[ but he isn't sure he needs to be putting anything in his stomach. isn't sure that there is anything that will wash away the same and guilt that rest just beneath the surface of the drug. the ghb amplifies everything, makes all these feelings vivid and bright, bringing with them memories and pains like ghosts, hiding patiently in the corners until dark falls.
so he'll take ibuprofen. he'll take anything hawk offers him because it will keep him at his side a moment longer, chase away the whispers and the ghastly fingers of the past. it will keep his eyes open and stave off the dreams that all but wracked him before he stumbled his way in here. stupid that he's so desperately touch-starved, that he's so incredibly lonely, that sitting in the personal office of his professor who turned him down some time ago feels as close to something like connection as he's had in a long time.
he'll see the school counselor, but he can't tell him the truth about anything. he can't face anyone and tell them what it is he has to do every day just to hope he can have enough to make it by. to eat, to buy books, to attend class. he can't tell him about the way that, when the drug wears off, he'll go to the chapel and pray for hours to remove the feeling of hawkins fuller's fingertips in his hair, on his cheek, his jaw, his neck.
his eyes burn, suddenly, when he was sure they would be barren and dry.
you're safe now.
only within these four walls. only so long as his phone is dead somewhere. only so long as he's able to pay for schooling and stay a little while longer. he closes his eyes a moment longer, as professor fuller's fingers graze over that little mark on his neck. his stomach twists sickly and his breath shudders.
you're even prettier in person - the sweaty man's voice against his neck, the brush of stubble, the sharp, sudden nip of teeth. but there are fingertips laying little pricks of fire there instead, warming the little, sore area. he can't help but look up, tilt his head into the touch faintly, seek it out even as the blown-out, glassy brown of his eyes tilts upward to meet professor fuller's eyes.
and then the command.
he swallows hard, and there's no doubt that hawk won't feel the heavy bob of his adam's apple. ]
I understand, sir.
[ quiet, sheepish, lacking all the confidence that skippy on the other side of the screen would have had, and yet the gravity that falls with it seems bigger, somehow.
this will never happen to you again.
a mantra - he's sure he'll repeat it over and over and over.
and then, sounded defeated as he turns in the chair, letting his feet fall to the fine rug of the office: ]
I can't walk. M'shaking too bad.
[ nevermind the soft, quiet sniffle. no tears fall, and it takes a deep, deep breath in to even steady his own breathing. his hands shake, his knees tremble, his heart rattles in his chest -
no one will touch you like this, you understand? ]
I, um... I don't have - the fare, I mean.
[ it's a woozy, slurring attempt at some kind of levity. he wouldn't have the money to pay hawk for the ride back to his bed, nor would he have anything like that for the ride home to the dorms. ]
no subject
[ but he isn't sure he needs to be putting anything in his stomach. isn't sure that there is anything that will wash away the same and guilt that rest just beneath the surface of the drug. the ghb amplifies everything, makes all these feelings vivid and bright, bringing with them memories and pains like ghosts, hiding patiently in the corners until dark falls.
so he'll take ibuprofen. he'll take anything hawk offers him because it will keep him at his side a moment longer, chase away the whispers and the ghastly fingers of the past. it will keep his eyes open and stave off the dreams that all but wracked him before he stumbled his way in here. stupid that he's so desperately touch-starved, that he's so incredibly lonely, that sitting in the personal office of his professor who turned him down some time ago feels as close to something like connection as he's had in a long time.
he'll see the school counselor, but he can't tell him the truth about anything. he can't face anyone and tell them what it is he has to do every day just to hope he can have enough to make it by. to eat, to buy books, to attend class. he can't tell him about the way that, when the drug wears off, he'll go to the chapel and pray for hours to remove the feeling of hawkins fuller's fingertips in his hair, on his cheek, his jaw, his neck.
his eyes burn, suddenly, when he was sure they would be barren and dry.
you're safe now.
only within these four walls. only so long as his phone is dead somewhere. only so long as he's able to pay for schooling and stay a little while longer. he closes his eyes a moment longer, as professor fuller's fingers graze over that little mark on his neck. his stomach twists sickly and his breath shudders.
you're even prettier in person - the sweaty man's voice against his neck, the brush of stubble, the sharp, sudden nip of teeth. but there are fingertips laying little pricks of fire there instead, warming the little, sore area. he can't help but look up, tilt his head into the touch faintly, seek it out even as the blown-out, glassy brown of his eyes tilts upward to meet professor fuller's eyes.
and then the command.
he swallows hard, and there's no doubt that hawk won't feel the heavy bob of his adam's apple. ]
I understand, sir.
[ quiet, sheepish, lacking all the confidence that skippy on the other side of the screen would have had, and yet the gravity that falls with it seems bigger, somehow.
this will never happen to you again.
a mantra - he's sure he'll repeat it over and over and over.
and then, sounded defeated as he turns in the chair, letting his feet fall to the fine rug of the office: ]
I can't walk. M'shaking too bad.
[ nevermind the soft, quiet sniffle. no tears fall, and it takes a deep, deep breath in to even steady his own breathing. his hands shake, his knees tremble, his heart rattles in his chest -
no one will touch you like this, you understand? ]
I, um... I don't have - the fare, I mean.
[ it's a woozy, slurring attempt at some kind of levity. he wouldn't have the money to pay hawk for the ride back to his bed, nor would he have anything like that for the ride home to the dorms. ]