Chapter Text
This couldn’t be happening. Fucking car, fucking… He can’t get his pills, can’t get to class tomorrow… Please, please, please, not the bus…
Sunny breathed in and tried the ignition once more. It hitched and then…
Nothing. Fuck. He smashed his forehead against the wheel, but he jumped when the car honked at him. Did anyone notice? He looked around and fished a cigarette out of the box in the cupholder. Fucking place had no menthols last time, and now he couldn’t even get more. Maybe the grocery store had them, though, and he could walk there.
He lit up on the way out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Piece of shit. He looked back in the box–only two left? Are you fucking kidding? Now he had to walk to the store for sure. Pajamas were not going to cut it. Plenty of people were going to see him–everyone in the apartment complex went there, not to mention everyone on the road.
What the fuck was he going to do? The bus didn’t even run to the pharmacy. No fucking meds… he was going to freak out, he could tell. It already felt like crawling across broken glass to get through the rest of the month after blowing too many so early. He couldn’t wait anymore.
Wait, wait, the grocery store! He took another long drag and almost coughed, but a smile was spreading on his face. The grocery store had a pharmacy. That was perfect–he could get it transferred there. The nicotine was hitting, he was going to get his meds… he’d deal with the car bullshit tomorrow.
He held the smoke in his open mouth and let it float away. It was almost a peaceful moment, but some rotten old hag was looking down at him from one of the balconies. It was a college town–what the fuck was she doing here? Out of the home to visit junior? He flicked the cigarette on the ground and scowled at her, which made her shrink back. Shorts too short for you, huh? Jealous bitch.
He hadn’t put them on to show off–not that he couldn’t–but in the pharmacy drive-thru, either nobody or just the pharmacy person would see them, and he almost never saw classmates at the good grocery store. Those were both out the window now, though–he’d have to be less trashy for this run.
At least he could go get a coffee like usual since it was right in front of the grocery store. He was planning to just skip it with how late it was, but he’d have to go over there anyway. Small blessings, right?
Cigarette stomped, he walked back through the open air corridor and reached his door. Day’s totally fucking ruined already, and he just got up. He had to get ready now properly, and the wind would probably fuck up his hair anyway, so it didn’t matter, but if somebody he knew saw him…
His phone vibrated again. God damn it. 2 PM?! That was so gay. He scrolled through the unreads.
Sunny, I’m sorry, but did you get my last text?
Good night if you see this
Sorry, I don’t want to wake you up if you’re sleeping late, but how are you?
Also, I know I asked last week, but do you want to go with me to the–
He looked away. That sucked. He slammed the door shut behind him–deadbolt locked–and took a deep breath.
Wait, wait, no… that could be good. Yeah, that could work. He pecked the letters with both thumbs as fast as he could.
hi sorry im doing bad.
my car died and i have to get it fixed and my meds are in but i cant get there
“dad” wont cover it so i dont know what im going to do
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Please work. He paced back and forth and held the phone at his side. Well, better get dressed while that brewed. Come on, Oz, don’t fuck me this time–rich dad prick.
He set down the phone to pull a shirt that should be okay out of the dirty clothes pile, and it vibrated again way too quickly. Shit, shit, shit. He fumbled with it and almost sent it flying into the wall and read the message as fast as he could–
Oh, I’m so sorry! I got paid yesterday so I can send–
Yes! Sunny’s victory skipping was cut short by stepping on and nearly falling off of an abandoned merlot bottle on the floor. It rolled and his head almost went through the vanity before he caught himself.
Holy shit, that could have moved up the timetable a lot.
He peeked in and shook it at his mouth, but only a single off-tasting drop hit the back of his throat and nearly made him gag. Bet Oz would’ve liked to see that. Ewie, was this the bottle from last week?
He thudded it on his filthy vanity next to the makeup and empty orange pill bottles. He checked some of them for good measure, but obviously they were picked clean. That sucked. No hair of the dog this morning–er, afternoon.
The phone vibrated again–two hundred and fifty dollars straight into his payment app. A few more taps and it was in checking. Fuck yes. Drinks–and more importantly, meds–on Oz, and that covered last week’s stupid paper from the essay mill too. Hopefully that’d leave enough for whatever the fuck happened to his stupid hybrid. Shit, did he send that essay in? Yes, yes, he did. Damn. No more fuckups, please, not today, not today.
He stared at the scale in the bathroom and ran over to it. He was a fucking mess, but it was solvable. He glanced down at the scale–110 on the dot. Perfect. Cheesecake would be fine, thank you.
