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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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@juliivn-blog
snap → open
dashcs:
DASHA: wow. i wasn’t talking that old but thank u for your immortality DASHA: teach me your ways
JULIAN: You’re welcome, the pleasure of my immortality is mine entirely JULIAN: You know I absolutely would if I thought it was something that could be taught JULIAN: You have to let your soul die and use your body as a walking shell
text: open
alec: i don't know any 70 year old hippies who listen to the struts but go off i guess
alec: nah, i've got plenty of whiskey
julian: Only 70 year old hippies go on week long rock n roll inspired benders. The band is irrelevant
julian: That was decidedly not an offer to sell you alcohol. Considering we live in post prohibition America I wouldn't make much money in that particular black market trade
wydaugust:
the air is thick upon the first step julian takes into august’s apartment. with the impeding feeling in his stomach that there was something horribly wrong, it takes a lot in him not to bombard the male with questions. if it wasn’t for the text making sure his roommates were out wasn’t, he probably would have just figured julian was coming over for any other normal night to hang out. but of course, julian had to heighten the suspenseful reasoning behind his request. once his eyes meet julian’s sunken darken circles, he knows it can’t be any good. gus knows enough to understand that julian hasn’t exactly come from a past of sunshine and rainbows. his brows furrow as he settles down next to him on the couch. “you look.. terrible..” usually those words are teasing and hold no real substance behind them, a joke quick to follow, but not tonight. he shifts some, shaking his head a bit. “have you gotten any sleep??” and as the other begins it’s quite obvious that the answer is no, he probably hasn’t gotten any sleep at all. definitely not with this having something to do with kit. “you gotta give me a little more context, julian. what did jax say to you??” he begins to shake his head, leaning forward so his elbows press to his knees.“no, come on julian. i know what a shit fiancé looks like. hell, i’ve been that shit fiancé –” august’s mouth closes and his gaze falls a moment before it meets julian’s again, his voice is softer now. he knows just how much julian has put into this relationship. knows that he puts kit’s happiness over anything else. how julian could be a piece of shit is beyond august. “you’re not a shit fiancé.” a soft sigh escapes his lips and he reaches up to run his fingers through his mop of hair. “i thought things have been really good with him since you proposed?? seriously, i thought you said he was over the moon.”
julian gives a short, derisive laugh at gus’s observation that carries within it no suggestion of real amusement. appropriate, considering he understands gus is not trying to be funny. he’s aware of what he looks like and there’s a bitter satisfaction in knowing his appearance is congruent with the way he’s feeling. he doesn’t even bother responding to the question; a flat look out of sunken eyes is answer enough on its own. “he is over the moon,” julian says sullenly once gus has--in true gus fashion--assured him with heartened conviction that he’s wrong about himself. it’s such a tempting thing to believe when it comes from someone for whom julian feels so much respect, but he’s already passed the point of willful self-delusion. “and things have been really good between us. it’s not that. it’s...everything else.” another huff of cynical laughter and julian digs his cigarette pack out of his jeans, not to take anything out of it but rather to have something in his hands--something with which to fidget, somewhere to rest his gaze because looking at gus while he talks about this is too difficult. “believe me, dude, whatever kinda fucked up fiancé you thought you were has got nothing on me. jax, he...” julian shakes his head, fingers tearing along the paper seam of the pack’s folding top. “he was talking shit about how i leave kit alone all the time while he’s high. and that’s not even the fucking point, y’know? i’m just doing my fucking job, i can’t help being out all day. it’s not like he and i haven’t gotten in fights because i don’t want him getting high while i’m not there.” with a soft ripping sound he separates the top from the pack altogether and flicks it onto the coffee table. “the point is i got him doing the drugs in the first place. and he doesn’t even--” he breaks off abruptly with a shake of his head, as if stalling will make the words any less horrible when he finally says them. “he doesn’t even know he’s addicted, gus. i mean, jesus, do you know how fucked up that is? he’s twenty years old and he doesn’t realize he’s addicted to heroin. because of me. because i gave it to him even after...” but recalling the death of his ex-boyfriend is too much--it’s something he’s never told anyone other than one friend he’d left back in los angeles and he has no plans to start recounting it now. “even after all the shit i’ve been through with it. and you’re telling me that’s not a shit fiancé?”
