1
The night is cool and dam beneath the setting sun, tires sloshing through dirty puddles behind the tall white fence, that barrier the only thing between Adam Duran and another drink. The first one is never his last, hence he subjected himself to rehab after plummeting off the wagon for the hundredth time.
He takes a drag of his quickly vanishing cigarette, long and deep. His middle and pointer finger are a filthy yellow, something that's never happened to him over his many years of being a reluctant off-and-on smoker.
Bang bang bang!
Adam turns his head, taking a step forward and squinting past his reflection. He vaguely sees Sam, one of the few people in this dump he'd call a friend, beckoning him inside. He flips him the bird, to which he responds by flipping him off back with a grin, sporting a broken front tooth.
With a grunt, he finishes his Marlboro red in the next minute, smushing it out by the ash-filled bowl besides the trash can and patio door. He enters the building, taking the door on the left to a dimly lit TV room. It's the same place where he'd be doing CSS classes the following day after graduating from detox. He's heard it's shitty, but supposedly better than doing fucking nothing for the rest of his sentence.
"Do you want to watch the new Saw? asks Ava, Sam’s arm wrapped around her. He hadn't spotted her in the window but is unsurprised by her presence. She and Sam had come to rehab together, because it wasn't enough to enable each other in active addiction; they had to make Adam their awkward third wheel.
"Whatever," he says. He sits down and pops the recliner of the worn-out couch. All bitching aside, these two idiots are the only people keeping him sane in here. They've been having movie nights lately until the techs come in at 10 and tell them to shut it down. It's always horror with them, and Adam has asked them to try a romantic comedy instead with very little success. The couple had a preference towards screaming and gore over quirky love stories with happy endings.
Towards the movie's climax, which makes no sense according to Ava with the ending of Saw 3 and 7, the door flings open and in enters a new patient in blue scrubs. Adam considers himself straight as a board, thank you very much, but even he has to acknowledge the angelic angle of this young boy's jaw and the perfect waves of his golden blonde locks. He's feminine-looking but his bushy dark eyebrows and flat chest tell him otherwise-- he looks like a model or an actor, but even actors on television or film have to look somewhat human and this guy is abnormally handsome. One of his eyes is chocolate brown and the other blue, which has to be contacts in order to draw more attention to himself-- not that he needs the help.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
His big pupils land on him, first. The boy is definitely on something, his eyelids heavy and low. But even with his fatigued appearance, he speaks with an abundance of energy.
"Do any of y'all have a cigarette? I just got here and didn't know ya could smoke." His voice is distinctly Southern, loud, clear and slow due to his obvious intoxication. He points at each of them. "Vape. Vape. Vape, I'm guessing? God, I miss my fucking boots! I’m living this dream– no, nightmare where you’re in school with no clothes on the day of a big test ‘cause I’m basically naked without my babies. I’m like a bird without its wings, man!”
Sam pauses the film. “Adam has cigarettes.”
Adam gives him the most menacing scowl he can muster, which just makes his friend laugh.
“You’re an angel, dude. What’cha smoke?”
Adam pulls the half-empty pack from his hoodie pocket.
“I usually smoke Crowns ‘cause of the price. Not that I’m complainin’ or nothin’-- don’t color me ungrateful. Name’s Finn with two Ns. I grew up on Adventure Time so that’s how I picked it. Don’t ask me for my real name ‘cause I won’t tell ya, but it’s lame and that person is dead now. What’s yours?”
“Adam,” he mumbles and begrudgingly and briefly shakes his outstretched cold hand, engulfing it in his larger one. He hands him the cigarette and his neon-green house lighter.
“Thanks a million,” he says, sticking the cig behind his ear and the lighter in his pocket to form a corny heart with his fingers.
“I’m Sam and this is Ava,” Sam interrupts. He takes a look behind his shoulder to make sure there’s no one behind the window before taking a large hit of his strawberry-banana vape, sucking down the sickeningly sweet smoke before exhaling.
“Nice to meet’cha. Catch you guys later!”
He departs, and the movie resumes like nothing happens other then the homesick feeling in Adam’s chest. Isabella, his former wife, had the same twang. He tells himself that this is a dumb thing to start the Internal Spiral about, but he doesn’t pay attention to the rest of the film, and stays up most of the night dancing the dance of grief. His roommate is leaving the same day he is set to start CSS, and he silently prays to a God he believes is dead that he won’t get some dude in the throes of detoxing.
The clock says it’s 4am by the time he finally drifts off, sleep putting him out of his misery.
2
Adam downs several nips in his car before popping in a mint to hide the alcohol's scent. He opens the garage door and stumbles into the kitchen. Isabella is cutting tomatoes in a sundress, dark skin beautiful in the sunny yellow fabric.
“Good morning,” he tells her.
“Is it?” she asks with a sigh.
He closes the distance between them with a kiss, and when he pulls back, Finn is gazing back at him with those mismatched eyes…
Adam awakens with a gasp, hand flying up to his lips.
“Good morning to you, too,” croaks Bryce with a toothbrush in his mouth. “Bad dream?”
“Utter nightmare.”
Why the fuck am I dreaming about that new guy? he wonders in disgust. He draws a connection between his old life and his life at Regal Treatment– that must be it. A weak parallel between his past marriage and his dreadful existence in these walls with unfamiliar people always coming in…
Nothing more, nothing less.