no, no, i insist

The music, a trippy synth-pop bop, pulsates between his ears as he shrugs his laptop bag further up his shoulder. People stumble past him, drunkenly catcalling as their eyes blur in and out of focus. He's way too sober for this.

He needed some time to himself. Not because he needed to get away from the puppy who was determined to destory every precious electronic cord he had or a roommate who continuously neglected the pile of beer can accumulating under their coffee table, but because he couldn't even hear himself think anymore. It was like he'd lost his voice as soon as there was something else to care about.

He has to decide between getting drunk or buying a pack of cigarettes, as his paycheck would only go through in the wee hours of the morning, when he hopes that he'll be sound asleep in his bed. Considering that he's imagining himself passing out from a stupor instead of naturally falling asleep, he figures that he's already made the decision.

His heart gives a familiar lurch as he tugs open the door to the bar, even though he's done this hundreds of times before. It would be cliche to say that something felt different this time, but it does.

He pulls his bag up over his shoulder as he siddles down to the nearest bar stool, defeated eyes giving a cursory glance over the patrons for any familiar faces. He spots a few that he recognizes from work and quickly glances away, eyes drawn to the uninteresting sports bouts happening on the numerous televisions.

"What can I getcha?"

Leo glances down and feels a shy smile unconsciously tug at the corner of his mouth, which is returned by the cheeky redhead that had served him a week ago.

"Ahhh, what have you got on draft?"

The man smiles wider, clearly amused. "I guess that depends on what you're looking for."

Leo's tongue rolls into his cheek, pressing the supple flesh out. "I prefer blondes and lighter ales, but I think I'm in the mood ofr a heiferweisen." 

"Sounds like I've got the thing for you." The redhead begins pouring up a beer in a glass he's pulled from the cooler below the bar. 

"I'm sure you do." Leo inwardly cringes. Is that too far? Too bold? Is he being too cheeky?

They share a long look as the beer continues to pour. Neither says anything until the tap gives a sudden pop, spraying the bartender with a frothy foam. 

"Aw, man, I'm sorry. I don't think I even have a backup keg of this. This one's on the house." He passes the half-beer across the bar and, at the promise of free beer, Leo's hand instinctively reaches over and they brush hands for a moment. Both shiver as they pull back and Leo smiles shyly again. "Wanna look over the beer list while I change this keg?" He's already stepping out from behind the bar after he's pushes the worn paper across the sticky bartop. 

Leo smiles and nods, taking a sip. "There's something else I'd rather be looking at."

"...You know, I might need some assistance in the cooler after all."

Leo chugs back the rest of the beer.

warns

He's leaving work. Another hard day of sorting files, making phone calls, and generally attending to bullshit he cares nothing about. It's just a job, a way to get by, a way to pay the bills. He's not even sure that he's managing that last part.

He's lighting a cigarette as he passes the gas station, billowing nine dollar smoke out of the corner of his mouth as he tugs his headphones tighter over his ears. He doesn't have them plugged in, he just wants to look like he's too engrossed to talk to anyone.

He's stomping down the sidewalk, head down as cars whiz past him. He wonders if he should get a different job. He heard somewhere 'love what you do and you'll never work a day in your life', which really just sounds like a phrase that corporate bosses tell their employees to keep them complacent.

But there's value in it, right? If you trully love and enjoy what you get paid to do, then you won't feel as miserable, right? You'll be that much more likely to want to wake up and want to go to work, right?

I'm afraid it's not that simple.

Leo freezes in the middle of the sidewalk as the eerily familiar voice fills his head, overwhelming his senses. Someone bumps him from behind and mutters a curse word as they stumble past. Leo doesn't see them. He's too preoccupied at this surreal experience.

Are you...in my head? Am I tripping right now?

You would know if you were tripping, don't you think?

I mean, I guess...But that still doesn't explain how you're...how we're talking right now.

Do you really want an explanation? Or would you rather hear what I have to say?

Leo lets the pause speak for itself.

You must be more careful of the company you keep. Trust no one.

What the fuck are you talking about? 

You'll find out soon enough. 

What? What?

There's silence on the other end.

Where did you go? Can you still hear me?

More silence.

He flicks his cigarette butt into the road, too stressed to even finish it. "Goddess fucking damnit. I hate them so much."

younger

He doesn't even like coffee yet he finds himself in the same coffee shop every other day, carefully approaching the counter with eyes downcast as he hopes that today will be the day.

His music blares through his headphones, a weak attempt to block out the chatter of college students doing whatever it is that students do in a coffee shop. Homework? Studying? Drug dealing?

He's just pulled one of the headphones out of his ear when a pair of eyes scorches him, sears him to the spot. He feels like he can't move. Hot hazel eyes are watching his movements from behind the counter, a dirty blond barista leaning against the espresso machine, casually polishing silverware.

Leo opens his mouth a few times and then shuts it. The barista looks amused, a smirk tugging at his impossibly full lips. Is that..? Goddamnit, that motherfucker even has a scar on his lower lip. Leo's never gotten this close to see it. He's never even gathered up the courage to talk to him.

The barista pulls himself off the machine and leans over the counter, putting a stubbled chin into his hand as he watches Leo, sneaky grin slipping over his face. "See something you like?"