After that, he breezed through straightening his hair and even did the crab claw routine in the mirror. Thighs looked fine apart from the obvious–stupid fucking gam gam in the parking lot be damned–and he ignored everything else. Today was recoverable, surely.
The jeans scraped his bandages on the way up. Fuck. Too excited. He winced and did the button. When was the last time he walked anywhere far like this? Probably to the store back home. That was grim. Well, what would go with black skinnies? He got the pair with the silver chain. Probably black and white. He fished the striped sweater out of the dirty pile, long sleeved of course, and threw the other dirty shirt back on the floor.
He looked at the vanity mirror. That was fine. Better than fine. He should take a picture for Oz later, once all this fucking bullshit was over, just to settle him down a bit. Ugh, but he’d need to cover up his moody dark spots at least. No time now, it was already 2:30…
He stared in the mirror and imagined some fucker from one of his classes seeing him. Fine, fine. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction–there’s the foundation…
He just ended up doing all of it. At least that was done. Now time for cheesecake. He opened the freezer.
Oh, no.
The box wasn’t fully closed, and the last slice in there looked and felt like an igloo brick. Maybe it was still fine? He bit into it gingerly and spat it into the trash. Fucking spoiled astronaut food. How was that possible? Oh, fuck, he probably left it on the counter before putting it back in there last time…
He shot out the door, locked it, and tried the knob. Wallet, keys–well, he only needed the house key now, whatever. Deadbolt locked. If he forgot his ID and couldn’t get anything… He put his hands in his pockets. No, there it was, yes.
Out of the complex’s gate by then, he was thinking about a treat. Shopping hungry was a stupid idea, and he was starving, so that was really stupid. Whatever, he’d been good, and he had a pile of money again.
“Operator! Attendant! Representative!” he shouted at the grocery store telephone queue. His voice was drowned out by traffic, thank god, so it was okay to be a little dumb. Nothing happened. “Are you serious…”
He waited for the automated teller to go back through the spiel and hit the right button this time. This horseshit always felt like some kind of twisted behavioral experiment. He finally got connected to the pharmacy and explained the situation. The dread was pooling in his stomach, mixing with the miserable withdrawal anxiety. He hated being on the phone.
“Sure, we can do that,” the lady said, but she was talking too slowly and taking too long. She started asking question after question.
Sunny felt his pulse rise higher when he had to start looking some of those things up–he had to do it on his phone, so he expected she could hear him pressing the screen and pulling up his email. That sucked. He probably sounded stupid. He dismissed another notification–could she hear his text tone, too? Finally, though, he answered everything, and she paused for a moment and he heard typing.
“Okay, let me speak to the pharmacist. May I put you on hold?”
“Yeah.”
Sunny scoffed. Then the music came on, and he almost rolled his ankle in a hole he couldn’t see through the grass off the side of the road. Fuck! Why wasn’t there a sidewalk on this side? It’s fine, it’s fine. If somebody saw him stumble he’d lose it. He’d rather just fall in the street and have his head blow up like a watermelon.
All those fuckers in cars that actually worked–shouldn’t he have a working car? Didn’t he deserve it? He’d been doing well enough in school again finally, even if half of it was bought and paid for. So much for that “academic honesty” pledge. Self-important fuckers. It could be worse, though–he could be a cyclist. Then he’d really deserve to get hit.
He’d have to check his high tops when he got home–he’d look just as stupid holding one of his feet up in the air. Last time he’d splashed in a mud puddle, and he’d fucked around with baking soda and bleach until his hands stung.
That was when money was tight, though, so whatever. His fake dad’s check would come through in a few days anyway. Would transferring online like Oz really be too tough for him to figure out? Maybe, but probably it was just to screw with him and make him do something for it other than go to school–which was all his mom wanted anyway, so what was the point?
“Sir? Are you still there?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes.”
No shit. He rounded the corner into the parking lot of the grocery store and the coffee shop he always went to on Sunday. He was over an hour late compared to usual. He almost never used the grocery store there, though, because it was overpriced, and he always saw someone from college.
“I’m sorry, but we can’t transfer one of these prescriptions. It’s a scheduled substance, and–”
Sunny’s eyes stared off into the distance and his jaw set. Motherfucker. Are you kidding me?
“Sir, I–”
Did he say that out loud? Fuck.
“What’s the problem? Why can’t my prescription be transferred?”
“Sir, it’s controlled, and our policy is that–”
“So it’s policy? It’d be legal, but you aren’t doing it because it’s policy?”
