Dystopia
Another one for the ar_drabbles AU challenge. I'm not going to try to keep up with sln1, but if I post this, maybe she'll post her next idea.
He wasn't sure why he stayed. All they did was fight.
He should've been home hours ago. Laura'd be jonesing and he had the cash. It was dangerous to let her have money; she was an easy touch for street-corner preachers and children with sad faces.
But he'd found a half-full bottle of rotgut outside a bar and a willing partner when he stopped by Saul's to pick up a dime bag. When Ellen came he had to choose between watching them get it on or going home. He wasn't sure which was worse.
Bill's apartment wasn't much, but it used to be his home. He'd let Laura move in after her greasy pimp dumped her on the streets because her 'hot for teacher' look wasn't selling. She was scrawny, doped up, and sick as a dog, but her look sure worked for him. He'd never asked her to earn her keep, never wanted her to do anything but laugh, maybe have dinner waiting when he came home. She never laughed anymore, always waited in ambush, ready to berate him for so much as picking up a glass. She never said a word about the pills and the weed except to ask for her share.
He thought about going to the shelter, but then remembered how it would be when the euphoria hit her, how she'd kiss him and wrap her legs around him, how he'd feel warm for the first time all day. They'd talk into the night and he'd tell her everything -- poetry, philosophy, old hurts and scores yet to be settled. She'd understand him. She was the only one who ever did.
He turned for home. She kept him warm at night, and he did love her. But one day, he knew, she'd break his heart.
He wasn't sure why he stayed. All they did was fight.
He should've been home hours ago. Laura'd be jonesing and he had the cash. It was dangerous to let her have money; she was an easy touch for street-corner preachers and children with sad faces.
But he'd found a half-full bottle of rotgut outside a bar and a willing partner when he stopped by Saul's to pick up a dime bag. When Ellen came he had to choose between watching them get it on or going home. He wasn't sure which was worse.
Bill's apartment wasn't much, but it used to be his home. He'd let Laura move in after her greasy pimp dumped her on the streets because her 'hot for teacher' look wasn't selling. She was scrawny, doped up, and sick as a dog, but her look sure worked for him. He'd never asked her to earn her keep, never wanted her to do anything but laugh, maybe have dinner waiting when he came home. She never laughed anymore, always waited in ambush, ready to berate him for so much as picking up a glass. She never said a word about the pills and the weed except to ask for her share.
He thought about going to the shelter, but then remembered how it would be when the euphoria hit her, how she'd kiss him and wrap her legs around him, how he'd feel warm for the first time all day. They'd talk into the night and he'd tell her everything -- poetry, philosophy, old hurts and scores yet to be settled. She'd understand him. She was the only one who ever did.
He turned for home. She kept him warm at night, and he did love her. But one day, he knew, she'd break his heart.