text: open
alec: you ever listen to the struts and feel like going on a week long rock n' roll inspired bender?
alec: cos' i'm feelin the need to disappear for a bit and just get completely shitfaced.
julian: I'm not a 70 year old hippie so no
julian: But if you need supplies for yours I can help with that
snap → open
DASHA: does it ever occur to you how old you’re getting DASHA: and you find yourself crying over a tub of ice cream
JULIAN: Oh I don’t plan on dying ever so...... JULIAN: No that doesn’t happen to me
text | gala + julian
gala: listen
gala: does this health cleanse include drinking ur own piss or smth wtf
julian: 👂🏻
julian: Do I need to be concerned that this is the first place your mind went?
julian: It includes smoking so much weed that my body absorbs every possible nutrient it requires from that alone
julian: Satisfied? I highly recommend it
@wydaugust
there are a fairly decent number of people julian’s met in baltimore he’s learned to trust, but none so much as gus. the dude is solid and while julian certainly hasn’t told him everything about his past--far from it--he’s confided in him more than he would have believed of himself prior to their meeting. and now, with anyone else julian might have talked to a thousand miles away back in california, it’s gus he thinks of first when the weight of everything going on lately finally becomes too much. he needs to talk to someone, much as he loathes the thought. after checking with gus to make sure his roommates weren’t home he’d headed up to the seventh floor with several joints tucked into his pack of cigarettes like the equivalent of a child’s safety blanket. “thanks for having me over,” he says where he’s hunched over on the living room couch, dark circles under his eyes and fingers fidgeting restlessly with a loose thread on his worn-out jeans. “i’ve got a...i’ve got some shit going on. with kit.” he closes his eyes. shakes his head. “not with kit,” he amends quietly, “it’s not his fault.” swallowing hard past a lump in his throat, he leans back into the couch and passes a weary hand across his face. “i’m a shit boyfriend, aren’t i?” he turns to face gus, jaw clenched tight. “fiancé. i’m a shit fiancé. jax called me out and he was fucking right, wasn’t he? tell me. tell me i’m a piece of shit for what i’ve done to kit.”
@kitlcuis
it seems impossible to believe that his supply is dwindled down to almost nothing considering the amount of product julian had just last week picked up from his supplier. the marijuana might have been one thing--he and kit don’t exactly use it sparingly and he’s been known to roll more than one blunt for guests without asking for compensation--but it’s the single eight-ball of coke and maybe two hundred bucks worth of heroin left in his bag that, frankly, scares the living shit out of him. he’d been meant to sell it--all of it--to start making up for the money julian had spent on kit’s engagement ring. thinking back on it now, he can recall only a few instances the past week that he’d sold anything more than a couple grams at a time, which of course had felt like a lot when he’s running around the city for hours, but they don’t add up the way they need to. not when he has bills to pay and a tiny, fragile fiancé to feed. of course, they would have added up in the long run had three-quarters of it not gone into their bodies instead of his customers’ hands. some part of him is still trying to convince himself he misplaced something, that somewhere in the apartment is the rest of his supply and he’d merely forgotten where he put it. and that’s not the only problem: that dark, insatiable need for a fix is gnawing at julian’s brain through the fog of panic. “did you see me put my stash somewhere other than my bag?” he asks kit without looking at him, shaky hands fumbling with a pile of clothing as though he may accidentally have put the drugs in with the laundry. “this is a fucking joke, i picked up a kilo last friday. it can’t be gone.”
sitting down at the bar, oliver nursed his beer, as he always did, slowly. his day at the shop was typical, but the past week had worn him down. he truly was just tired, but he always had one beer at the bar before making his way home. normally he had just one, and he would drink it alone, but today someone sat down next to oliver. with a neutral expression, he turned to his new guest. “don’t you live in my building?”
