Posts by trashman

Should I post my character first?

Okayyy I'll have him posted soon

(I guess when Jasper gets kicked out and comes to Michael for help?)

Well, that was not the way that Jasper had wanted this to go. All he did was ask for a little more money, and he was kicked out of his own house, with nothing to his name but a backpack and a suitcase filled with a few belongings. His parents knew what he was doing, and they knew that he was stealing money from to get what he needed. Jasper was eighteen, he was an adult, they weren't required to deal with them anymore, so they'd decided that enough was enough.

Jasper, of course, was on his way to Michael's house. That man had been his best friend for longer than he could even remember, and he loved him with his whole heart. They did everything together, and he trusted him with most anything he had to tell him. Most anything. He hadn't told him about all the drugs he'd been doing, because he simply didn't want to worry him, but he figured that he'd either quit or he'd find out eventually.

Upon arriving at Michael's house, Jasper noticed that there had been tears falling and dripping down his cheeks for at least a few minutes now. Weird, he didn't feel them at all. A hand reached up to wipe them away, hoping and praying that they weren't super red like they always were when he cried when Michael answered the door.

Jasper shook his head and wiped his tired eyes once again. "I...I'm not exactly sure why they kicked me out," he lied, "They just told me that I was eighteen and it was time for me to strike out on my own." It made him feel incredibly bad, but this addiction has made him incredibly good at lying, and he'd mastered the body language indicators. He looked, down, tugging at his sleeves to make sure they wouldn't fall up and reveal any track marks. They were bad, red and purple veins all down his arms, and puncture wounds for days.

Jasper took maybe one bite of his sandwich before haphazardly setting it down somewhere, because eating has made him very sick lately. He placed his suitcase at the foot of the bed and his backpack on the floor, and pulled himself up to sit on the edge. Blinking as he was sort of just grilled with questions, he gave his friend a long sigh. "I'm sorry. I think I've just been sort of depressed lately. I take my meds, they still don't help sometimes. You know how that goes." In fact, he'd been selling his Prozac for depression and anxiety to get more money for his drug of choice, heroin, so if ever he had a panic attack and was sober he'd just be up Schitt's creek without a paddle.

Jasper waited for Michael to leave the room to pull his backpack over to him and move to sitting in the corner. He just needed to get high right now, then he would be more pleasant to be around, he could go and hang out with Mike and everything would be fine. When he was done shooting up, he made sure not to leave any drug paraphernalia left out, and he sat there until that first rush was over and he felt like he could walk again. Before long he was almost stumbling down the hallway, not quite, but just enough for someone to notice that he wasn't walking properly. He took a seat next to Michael, and laughed at whatever was on TV, whether it was actually funny or not.

Jasper raised his head and looked over at him, attempting to focus on his face but failing. "Mhm. I feel great." He picked up the remote to change it to something like an animal documentary, something that was easy to pay attention to. "What is that supposed to mean, anyway? Of course I'm fine, fuck, Mike."

Jasper shook his head, pulling up his sleeve slightly to scratch at his arm, revealing some track marks but not many if Michael looked fast enough before he pulled it back down. "I think I can find a job on my own," he told him. "Thanks, though."

Jasper shrugged and pulled out his phone, letting an exaggerated sigh as he scrolled through different job openings. "How could I possibly know? I can't just ensure you that I'll get hired somewhere. All I can do is try."

Jasper sighed just a little as he watched him drive off, but it gave him an opportunity to search for loose change or a rainy day fund. So, as bad as it made him feel, he searched and searched, and eventually found his stash. He only took about 50 dollars from it, but it would definitely be noticeable. He'd go off and get his stuff at night when Michael was asleep.

Jasper was taking a nap by the time Michael got home, but his yelling woke him up. "I'm not that hungry, but sure!" he called back, rolling out of bed to go and meet him in the kitchen. He stood there in his hoodie and some random shorts from his suitcase, and it was very noticeable just how skinny he'd become in the past year.

Jasper looked down at his legs and then back up at Michael, but he couldn't force himself to look him in the eye. "I guess. The fuck do you know? I'm fine," he insisted, though there was no argument there to begin with.

Jasper balled his fists at his sides and his muscles tensed up, and he opened his mouth to try and speak but all that came out was some weird disgruntled noise. He couldn't argue with that, because he was right. "Mhm, right. You have no fucking clue."

Jasper through back his head and let a disgusted and exasperated noise. "Ugh! Everyone's been fucking interrogating me constantly, like I'm a goddamn criminal or some shit. Fuck!" He threw up his arms and slammed himself into a seat at the table, and then brought them to his face to rub his eyes. "Just...I'm sorry, dude, I don't know. I don't know!" This was a clear overreaction, but he just didn't know how to regulate his emotions anymore.

Jasper nodded at him, but stood up once again. "I'm not very hungry...I think I'm going to bed." He went on his way to the bedroom, just to go and get high again. "Thanks for letting me stay again, man," he called as he left. This was what his life consisted of now. Yelling and fighting, and then storming off to shoot smack.

If Michael looked hard enough then he'd notice that a spoon was missing from the kitchen table, taken by Jasper to heat up his drugs with. This time he'd shot up just a little too much, not enough to overdose, but enough to temporarily disable him from walking or really talking properly, so without even removing the needle from his fucked up, bleeding arm, he curled up in his corner and just fell asleep.

Jasper slowly blinked his eyes open, and furrowed his brows at him, trying to pull away from Michael, but he was way too weak for that at the moment. "Fuck...Michael, what? I'm fine, I just need sleep, I'm fine," he mumbled, smacking his dry mouth together and curling up into himself just a bit more.

Jasper sat hunched over in the passenger's seat, tiny and shaking and sick, and he removed the shirt from his arm to look at the purple veins and track marks. On the way to the hospital, he got sick enough to just vomit all down his t-shirt. As they were waiting Jasper just sat there and cried, putting his head on Michael's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Michael."

Jasper just continued to cry, his voice cracking when he spoke. "I can't quit, I've tried already, I can't do it. I'm so sorry Michael." He didn't know what else to do other than apologize and cry, and he didn't stop doing it.