“Here’s the money.  Make sure to get the whole thing, don’t let him jip you.  We went over this, remember?”  He hands over the money and the boy cautiously takes it.  The bills are crumpled in the young man’s hands; he uses them both to hold them together before the other nods towards him.  He quickly stuffs the cash in his jeans, tapping his right hand over the pocket as to ensure its’ safety during the trip.  
	
“Yeah, I remember.”  The boy nods, moving his head up and down slowly, looking up at the man in front of him as if searching for his approval.    
	
“Okay.”
	
“Okay.” Silence.  The boy shakes his head, once more, and moves to the door.
	
“Justin?”  His hand rests on the doorknob.  He wishes for the man behind him to tell him not to go, stay here.  Don’t go - apparently they all can’t wait to get rid of him.
	
“Yeah?”
	
“Be careful.”  He sighs and the man behind him moves back deeper inside the cramped apartment.

He drags his feet the entire way to the corner of Third and Cooper.  This area of town hits too close to home for him.  He can already feel the pull, grasping out with thin bony fingers.  Come be loved, be safe, be warm.  He glances around nervously during the entire walk.  He doesn’t need the exercise.  But, they don’t have any money for the bus.  He doesn’t like the looks he gets when on it anyway.  He has gotten so thin.  They all comment to him on it; he doesn’t need that right now.  He’s never hungry anymore anyway.  He doesn’t really know why, he just knows that food is a luxury he does not want and cannot afford.  They fed him too much when he came, so he slowed his visits down, and then stopped completely.  It’s February in Pittsburgh.  He has always liked this kind of weather.  The way the pure white snow would turn a murky gray with the footprints of the city’s most upstanding citizens.  There are little patches here and there, eternal spring trying to break through on this industrial side of the city, where the ‘honorable’ men and women never came without looking forward to abusing the already abused.  The ground underneath it all was brown and muddy, little sprigs of green sticking up sporadically.  He envisioned the small squares of grass, how luminous and beautiful it would look when the last of the trampled snow would melt away.  Maybe he would go to the park when the weather started looking up.  It seemed to be an eternity since he had picked up a pencil to create something.  The park was still free, right?

Soon enough the great building looms ominously large above him.  The walk is always a short one.  He takes a deep breath before pulling the stylish glass door open.  He can do this.  He doesn’t want to face the rage of the person waiting for him if he doesn’t return with this secret treasure.  He clenches his eyes shut and puts his hand up to his ribs, unconsciously rubbing them.  No broken bones, but bad bruising…let the boy rest for about a week, the doctor said.  He had to work the next day.  Justin didn’t get his rest, but the bruising subsided and he was able to move like a nineteen-year-old boy again.  He said he was sorry, Justin said sorry was bullshit, but he stayed there with him.  Justin looked up at the building again, he doesn’t like to be sent on this little errand, he knows the man has an attraction to him.  He avoids it at all possible costs, one step closer to a line he does not want to cross.  He’s crossed so many of them already.  The time was getting shorter though; their rent was due in a week.  It turned out February would be like January;  no good.  He always promised that it would get better; Justin didn’t think he would live to see the supposed ‘better’ happen.  

The elevator man was always looking at him like he knew why he was here.  He never took it, instead taking his chances on the stairs.  So he took the ten flights up to the large apartment.  There was a man on his way down.  A goofy grin on his face and his eyes were wild and glassy.  Justin thought to himself, would he end up like that when he finally gave into the drug?  He counted every step on the way up, and he did this every time.  They say if you count long enough you can’t really think of anything else.  That fact proved to be true by the time he got to the man’s floor.  The gut wrenching fear would slowly dissipate and he could walk without the tremble and hold his hands steady and then he would be able to sell what little of his respect, his dignity, his soul that he had left.  The way into the man’s two-floor apartment was always airy and uncluttered, unlike the one Justin was so accustomed to.  No garbage sacks packed full of baby diapers, or empty cigarette packs, or glass shards of broken liquor bottles.  He would have to sidestep all of this rot on his way home, to the last apartment on the right.  Apartment H-19.  He laughed a humorless laugh.  Nineteen had not turned out to be his lucky number.  He could either laugh and hold what very little self-possession he had or just break down and wallow in the decay of his own self-loathing.  He was stuck in the middle of these two now.

