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Eraser's hands were cold.
Fuck, why was he so damn cold?
He rubbed his hands on his raggedy jeans, sighing. He dug through the bag he brought to the party, stuffed with fat rolls of cash he stole from his parents and got from selling shit, and some crack that Snowball gave him. Taking the dirty Ziploc bag out of his backpack, he grabbed his phone, texting Blocky to hurry it the fuck up. Soon, he came knocking. Eraser got up from the sticky bathroom floor and unlocked the door for his buddy. "Hey."
Blocky greeted Eraser back with a tired hum before sitting criss-cross on the floor, the half-broken old as fuck LED lights buzzing. The room looked green. "You, uh, have the shit, right?" Blocky asked. He smelled like booze, suffocating Eraser. God, he hated the smell of alcohol more than anything in the world.
"Yeah," Eraser replied, shaking the bag that was in his hand. Blocky gave him the money, Eraser gave him the goods. Blocky looked up at him. "Wanna do some?" Eraser stayed silent. "... No. I don't do that stuff." The other chuckled. "Why not? C'mon, try it." Eraser was going to decline again, but he thought about it. Like, used his brain and thought about that shit.
It's only once. He's done nothing like this. It's not like he would, like, die, or anything. But people die from doing this. Fuck, what the hell, why not? It's not like he's got anything going for him.
"Yeah, fine. Okay."
Blocky whipped out a pipe and a lighter, giggling under his breath. He heated the crystals as they made quiet crackling sounds and breathed them in once they melted. After he was done, he passed it over to Eraser, who took it with a shaky hand.
Holy shit.
Eraser immediately felt elevated as soon as he smoked it. What was this shit? He felt all weird and giggly and a little nauseous and nervous and funny and-
"Um, you good?" Blocky interrupted Eraser's train of thought. If you could even call it that.
Eraser covered his face with his hands, suddenly feeling anxious for no reason. His breathing became rapid, his heart beating fast. Blocky stood and helped Eraser get up as well. "Let's go outside, less sound and not as cramped. Kay?" Eraser only nodded. He felt like he was going to choke to death. Like the walls were gonna close in on him and crush him. He needed to leave.
They both lay in the grass, giggling and talking away until Eraser felt less paranoid. The next morning was a blur. Eraser walked home after Blocky fell asleep drunk on the couch. He didn't sleep. He couldn't eat, either. Even thinking about food made him feel sick. He felt so fucking guilty, but it all felt so... good.
Blocky texted him.
Urg. Eraser didn't wanna talk to him right now. Boredom and curiosity took over, though, and he read the message.
"Hey, I got sum more good shit if u want me 2 come ovr,"
Eraser wanted to throw his phone.
But he didn't.
"Yeah, sure."
Blocky arrived not much later, holding a large handbag. He set it down and dug through it, pulling out a vape, a pack of Marlboro Reds, a bottle of rum and a bottle of vodka, and some crystals in a small bag. Eraser gripped the bedsheets. Meth, of course. Of fucking course. A lump formed in his throat and his hands became sweaty. "You got soda?" Blocky asked. Eraser nodded, getting up and walking over to his mini fridge. He grabbed a white Monster for himself and a Coca-Cola for his friend.
Blocky softly smiled at him, muttering a small 'thanks' before taking a swig of his vodka and chasing it with the soda. He tilted the bottle towards Eraser, gesturing for him to take it. He did, taking a few large gulps before setting the bottle down and coughing. He grabbed his Monster and sipped it, relieving the pain a bit. Eraser could feel the warmth bubbling up in his chest, his thoughts turning fuzzy. It was nice.
He and Blocky were talking for a while, vaping and smoking, and drinking. Blocky dug through his bag, whipping out...
More cocaine. Where did he even get this shit? Eraser only gave him a single bag. It was probably leftovers from last night. They smoked that, too, now feeling even better. Hours passed, and now it was night. Blocky and Eraser have been passing around the pipe all day, and now they were all out, and the energetic effects wore out, leaving them both exhausted.
