Work Text:
“I'm leaving, Johnny.” Kerry says.
It's late. Probably three in the morning. Windows open. If Johnny were still a kid, if it was ten years ago, he'd be hearing crickets instead of rubber screeching against pavement.
Johnny doesn't care.
He tries to light a cigarette. Cheap fuckin' lighter is busted.
“Get this for me.” Johnny tells. He doesn't ask.
Kerry breathes too loud, takes too long. Not gone. Just watching, lingering by the bedroom door. Waiting for something he knows better than to think he'll get. It's always that way, with Ker.
“You aren't listening.” Whispered, from across the room.
The irritation creeps in, right alongside the pressure building in his head. All Johnny needs is a smoke, but no, Kerry's decided to be a bitch about it. Wants to make it a conversation.
“What? You plan on leaving? Finding an output to leech off of? Since you're so sick of me.” He means to laugh. He coughs instead. “Not my problem.”
Again, Kerry lingers.
“Light this for me.” Johnny says.
A breeze drifts in from outside. Cold, smelling like years worth of rot.
Kerry climbs back into bed and does as he's told.