entity like the streets.

Carter has never felt more alive. Mel has never felt so turbulent. Both of them are unpredictable, crashing from a high, but she remains at home. Despite his twitching, he doesn't reject her touch either. Any other woman would have singed his skin unbearably.

Mel thinks about the powder stashed back at camp. An uncomfortable lurch at her racing heart has accompanied the entire journey but worsens at the possibility she may lose him soon. She finds a handful of candy hearts. Those and a mere five dollars is all that's left in her pocket. Wordlessly, she hands Carter an orange heart.

Be Mine.

☯