In class today a nurse came in to the class to talk about fentanyl and how its incredibly bad and how you should never do any drugs and always be weary. Meanwhile my mind was just thinking about the comic i reblogged not even 24 hrs before about law doing weed.
Yaletown Park looked more like a rocky desert than anything adjacent to the open hangout it was sold as, especially in the hollow glow of the streetlights. Caught between high-risers and vacant retail space, the few square meters of cobble only offered some trash or needles to pluck from the ground. If the grass patches shooting out here and there were ever kept trim in the first place remained a mystery.
Behind a strategically chosen planter sat a reserved man, smoking the second pack of the day and stewing in his jaded mood, still waiting for whoever wanted to stop by. All this was normal for Morris by now.
The evening had started promising, with frat boys strolling along the sidewalk and a few girls in tow; a view that was starting to become more and more frequent. He smiled joylessly, remembering how he met Amber on a night like this.
More than a year must've passed since then, he figured, trying to cling onto thoughts that wouldn't shock him with memories of someone he didn't have to think about anymore. At least when he was chased around enough.
"You're gonna sit there until I tell you otherwise!"
Goddamn. Not that it was easy for Belanger either, patrolling the streets to prospect the usual scum. No regret laid in avoiding each other, but since Morris was dependent on any signal to engage with the more casual clientele, he was stuck in place.
That's what I get for my not so tight scheduling.
As a fixer caught at the bottom of the food chain, and honest to god no agency or willingness to change his position, it was better to keep his mouth shut and head down. But with skin still in the game, did he have another option? For all he cared, they could make him do their laundry and scrub all crack houses of the state squeaky-clean. Anything else than ending up in Dutch's office with that thing-
Another thought he quickly shoved aside, another problem to ignore till it blew up.
Except a lone hobo who threw up way too close to his shoes, nothing ripped Morris out of the daydreaming that kept his last sliver of sanity alive. The risk of being arrested on the spot or stabbed to death by someone who needed cash even more than him aside, the prize of it all was just...surviving.
"One day you wake up, and your whole life is spent in what?" Amber's life lesson was now sober reality, spot-on to the last detail.
Hearing her voice again used to pierce through his gut and leave him wrecked with self-hatred, although these feelings had died down in the time they spent apart. Not that he didn't try to distract himself from the distraction, oh no, he had several chances to drown out boiling memories of past love during the spring months, but this year it was different. Nobody was waiting at home. Morris couldn't let go, not this time, not since her...since him-
If Belanger didn't call right now, he would find a good use for all those narcotics in his pocket.
A break from it all, that's what he needed to work himself to the bone for.
Wrapping his leather jacket closer around his body, Morris wished to disappear into it completely. Even the colorful August couldn't hide that it had gotten colder in the last days of an already far too chilly summer.
Without any warning, his peaceful solitude was interrupted again.
A figure stumbled blindly along the sidewalk. Morris' gaze followed them closely, how disoriented feet pushed each other forward and finally letting them flop down onto a bench near the park's exit.
Drunk or high, certainly. Care for another round? 10 bucks for a flat of fentanyl - dark green, quite popular at the moment.
Still, Belanger didn't give him the go-ahead yet. Maybe he should make today's slow business hum: be proactive, independent. Write it on a resume, why not.
His stiff knee gave an audible crack as it was forced to stand straight, lazily stretching the sore muscles in his back and taking the first few steps towards his potential customer, Morris started to become flustered.
Could be a setup, for all he knew. Something was off.
The soon-to-be buyer was wrapped up in shadows, sitting quietly by themself and only rarely mumbling at the stones below their feet.
He approached until their shoes nearly touched, time to play offense: "You good?"
Nothing. Awkward, he wasn't used to making the first move like this.
Shoving at the motionless shoulders only made their head flop forward, and a forced sigh quickly followed it. First week on campus, probably, lost their friends and self-control only to aimlessly walk around the neighborhood.
"You definitely had enough fun for today, buddy," Morris scoffed, ready to turn around.
Suddenly, he faltered. They had to rethink Belanger's strategy if he ought to stay here, passed-out freshmen were only good for catching unwanted attention and as long as Dutch didn't want to see his ass in jail, any cops on patrol should be avoided. Not that they lost sleep about the mass of catatonic bodies scattered throughout the city streets, just when they were seen in the wrong parts of town - the pleasant ones.
"Move," so he demanded, quickly lifting up their chin, nestled against the stiff collar of their windbreaker, with his fist. "You're gonna get me in trouble."
The hot breath against Morris' hand sent shivers up his spine. After nights like these, he felt mostly frozen numb, but the air coming out in labored and shallow puffs let his fingers tingle with newfound life.
Suddenly, the howl of an ambulance cut through the silence. Not for them, of course, it was surely headed east. As it took a turn and rushed past the unusual couple, Morris caught a quick glimpse of his vis-à-vis.
For less than a heartbeat, his body froze.
His mouth began to open and close like a fish on land, unable to produce a single word, whilst the prickle spread from his back through every inch of his body. A wonderful illusion bloomed under the blue-red-blue-red flicker and as quickly as it had reached both, it left them alone in the nightly glow of streetlights.
Morris didn't hear himself gasp, the rush of blood in his ears was too deafening. Now dead focused on the freckle-sprinkled skin, tousled dark hair and soft lashes, an inward pull kept him from blinking: the fear that he would be ripped out of his trance.
No dream, no wishful thinking. Morris would recognize this face anywhere.
favorite midmorning snack before afternoon errands is 90 grams of pure fentanyl and whenever im in the proximity of a cop the fentanyl that gushes through my near collapsing veins well basically if i were to get a paper cut on a reciept at the filling stations and a pig was behind meh ~ …..let’s such say i hope they have a epipen ! Y’all know the severity of fentanyl allergies and the rate at which it occurs among cops. crazy bro rest in peepee haha