badbobbybarnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
badbobbybarnes) wrote2008-04-20 05:12 pm
badbobbybarnes) wrote2008-04-20 05:12 pm
Entry tags:
Five and One
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mind_the_muse April prompt: Five people who have died and one who's still alive.]
When he was heavily into the drug scene, there were five guys that Bobby did most of his drugs with. They all got high together and fucked. Sometimes, they fucked other people, sometimes each other. It never really mattered. All that mattered was the high and the pleasure. They could have been fucking watermelons for all any of them cared.
The first one of them to die was Damien. He got on the wrong side of a dealer just after Bobby met Simon. They found his body in a dumpster in Harlem. His death was called an overdose. The cops didn't ever bother to ask how he got in the dumpster. But Bobby and his friends knew.
Tim was next. He actually did overdose. Damien had been his boyfriend and when he died, Tim got into heroin to take the pain away. A hot shot did him in. It was Bobby who found him, dead on his living room couch. No need for the cops to investigate that one.
A year went by before Jerry passed away. An undiagnosed heart condition, natural causes. The X sure helped, though. He just used up the life he'd been given. That funeral was hard for Bobby, Simon had refused to come because he'd never liked Jerry. Bobby never felt like he could grieve Jerry correctly. That was really the beginning of the end of that relationship, although neither of them would ever admit it.
Jason committed suicide. The note he left was vague but it was definitely his handwriting. The cops thought it was a homicide for all of twenty minutes. Then they just chalked it up to another ex-junkie queer who couldn't handle being sober. Bobby had to admit that it was probably the truth.
Pete's death hit Bobby the hardest. He and Pete had been the last of their group, and they'd been keeping each other on the wagon. Simon was gone, off fucking some younger boy, and Pete was the only man who was constant in Bobby's life. They'd gone out and had a couple of beers, then gone their separate ways. The phone had woken Bobby the next morning. It was the police. Pete had been mugged on the way home, his body found too late to save him, could Bobby come down and identify the body.
There had been six of them. Now the only one still alive was Bobby. He was off the drugs now, although the itch still hit him when he was stressed. Sometimes, all it took to make it go away was to take out a picture of them all together. Sometimes, that only made the itch worse.
[Bobby Barnes - OC - 445 words]
mind_the_muse April prompt: Five people who have died and one who's still alive.]When he was heavily into the drug scene, there were five guys that Bobby did most of his drugs with. They all got high together and fucked. Sometimes, they fucked other people, sometimes each other. It never really mattered. All that mattered was the high and the pleasure. They could have been fucking watermelons for all any of them cared.
The first one of them to die was Damien. He got on the wrong side of a dealer just after Bobby met Simon. They found his body in a dumpster in Harlem. His death was called an overdose. The cops didn't ever bother to ask how he got in the dumpster. But Bobby and his friends knew.
Tim was next. He actually did overdose. Damien had been his boyfriend and when he died, Tim got into heroin to take the pain away. A hot shot did him in. It was Bobby who found him, dead on his living room couch. No need for the cops to investigate that one.
A year went by before Jerry passed away. An undiagnosed heart condition, natural causes. The X sure helped, though. He just used up the life he'd been given. That funeral was hard for Bobby, Simon had refused to come because he'd never liked Jerry. Bobby never felt like he could grieve Jerry correctly. That was really the beginning of the end of that relationship, although neither of them would ever admit it.
Jason committed suicide. The note he left was vague but it was definitely his handwriting. The cops thought it was a homicide for all of twenty minutes. Then they just chalked it up to another ex-junkie queer who couldn't handle being sober. Bobby had to admit that it was probably the truth.
Pete's death hit Bobby the hardest. He and Pete had been the last of their group, and they'd been keeping each other on the wagon. Simon was gone, off fucking some younger boy, and Pete was the only man who was constant in Bobby's life. They'd gone out and had a couple of beers, then gone their separate ways. The phone had woken Bobby the next morning. It was the police. Pete had been mugged on the way home, his body found too late to save him, could Bobby come down and identify the body.
There had been six of them. Now the only one still alive was Bobby. He was off the drugs now, although the itch still hit him when he was stressed. Sometimes, all it took to make it go away was to take out a picture of them all together. Sometimes, that only made the itch worse.
[Bobby Barnes - OC - 445 words]