“Well, that’s–”
“What if I could die? What if I could really die? I died because of your policy? You really killed me? Someone else that used your pharmacy needed something like this, and I mean someone that really needed it, like for cancer or whatever, then would you transfer it?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t discuss other patients’ pre–”
Sunny hit the red icon and stared, unseeing, at the coffee shop. Cool air filled his lungs. What. The. Fuck. He went to contacts and called the clinic. Thank you for calling, yada yada…
“Our business hours–9 AM to 1:30 PM–have concluded for the day. In case of an emergency, please call the college hospital system emergency line at–”
He couldn’t get his refill. He couldn’t get his refill! He was pacing the sidewalk already. Forget it: he’d be buying a whole vineyard after this–he’d look at the unit prices for the cheapest swill he could find and in the biggest bottle. It’s fine on Sunday–people do it at church.
Fuck, but someone would see him for sure, and he’d have just wine and cheesecake and look like an idiot wine-mom. What time Monday did the clinic open? He couldn’t catch his breath. After a week of waiting he had to go another day?
He paused near the entrance and shook his head. He’d at least have his coffee and maybe a little treat. He was almost certain the day was lost, though. He crossed the threshold through the glass door and nearly bumped shoulders with a–geez, who was that? He was about an inch taller than him with longish blonde hair and… sidetails, dude, really? Only at a college. He was one to talk, though.
Blondie’s blue eyes went from troubled to opening wide in shock, and he excused himself and stood back for Sunny to enter. After Sunny passed him, though, he sat back down at one of the tables alone and looked out the window. That was weird. Decide where you want to go first, prick. Ugh, he should’ve had a cigarette before he came in.
He ordered his usual and eyed the desserts. No cheesecake? He was well and truly fucked. He rolled his eyes and sat down near the exit. He would just drink it in the store this time. Not like he had anything to do, or anywhere to go…
“Sorry, did you say your name was Sunny? That’s pretty unusual,” a soft voice said from behind him.
Sunny turned around in his chair and–what the fuck–it was Blondie again. He didn’t need this today.
“Yeah, I get that a lot. And some cute comments about it,” Sunny muttered. He glanced back up. The guy was still there, smiling sweetly at him with his hands folded behind his back.
“Haha, sorry. I understand, though. My name’s a little strange, too–I’m Basil.”
What the fuck was with this guy? There might have been a little nervousness there, but he was just radiating nauseating sweetness. Maybe he deserved the name Sunny instead. He buried a grimace–fucking his day up worse by making a scene would not be a good idea.
The weird guy continued, “I like your hairclip–I wear one sometimes, too.”
Sunny’s hand flew to his hairclip–Oz’ idea of a joke, it had a crescent moon on it. He had it sent to his post office box on campus, of course. “Thanks, my boyfriend got it for me.” Yeah, get mad, faggot.
Basil’s face cracked for a split second, but he put back on an apologetic smile. “Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t know–I don’t want to bother you.”
Wait, seriously? This dude was actually shooting his shot in public? Was this a coffee shop or a gay bar? Well, there wasn’t really a difference except for the drinks.
Sunny looked him up and down–a sweater vest homo with actual leather loafers. No way, right? He looked kind of nice in those pleated pants, but what decade was it?
High waisted pants always looked good on guys, though, especially with a skinny waist like his. Sexy ones were fucking hard to find, too–Sunny just got girls’ pants most of the time, which was lame as hell, but what could you do? But seriously, this guy was trying to pick him up for real? He picked the wrong day.
Sunny breathed in, ready to say something incendiary.
Wait! Wait… no, this could work.
“Sorry, I was just kidding,” Sunny replied with a pinched smile, trying to turn up the charm, but his fucking meds were gone and making him crazy, his head hurt, that had been a long walk, and the sky was falling. It was true enough, though. He’d never, ever told Oz they were dating. “I’m just having a bad day–I was gonna go to the pharmacy over in the grocery store, but they won’t transfer my meds. My car broke down today…”
“Oh, no,” Basil said, and his big blue eyes gathered rain clouds. “I could drive you over if you need some help.”
Fuck yes. New sucker! He never pulled this shit in real life, though, so this would have to be temporary. Very temporary.
“Thank you, Basil, I really owe you,” Sunny replied with what he hoped was an angelic smile. He knew he was still a bit of a mess–probably smelled like a fireplace and stale wine, just like his room–but at least he had done his hair and makeup, or he would’ve been beyond fucked. Yes, yes, yes!
Sunny picked up his coffee when called and followed Basil out–he seemed happy, at least. That was a good sign–a very good sign. To get through hell, Sunny was perfectly willing to feed that fantasy.