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It burned in his throat. A searing, familiarly bitter liquid making its way down to his half-empty stomach. He wasn’t one to drink all the time, no. A few years back, he would’ve only been able to take in a couple of shots, half a bottle of beer if his head banged and body aches too much from shadowy phantoms or a long day of work. The months bled into a muddy pool of years, and Jimmy stares into his drink like a mirror of the past. A reflection of a man that died and rose again.
He never drank the mouthwash, but the scent of mint etched into corners of his nostrils, invading every single crevice until it was the only thing clogging his lungs. That, alone, made his throat close up, the bile reaching up to his throat. That was not here nor there right now, though. Half a bottle of whiskey in, and the fatigue weighed heavy on his body as he felt his eyes droop. Darkness, then the bottle, darkness, then the cup. He doesn’t quite recall when he bought the whiskey cup, nor does he think he bought it at all. Perhaps it was simply a gift from Curly, before Pony Express. It was quite expensive, Jimmy assumed when he stared at it for the first time. Curly laughed, poured Jimmy a drink (he couldn’t remember what for), and cheered. To a new beginning. Hah. New beginning, indeed. They were younger, naive, hopeful. Now, after the Tulpar crashed and they were miraculously rescued– Jimmy and Curly were older, jaded, tainted by a world full of snakes. Predators that would sink their teeth in at every opportunity they could, salivating at the thought of prey. Jimmy took another sip.
It burned his throat, making its way down and down until his now empty stomach simply gurgled. He blinked. Right– food. He sometimes forgot to eat. Lazily, he picks up the spoon that laid on the glass plate, etched with intricate floral design. Pink. Scooping up a mixture of rice and curry, he brought the food to his lips and started chewing. Uncomfortable, sloppy mush curdling in his mouth and sliding down his throat. Years of working with Pony Express, he can’t recall how good food tastes anymore. All of it came together to one pool of goop, slimy and sticky. At the very least, it had more flavor than whatever was served at the Tulpar. No more spending credits almost three times a day for a meal (on good days), too. They could cook for lunch and have leftovers for dinner. Less costly. He scooped up some more, fingers tracing the thin silver, and paused. At the corner of his eye was pink– flowers, decorative and useless. It just sat there, looking pretty, nothing to contribute aside from its aesthetic. It was better that way, really. The pretty little things were made up of plastic (despite protests and requests to get the real thing, Jimmy didn’t want to spend extra just for it to die within a few weeks), no need to water them. Nothing to worry about. He didn’t need that extra responsibility right now.
Jimmy shifted on the couch, putting his weight on one arm to adjust. His body felt heavy as tiredness crept up to him, clawing at his skin. He took another swig of his whiskey. The heat became a comfort, pooling into his belly like a warm hug. He had a long day today– he deserved to relax. Once he finishes up with his drink, he’ll get up and head to bed. Then work. The same, monotonous routine. It wasn’t any different from his time with Pony Express, but at the very least– he stayed on Earth. Steel walls were replaced with white that had questionable stains, instead of a cockpit Jimmy worked at a counter. At the very least– he could walk around, sometimes it still felt like he was in space. He did miss the windows, which his new workplace had. Instead of a window screen, he saw real clouds. Real sun, real stars in the night sky.
“Jim,” he heard a voice call out to him. He needn’t turn his head to know who it is. “It’s late, come to bed.” Jimmy simply stared at his drink, sipping again as he grumbled. “A few more minutes.” He said, no– promised. He felt his body shift, arm lifting to accommodate the sudden lack of space as arms wrapped around his torso. “Please.” Jimmy almost felt bad, he was just trying to destress, and his poor, sweet Daisuke just wanted him to go to bed. It wasn’t his fault– the boy did nothing all day except wait. Waiting while he cooked Jimmy’s favorite meal and cleaned the almost-empty apartment that Jimmy had him move into. The boy’s parents couldn’t understand, never would understand. About what the both of them had gone through during that crash. But none of that mattered, Daisuke made him feel alive, like a new man. The boy had so much love to give, he kissed Jimmy like he was the only thing that mattered. Hugged him and gave him affection that he didn’t know a person could be so full of.
