**Discontinued :(
The year is 1993.
Heroin addict Layne Staley of Seattle rock band Alice In Chains has just had the fear of God put into him following a bandmate's overdose.
When faced with a simple decision, the butterfly effect comes into play...
Well, Courtney liked the ring. The entire rest of the day, she'd freaked out about it. "How did you know I love daisies?!"
It was a sunflower.
What? There's a way to tell.
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***
Jerry takes a long drag from his cigarette, attempting to form an 'o' with the smoke. He's only somewhat successful.
Courtney lies beside him, wearing only a bra and nothing else, her long dark hair sprawled across her pillowcase.
She'd really wanted to thank him for the present- well, Layne's present. It was evident the moment they'd got home and she'd practically climbed him like a tree.
He stares up at the ceiling, thinking to himself how boring Courtney had become. How... predictable. He loved her, of course. She'd been in his life since... about the time Layne had gotten with Demri... so, 1988.
Damn, that's a long time ago.
He shivers as Courtney tugs the covers away from him in her sleep. He suddenly feels the need for some air. Even though it's fucking freezing.
Jerry stands, pulling up his boxers. He's careful to close their bedroom door quietly as he makes his way to the kitchen. Barefoot on the cold tile floor, he shivers again.
He decides to microwave something. Make some coffee. Actually, maybe some tea would be better. Or beer. He opens the fridge door. He puffs air out through his mouth in frustrated disappointment. "Nothin'," he mumbles, closing the door.
Perhaps Courtney hadn't been out shopping in awhile. He makes a mental note to himself to head out to the store in the morning.
He glances at the clock, surprised when he notices it's only 9:50 pm.
That's the only excuse he needs to head out. Who cares about jet lag, anyway?
He finds his pants on the living room floor. He smirks when he remembers the epic blow job Courtney had given him. Maybe she's not as boring as he'd determined earlier. He pulls them on. He finds his shirt slung over a chair, and pulls that on, too. He steps into his boots and puts on his jacket. Silently, he leaves the apartment.
Maybe Mike wants to hang out (Inez, of course; currently not on the best of terms with Starr).
***
Mike Inez's door opens tentatively, swinging open wide once Jerry reveals himself as its knocker.
"Oh... hey, Jer," Mike grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What's up?"
"Nothing... this a bad time?" Jerry asks, tilting his head to the side.