"Mmm, Blockster?" "Hm?" Eraser rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Wanna sleep here? I only have my bed, though." Blocky smiled and nodded, getting up and immediately plopping down onto Eraser's bed. Eraser followed him, getting under the covers with the other boy, falling asleep almost instantly.
It was three in the morning now, and Eraser stirred awake. Something was off. There was no weight next to him. Blocky was gone. The bathroom light, which was just across his room, was on, and the door slightly cracked open. Eraser got up quietly, feeling a sense of dread, squeezing his chest tight like a python. He had nothing to be worried about, right? Blocky just needed to take a leak, that's all. But then why was he so nervous?
Eraser walked over to the door and opened it.
Blocky was curled up in a ball and shaking, sniffling coming from him. "B-Blocks?" Eraser sat down on the floor next to him, not sure what to say or do. "... Do you wanna talk about it?" Blocky nodded, poking his head out from in between his knees. His eyes were bloodshot, and snot was dripping down from his nose. He wiped it away, apologizing. "I- I ruin ever- everyth- thing I t- touch, I ruin- ruined you, I- I'm such a- a bad person..." Blocky struggled to get a coherent sentence out, sobbing and gasping for air between most words. Eraser was shocked. "What? N- no, no, you did nothing, what makes you say that?" "You know wha- what."
He was right. Eraser knew what. He pressured him into doing coke. But it wasn't even that much, the first time. And the second time Eraser willingly did it without even being asked. He just did.
"Blocky, no, that's not your fault. I promise."
"R- really?"
"Yeah, let's go back to bed, okay?"
Blocky smiled and slowly got up, Eraser got up soon after, and they both went to bed again. Blocky turned his head to look over at Eraser. "Hey, bud?" Eraser turned his head, too. "Hm?"
"Can we, uhm, cuddle?" Eraser flushed, turning a bright red. It wasn't noticeable in the dark, thankfully. "Yeah, c'mere."
They both were tangled in each other's arms and legs, the room was quiet. They fell asleep like that, happy.
Eraser paced around his room, grumbling to himself. Why was he feeling so terrible? Why did he feel like vomiting but at the same time not? It just wasn't making sense to him. Why was he like this? He ruffled his bright-pink hair, a habit when he was nervous. Pen used to giggle when he did that.
He missed him.
Eraser's stomach grumbled. Right. He hadn't eaten in, like, what, three days? But he felt so nauseous. He couldn't eat when he felt like this. Why couldn't he move on? Pen was gone. It's been that way for months now. So why was it still so, so painful? Eraser looked at the time. 7:58 AM. He should be getting ready by now. It was Monday, anyways. He had to go to school, damn. Eraser groggily got up and threw on some jeans and his favorite hoodie. It was white and blue.
It was Pen's.
Eraser broke down. He couldn't do this anymore. He just couldn't. He wanted to sit back in bed and sob for as long as possible. But he can't.
Eraser wiped his tears and snot on a towel that was lying on his floor and then picked up his bag and left. He didn't bother with brushing his hair or teeth, he didn't want to. He didn't want to do anything.
As he neared the bus stop, his eyes became more and more watery. Fuck. He couldn't go to school like this, he'd make a total fool out of himself. Eraser wanted, no, needed a distraction.
He took his phone out, turned around, and walked back home. He texted Blocky, asking if he wanted to get high at his place instead of going to class. Blocky never really went to school, anyways. Eraser got a text back almost immediately, saying yes. He closed his phone and sighed, wiping his eyes.
He wanted to vomit, even though there was nothing in his stomach.
Blocky came knocking around 30 minutes later. Eraser opened the door, his eyes puffy and cheeks flushed. Blocky gasped, blinking at him in pure surprise. "I- Are you ok?" Eraser gripped the sides of the hoodie he was wearing. Blocky recognized it, but couldn't-
Oh.