Warmth floods his face and his mouth sets to righteous indignation. He stuffs the headphone back into his ear and turns quickly, storming out the way he just came.

"See ya tomorrow!"

sought out

He knows he shouldn' be drinking. Not now, not ever. It's the only information he's gotten from his birth family: a predisposition for alcoholism. Still, he tips the drink back down his throat and carefully places the glass back on the counter silently.

"Another?"

He looks up at the pretty bartender, who's standing behind the surprisingly large draft taps, peeking his head between a golden IPA and blonde stout.

"Sure, could you put something a little fruity in it?"

"Oh no, was the first one too tart?" The brunette is already grabbing bottles, moving his muscular arms like an octopus as he starts slinging liquids into a shaker.

"No, not at all. I just know what I like." Warmth bubbles in the bottom of Leo's stomach as he looks up with dreary eyes, letting them first rest on the man's exposed neck and then down to his busy hands. He can see a blush creep up the bartender's neck and satisfaction creeps up his own ears, warming them from the inside out.

"Well I've got a lot of options for fruit. What's your favorite type?"

Leo drags a dark hand around the rim of his empty glass, pressing down on the straw. "Peaches, if I'm being honest."

The bartender grins suddenly and the red rushes up to fill his full cheeks, seeping up into his strawberry blonde hairline.

"I think I can do that."

caked up

The television blares two parties fighting over petty claims. The judge in the courtroom doesn't seem to want to side with either of them but the decision must be made. Someone has to pay up.

The doorbell rings and it takes a moment for Leo to drag himself from the couch. Gloom waits on his shoulders, a cynical parrot that won't stop screeching insults to his character. He wishes it would go away.

Bloodshot eyes barely glance through the peephole as he swings the door open. He isn't worried about intruders. He isn't worried about visitors. He just wants to get back to his show.

There's a package on the doorstep. There are holes poked on the sides, with a wide note that reads "LIVE ANIMAL" on the side. Leo frowns slightly and crouches down, squinting at where the return address should be. It simply reads 'The Endless' in neat, block letters.

Leo looks around, as if suddenly remembering that someone had to put the box on his doorstep. Maybe he can convince them to take it back - he most certainly did not order a live animal.

There's a sensation in his gut that says to leave the box, close the door, and pretend he never saw it. He knows this is fear attempting to rear it's big, ugly head and bring him crashing back into reality. Settle, compromise, be a follower.

"Nah, fuck that." He mutters under his breath as he picks up the box and carries it inside, placing it in the middle of the living room. He stares at it for a moment longer, watching as its contents pokes its nose through one of the holes.

He struggles to open the box for a few minutes, not sure where the top is and how it opens. He wants to use a knife but he's terrified he might injure whatever's inside. He knows who the sender is but he's never receieved a package from them before.

Just as he's trying to think of when he even gave the entity his address, the top of the box pops off and a spotted puppy is wagging its tail in a pool of blankets, surrounded by tiny chew toys.

Wet spots well at the corner of his eyes as the little puppy licks his nose, trying to chew with its itty bitty baby teeth. He picks up the warm package and presses kisses to the top of its head as the puppy tries to lick and chew at his face.

Leo's laughing, spinning around the room as he dances with the little babe. Maybe things will be okay. Maybe this won't be so bad. Maybe he'll actually be able to bounce back from this.

He stops spinning and the puppy vomits on his shoulder.

crush

He's shivering. Whether it's because of the giant splatter on the windshield leaking cool air into the rapidly cooling down heat of the honda accord or because of the jitters running up and down his spine from hitting something after years of driving with absolutely no history of a wreck, he isn't sure.

But even in the moment of processing what's just happened, he's reaching over to the passenger seat to grab at Eli, searching for a pulse, for movement, for anything. He gives up and chooses, instead, to croak:

"Are you okay? Oh goddess, please be okay."

He can hear his own breathing in the silence of the crash. The loud electronic music has petered out along with the boyish laughter that had just occupied the air. Leo is grasping at the plaid shirt Eli liked to wear whenever they had a date. He probably though Leo didn't notice but, well, he did.

"Please don't leave me, no, not now, not now!"

If it had been any earlier in the day, Leo would have been much more concerned about calling the police, even if he still didn't fully trust them. Add in the crushed cans slowly piling up in the floor of the backseat and you didn't have a great combination for "police report".

"You gotta get up, baby, I can't do this without you..."

His voice is pleading, warning the unconscious Eli that he didn't have a choice in the matter: he simply needed to get up. There was no question.

"Goddess damnit, I just got you, please don't let me lose you now..."

bereft

we tiptoe barefoot across naked land
simmering, slowlike, seething beneath sand
tastefully tempted by timid trepedations
hollowly holding back from hectic hallucinations

cause maybe it's you, but maybe it's me
but i can't seem to forget the anxious fee
cautiously providing just a little piece
never giving the whole package, only signing a lease

but fever always start fair, flighty, just, abrupt
until we're left bare, empty, broken, corrupt
breathing, no panting, for some clean air
exhale the green smoke, but choking is rare

finally feeling full, completely satisfied
we pretend we're done, and now is time to fly
but always remembering that it's just geography
and that even though we're swept up in the choreography

the world will show no leniancy, it is cold - complete
but if you don't try to change it it will have no chance to replete