@smithsasha
It was 26, not 10 minutes later, that he pulled up at her place, plastic takeout bag in hand. It contained a dress, a pair of socks, and some makeup. If he was smarter, he would probably leave half of it home to have another empty excuse to see her, but he wasn’t, so he’d brought all of it. He drove quick enough, the extra minutes squeezed in spent washing up, adding body sprays, attempting to look more presentable than he was, like the dark hollows under his eyes weren’t showing almost two weeks of sleepless nights. Tired as he may have appeared, but happy to see her at any rate, an expression he couldn’t control as soon as she opened the door. “Hey.” His lips curling into a smile to see her, no matter her state. He didn’t know what they were anymore, but that was his Sasha. “Sorry. The traffic was killer.” A joke. There was hardly ever traffic in Niles.
After putting the phone down Sasha stayed in the kitchen, feeling every minute of the ten he promised and all the rest that followed that lasted twice as long. Thinking of the percs with her name on them in the bedroom, considering her options before deciding otherwise. She wanted to be lucid when she saw him again, even if it made her stomach feel like there were rocks in it. When that knock on the door came Sasha felt the blood drain from her face, rushing to open it. He’d never looked taller, or maybe she’d never felt smaller. That joke hurt, made the urge to hug him unbearable. Sasha returned the smile and stepped aside. “You came in through Chicago?” Hilarious. Shutting the door behind him, her eyes lifted to his face, taking in everything there. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. They beat him up, he had to go deal in Chicago. And there was nothing she could do about any of this. “You had any coffee? Want some?” Hoping with everything in her that he wouldn’t run away immediately to go throw himself in the vat of shit Cletus expected him to.