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”Ugh, where’d you put my basket?” Charlie blurted out after he slumped himself over his knees. They had been sitting on Charlie’s couch huffing glue for about a half hour, but Charlie was starting to look pretty bad.
"What basket? You mean your puke bucket?" Mac sniffed the can of glue again, and reeled from the pink and purple tsunami in his head.
"No my rat basket that I handed to the burger king yesterday." Charlie started swinging back and forth, still leaned over his knees, with his head almost touching the ground.
"Dude, are you okay?" Mac grabbed Charlie by his armpits and pulled him back up next to him. Charlie’s eyes were frantic, darting back and forth across the room. His cheeks were red, but his face was a putrid green. "Oh my god, Charlie, how much did you huff?"
"Well ask my basket! I don’t know where she is, though so you haf tuh fah huh…" He trailed off into more mumbling, and saliva started to dribble down to his chin.
"Oh Jesus, Charlie!" Mac pushed Charlie down towards the side of the couch to make him lay down, and he got up to move his legs. The wave of colors came back, though, and he tripped on his feet and tumbled onto the couch. His face landed in Charlie’s lap, and he had to close his eyes and keep still to try to stop the pulsing in his head.
"Don’t do it yet, Mac, I wanna remember it." Charlie moved his hands down to Mac’s head and started petting the slicked back hair, but Mac shot up again, forcing his eyes open and the colors out of his head.
"Cut it out, dude. I gotta take care of you, cause neither of us can afford to go to a hospital." Mac looked down at Charlie laying on the couch, and noticed the rising bulge in his jeans. Charlie started to mumble again, interspersed with laughs and kissing noises. Mac stumbled to the bathroom and got a cup of water and set it down next to Charlie on the floor.
"Dude, cut it out." Charlie was touching himself over his jeans and Mac couldn’t stop staring. He started to feel the pinks and purples in his head turn into red and orange, shooting through his brain and moving his hands. Mac knew it wasn’t him doing this, it was the glue. He was just along for the ride. His hands moved to Charlie’s face; one rubbed his course beard, the other trailed in Charlie’s hair. The reds and oranges turned into blues and greens. Charlie stopped moving and practically purred.
"Kiss me, Mac"
"No, Charlie."
"Please, dude, I think I’m dying."
"You aren’t dying Charlie." Mac smiled and laughed to himself. The colors swirled in his head and he felt like he was swimming in them. His hands kept stroking Charlie’s hair and face, but it wasn’t just the glue anymore. It felt nice, it was like the water of a cool pond rushing over him.
Charlie opened his eyes up and looked at Mac with a grin, and said, “Pigeon boys for life,” before he nodded off. Mac stopped moving and looked at the sereneness in front of him, thinking about how Charlie made those angry colors turn into this calm, nice feeling.
Mac’s eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped to Charlie’s chest. Charlie’s hands moved to Mac’s hair while he slept. They stayed still for hours, sleeping off the high they worked so hard to reach.