Even Now

Chapter 20: Stuck On You - December

Guess I should tell y'all there's a smut warning here...

***

Layne feels a sudden change in pressure when the plane begins to land. And in more ways than one.

He feels Jerry grab his hand. Layne turns to look at him, seeing Jerry's wide, nervous eyes. Layne smiles at him reassuringly.

"I can't believe I'm not going to get to see you for three months," Jerry breathes nervously.

Layne puts his free hand on Jerry's arm to let him know that everything's going to be alright. "I know... I..." he starts, wondering whether or not it's safe to kiss Jerry, right here and right now.

He decides not to... it's too risky in the daylight.

Damn... I should've kissed him earlier, more often...

Layne leans back in his chair. "I'm gonna fuckin' miss you like crazy," he says to Jerry, as if he's thinking out loud.

Layne turns to look at Jerry, seeing that his lips are pressed into a thin line while his eyes are closed, eyebrows lowered in painful uncertainty. Jerry props his head up with an elf loses fist, his elbow leaning on the windowsill.

Layne looks away, reluctantly letting go of Jerry's hand as the plane halts on the runway.
He gives him one last look, one that Jerry doesn't see, before he makes his way over to Demri.

***

December, 1993: Seattle, WA, USA

"And how does that make you feel?"

Layne has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the group leader's question. He barely pays any attention to the snivelling woman who answers her, crying about how her morphine addiction was like... some sort of travesty to God, or something.

I'm actually gonna fuckin' shoot myself.

It had been a month since he and Demri had checked themselves into the rehab centre. Demri was getting better every day, while Layne was counting the minutes until he could get the hell out of that place.
In a weird way, it felt like they were taking some sort of warped 'vacation' before the baby stuff started to get real.
Demri wanted to avoid talking about it. Layne didn't try to argue with her.

"Tom?"

He looks up. It seems as though he's been asked to say something in front of the group.

Oh, yeah: Tom was just a pseudonym for him.
If he had a dollar for every time someone had recognized him in rehab, he'd be a billionaire. And that may say more about Layne than it does about the people who recognize him, but that doesn't matter.
The point is that he hated being recognized, because at first, it would be about the music. Then it was about how they had expected him to be there, being a junkie and what-have-you.

Layne looks around the room, and then back at the thin blonde with horn-rimmed glasses who was leading the NA meeting.

He leans back in his chair, sprawling his legs out in front of him so that his feet are out-turned. "Sorry, can you... repeat the question?"

"I asked if there was anything you'd like to share with the group," repeats the lady, looking slightly annoyed by his lack of care or attention.

Layne shrugs, shaking his head. "Not today."

"Very well."

The meeting continues without a mentally checked-out Layne, who reluctantly continues to sit there in their little circle.

You promised everyone, especially Demri, that you'd try.
Even though you've been clean for two months...

He looks up for a moment to glance at a nervous kid, who sits across from him in the group.
He's new. And young, probably around 19.
Layne makes a funny face at him, widening his eyes and sticking out his tongue. The kid smiles at him, looking down and then back up for a moment. Layne smiles sincerely at him.