Feel It All

He swayed a little while walking, one side to the other, his long straight silver hair following the swinging.

A tune resounded in his head, in such an obsessive way that he couldn't help singing it under his breath, moving his head to the beat.

It was the paper bag he was holding tight in his right hand, the source of his euphoria. He could sense it climbing his arm, running through his bones, his muscles, his nerves, and reaching his shoulder, his chest, and from his heart spreading to all his body.

He held it tight, so tight that, if someone wanted to take it away, they would have had to tear out his arm from his bust. He wouldn't have let anyone steal his euphoria, the pleasure it contained.

He automatically caught the half-rusted key from the pocket of his leather jacket and put it in the keyhole. He had to force it a little, as always, pulling a bit towards himself and then pushing it open.

He couldn't help looking around while getting in. The hallway, though, was desert. No one on the left, no one on the right.

Or was it?

His hand run to the stock of his gun, set into the elastic band of his trousers.

A tiny mouse trotted out of a hole in the wall, it looked at him with its little black eyes for a long moment, as wanting to dare him to pull out his gun and shoot it, then it cleaned its muzzle up with its little paws and went back in its hole without being harmed or worst, killed.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he moved his hand away from the gun and pushed the flat's door open to get in.

Suddenly dark, he had to force his green eyes to familiarize with the surrounding.

The shutters were closed, shadows spreading all around and making the floor a minefield anybody would have found difficult to walk on, except him. He could even have walked with his eyes closed through that chaos of bottles, clothes, plates, because it was the same chaos he had left there when he had gone out.

-You promised you would have tidied up a little.-

He said, out loud, as he set down on the kitchen area's table the bag with its precious cargo. A three-room apartment, they couldn't afford anything else.

The living-room, the hall and the kitchen were fused a single room, narrow, suffocating, most of it looking like a hurricane had just passed there. Then the bathroom, a cubicle with the bare necessities, and their bedroom, their little nest, their safe lair in which curling up.

He sighed, not receiving a single reply.

Then entered the bedroom while taking his jacket off.

A ray of pure white light divided perfectly the room into two, from a single, thin opening in the half-closed shutter.

And there he was, laying in bed, slightly whining.

He couldn't help sighing again at the sight, shaking his head.

-You didn't wait for me.-

He muttered, taking his place next to him on the bed.

His little brother's eyes were wide open, empty, the pupil so dilated that it had almost swallowed the green iris. His cracked lips were slightly parted, curved giving him a pleased expression, just as his eyebrows, slightly wrinkled.

He tossed a lock of hair from his face, to feast his eyes on that sight. With a small chuckle he realized that he still had the empty syringe stuck in his arm, the tourniquet improvised with the usual black belt.

He caressed the little one's lips with his thumb, evaluating every smallest reaction of him with a half-pout. He still wasn't receptive, so he must have taken the dose a short time earlier.