he really shouldn’t be spending money on whiskey, let alone at a bar, but he needs alcohol in his system and julian can’t face going home right now. he’s run dry of product to sell thanks to his worsening habits and walking into that apartment where he knows he’ll find kit bundled up in several layers of clothing just trying to keep warm will induce more guilt than he’s prepared to deal with at the moment. it’s wildly, abhorrently selfish, but then, he supposes he’s really quite a selfish person in the grand scheme of things. he only half-turns his head at being addressed, eyeing the man who’d spoken to him with a flat expression. “i dunno, do i?” he deadpans, leaning back in the barstool and finally settling his gaze on the vaguely familiar face. “if this is your unsubtle way of looking for a hookup i’m afraid i can’t help you out. gonna have to find your weed-fix elsewhere, sorry, buddy.”
# for kit too
NAME:
kitten
RINGTONE:
lover’s spit by broken social scene
LAST TEXT:
[ text: kitten ]: Baby I’m gonna be home a little later than I thought, is everything good with you?[ text: kitten ]: No later than one, I promise. I’ll pick up a pizza[ text: kitten ]: I love you. Let me know if you want anything else while I’m out
do you feel weird that kit has roped someone else into paying a lot of your bills
“i feel like that’s so far beyond any of your business i almost can’t wrap my head around the question!” ( @kitlcuis )
are you ever worried about kit getting high when you're not around?
“yeah i’m worried about what a wasted opportunity it is to fuck him while we’re stoned.” ( @kitlcuis )
do you think jax had a point? do you feel guilty not being there for kit?
“if jax had known what the fuck he was talking about then yeah, i would’ve gotten his point. how much more there for kit do i need to be exactly? he’s not a fucking ten-year-old whose hand i need to hold crossing the street, i really don’t understand where this bullshit is coming from. he’s got a roof over his head, he’s got enough money to buy food when he’s hungry, and as of just recently he’s also got a big shiny purple diamond on his ring finger that matches his hair. i have a job that requires me to be out most of the day and he understands that. thankfully he’s the only one who needs to understand it and anyone else with concerns can really and truly from the bottom of my heart eat my ass.” ( ( @jaxbyers, @kitlcuis )
what would you have done if the fight with jax turned physical?
“get my ass beat, i dunno. not exactly the physical fight type all things considered. least it would’ve made him look like a real asshole, am i right?” ( @jaxbyers, @kitlcuis )
if you could blow big money on any one object, what would it be?
“i did blow big money buying kit’s engagement ring and i literally cannot think of anything else i would spend that much on again in the foreseeable future.” ( @kitlcuis )
if you could go back in time and change any one thing in your life, what would it be?
“probably go back a couple years and buy a better jeep that wouldn’t have crapped on us when we were two and a half thousand miles from home. that was annoying.”
laundry wasn’t something that cory could complain about. back in new york, she hadn’t had a laundry room in her apartment building at all, so lugging her hamper to an elevator and then to the laundry room was nothing compared to taking bags of dirty clothes on a 10-block walk or a very short subway ride. hellish either way.
she was still paranoid about her clothes getting stolen, though, so she was camped out with her back against the dryer she was using, paging through a notebook on her lap as someone walked into the room. there was a long beat of silence before she offered a half-smile and a tiny wave, “ great day for chores, huh ?? “
the laundry facility isn’t a big one and it’s impossible not to notice when there’s somebody else in there, but julian has never been a talker nor anything close to a social butterfly so ignoring another presence is virtually habit at this point. it’s only once he’s dropped his garbage bag filled with laundry that he looks over and sees a blonde girl waving to him with a smile too friendly to truly irritate him. “nope,” he says, not unpleasantly, and returns her smile with a more ironic one of his own. “it’s a great day for not being stuck in the basement of this building doing laundry.” a look of amusement crosses his face and he nods toward the machine she’s using to support her weight. “you just like it down here or you afraid someone’s gonna nick all your shit?”
