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John knocked back a swig of whiskey as the golden rays of the sun shone through the torn drapes. The smell of decaying wood wafted through the air, filling his lungs when he took deep breathes. He fiddled with the heavy revolver he had at his side, rotating the cylinder as he stared into the dust-filled room.
A creak to his left signaled the arrival of his boyfriend. "John?" A soft voice called out. The brunet sighed and threw the whiskey glass to the floor, relishing in the sound it made. A yelp filled the room, quickly followed by timid footsteps.
"Mind the shards, baby. I don't want you getting hurt," John lolled his head in the direction of the concerned brunet. His eyes scanned the cowering frame of the other, standing up and pulling him into a hug.
"I'm not concerned about the fucking glass," Jaren pulled away a few inches, gripping on to the taller man's biceps, "I'm concerned about you." He looked up into John's bloodshot blue eyes, bringing a hand to rest it on his cheek. "You need to stop with the drugs, please."
"Well, that's what happens when you're cast away. Shunned by everyone."
"John, you aren't shunned. Don't say that about yourself," Jaren lightly rubbed his thumb over the heavy bags under John's eyes.
"Please. Name one fucking person that likes me in this godforsaken town," John threw himself back into the chair, leaning his head on the cool metal of the barrel.
"John, I love you," Jaren shuffled forward, leaning on the armrests, "and that's all that matters."