Sniffles filled his ears as he decided to take a glance at the boy, feeling tears staining his shirt as he took Daisuke’s chin and lifted his face. God– the kid’s such a crybaby, easily tearing up at even the smallest of things. Today, he cried because he couldn’t cook Jimmy some chicken. Jimmy doesn’t even care for chicken, he’d rather a steak. And he even told Daisuke so, but that wasn’t the point, apparently. The kid overthinks everything, it was a bit annoying. Still, he tries. He always does. Daisuke always tried, just to make Jimmy happy. And Jimmy loved that about him, how much effort Daisuke was willing to put in for this relationship. He never met someone so willing to do this for him, Jimmy wasn’t so sure how to take it.
“Hey,” Jimmy slurred out, feeling Daisuke move closer until their lips met. It didn’t last for long, though. Jimmy pulled away, much to Daisuke’s disappointment, and looked the boy in the eye. “Bed?” Daisuke paused before nodding, getting up from the couch and helping Jimmy up, who tumbled around from drunken stupor. Daisuke was a bit smaller than him, even though Jimmy was definitely thinner, he still felt Daisuke stumble a little from the sudden shift of weight. That’s another thing that Jimmy loved about Daisuke– the boy always took care of him, no matter what happened. Even when Jimmy found himself slouching at the front of a bar, or found himself near a few garbage cans after getting himself in trouble with the wrong people, Daisuke was always there to pick him back up. Maybe that’s why Daisuke cried so much– Jimmy was always a reckless man, the thought of losing him probably worried the boy so much. Still, when they get to bed, Jimmy kisses Daisuke’s forehead and stares into teary, hazel eyes.
He saw the hesitation in his eyes, how the boy always needed to think about what he says before speaking. “I just–” Daisuke’s voice was hoarse, clearly from the tears he spilled earlier, “I was just worried. I’m sorry.” Jimmy hums as Daisuke comes closer, feeling his body shake. “I know you can stop anytime, and– I-I don’t know, I was just scared. I don’t know. Sorry.” Daisuke placed a small peck on Jimmy’s cheek, as if to reassure him that he was okay. That everything was okay. Jimmy simply nodded and drifted into thought. If Daisuke were a woman, then Jimmy would’ve considered Daisuke to be somewhat of wife material. Jimmy probably would’ve had Daisuke stay home all the time, nevermind that this was already the case– no, it wasn’t Daisuke’s choice to stay home. It wasn’t his fault that the crash left him incapable of working, that it wasn’t a conscious decision on both of their parts. Still, in another lifetime where there was no Pony Express, no Tulpar– Daisuke probably would even if he had the ability to work and study and do whatever he wanted. Because he loved Jimmy so much, he would do anything for Jimmy. And Jimmy loved that about Daisuke, too. How Daisuke would bend himself backwards for a man like him.
Jimmy turned to his side, feeling Daisuke’s cheek on his back as he sobbed more. God– the kid really did cry a lot, huh? “Jimmy,” Daisuke called out to him, “please. Look at me. Please.” He heard Daisuke beg, but he was too tired. Soon enough, Daisuke will tire himself out and fall asleep to the sounds of Jimmy’s heart beating. Daisuke had stopped asking Jimmy to say something, anything, after a while– he knew Jimmy wasn’t a man of words. Daisuke knew Jimmy too well, better than Curly or Anya or Swansea– it was Daisuke who understood him. His little boyfriend, his little wife. No woman could compare to Daisuke, who gave Jimmy more attention and care than any woman did in his life.
Soon enough Jimmy fell asleep to the sounds of sobbing and sniffling. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up to his boyfriend cooking breakfast, brewing his cup of coffee, with a smile on his face.