"Oh," Blocky said, it suddenly clicking in his head. "Do you... wanna talk about it?" Eraser shook his head no. "I just wanna- I- I need a distraction. I have some shit I bought in my closet." Blocky nodded, following his friend upstairs. The rest of the day was filled with drunken giggles and high chats.
It was late now, and they were both jacked as fuck on the couch, watching TV together. Blocky looked down at Eraser, who had his head resting on Blocky's lap.
"I wish I could live here," Blocky sighed, beginning to ramble. "My house is a fucking dumpster fire. Like if you took a flaming dog shit, and turned it into a trailer, you'd get my home." Eraser nodded, humming. "I wish you lived here, too." Blocky smiled, giggling under his breath. "Really?"
Eraser got up and put his face close to Blocky's. Blocky could smell the liquor on his breath.
"Yeah. I l- *hic* like you."
Blocky screamed on the inside. No way, no fucking way. There's no way Eraser liked him like that, he wasn't good enough. It's probably because of the drugs and alcohol. Yeah, it's that. Is it?
"R- Really?" FUCK. HE DIDN'T MEAN TO SAY THAT.
Eraser took his hand into his own. "Yeah, I do. Even when I- *hic* I'm sober."
If Blocky had his mouth open any wider a fly would go in it. Holy shit.
"I-" Blocky choked on his words, flushing a bright red. His face matched his vibrant bright-red hair.
"Yes."
Eraser blinked. "Whuh?" Blocky bit his lip. "I- I like you too." Blocky stayed completely silent after saying that. He could feel his heart rate speed up as Eraser grabbed his hand, staring into his eyes.
Then he closed his eyes, trying not to doze off.
"I love being with you," Eraser yawned, nesting his face into the crook of Blocky's neck. "I love you." Blocky smiled, softly chuckling under his breath. "Let's get you to bed, sleepyhead." The sleepyhead in question nodded and yawned again, slowly getting up and making a beeline for the stairs, which led to his room. Blocky followed, still holding Eraser's hand. They both went inside the room and then plopped down onto Eraser's bed. Eraser immediately covered himself up, dragging Blocky under with him and clinging onto him like a koala would with a tree.
"I- I miss him. But, it's okay, cus *hic* cus I have you." The pink-haired boy mumbled, melting into the other's arms.
"I do too. Let's sleep, okay?" Eraser nodded, closing his eyes and seemingly falling asleep right away. Blocky, however, stayed awake for a while.
He missed Pen more than he let on. He really did. He just... has issues with sympathy and such. Most of his "5 stages of mourning" or whatever was spent punching shit and getting higher/drunker than usual. But he didn't cry. At all. Honestly, Blocky hadn't cried for a while before his mini-breakdown in the bathroom, but back then, he was all kinds of fucked up. Now, he was pretty sober, everything just about wore off. Blocky can't remember the last time he cried while sober.
So why were his eyes welling up, and his chest tightening? He mainly moved on from Pen's death a while ago. Sure, sometimes he felt a small bit of sorrow when he suddenly remembered him, but that was normal, right?
So why, out of all of the times, would now be the time where every memory he ever had of Pen come flooding back? Tears flowed down his cheeks as he hugged Eraser tighter, who didn't really stir from his sleep. He had always been a super heavy sleeper. He remembered all the times he and Pen would draw on Eraser while he was asleep.
Fuck.
Blocky took deep breaths. One. Two. Three. The feeling in his chest loosened. The waterfalls coming from his eyes turned into calm streams.
Good.
He sighed as he wiped his eyes and nose, getting rid of any evidence that he was crying. He didn't feel his eyes puff up, either, so that was good.
At least he had Eraser. Blocky looked down at him, who was breathing slowly and calmly. Sleep. That's what Blocky needed. He just had to sleep it off.
He'll be okay.