He knocked with trepidation on the door and looked to either side of it.  He heard just beyond its’ chrome and black cherry wood, rustling papers and a heavy stomping towards it.  The door screeched on its’ hinges and flew open.  A man in his early thirties stood, an unlit cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, his wet hair was pushed back and a few strands fell over his brown eyes.  John was standing there in a very low-slung pair of white silk pajama bottoms, which made his skin look almost golden in the low light of his apartment.  He had a rugged beauty to him, and Justin always felt compelled to draw him.  In all the times that Justin had come to this place, he had never once seen John with anything on his feet.  It reminded him of-

“I wasn’t really expecting…” The man smirked and the boy shook his head, hoping to knock all his memories away with the movement. It hadn’t worked before and it wouldn’t work now.  How many times had he been to this apartment already?  How many times had he given this man money, his money, to get something for someone else?  He was too tired to count that high.   

“Cut the bullshit, John.  You know when I come here right down to the fucking second, and what I’m here for.”  He smiled slightly, giving John a glimpse at the beauty that was rarely seen by anyone in the last few months.

“Well then get your skinny ass in here, we wouldn’t want the neighbors to think some sort of illegal activity was conspiring in this respectable building.”  He smiled at the boy, still teetering in the abandoned hallway.  Upon closer inspection, the boy looked like he was caught in the headlights of a truck heading at him doing ninety-nothing.  John could always sense his utter discomfort when he came to him and would try all the time that Justin was there, to get him to open up a little.  His work was cut out for him today.

“No, we wouldn’t want that.”  Justin took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The apartment was beautiful, at least to Justin.  It only had a few staple pieces. There were large life paintings scattered across the deco walls, and it actually had a warm color scheme to it.  To Justin it was the illusion of a home that was cherished.  He knew John was wealthy from his drug dealings.  The thrill that went along with it, was no longer there for John.  John wasn’t like the usual dealers; at least that was what Justin thought.  And he only really knew John.  As far as he knew, John never -never- dipped into his stash.  And he didn’t, he had seen the poor souls that would grace his doorway looking for a fix, John wasn’t exactly an upstanding person, a likeable guy, a chummy mate, John was well…John, but he still knew better.  What Justin didn’t know about John was that he was on an eleven-year writer’s binge, which was until recently looking like it would never go away.  John had now seen his inspiration.

John actually felt pretty sorry for the unfortunates that he did regular business with, especially the kid with the blonde mop and the once vibrant – now hollow looking blue eyes.  He often wondered when Justin was there with him, what kind of life the boy had before he had turned to this sort of existence.  Was he loved?  Maybe too much?  Maybe not enough?  John didn’t think he would ever really find out what was going on in those once brilliant eyes.  The kid was sadness walking, and even John knew that if this kid could get out and stay out that he would be destined for greatness.  The way he walked.  Yeah, that was it.  He knew he was better than all this.  The way he would hold his head up high when he walked through his door, putting on that brave façade.  It didn’t matter, though; he was still trapped in the web, tired of pulling at the resistance of it, lulled by a lonely spider.  The spider, well, that was another story.  That kid, what was his name? Ethan?  Yeah.  John had hated doing business with that kid.  Ethan and his superior attitude showing up on his doorstep looking for a fix, coming at all hours in the night.  He liked Justin much better.  But, he did not like Justin with Ethan.  Justin had missed one of their visits together, run out of money or something.  Of course, John would have done him a favor…for a favor.  But, they declined and Justin said he would be back in two weeks.  When he did come back, the bruises were still there.  He was too tired to cover up the violence of the previous week to hide them from John.  And Justin was pretty sure that John knew about Ethan’s vicious tendencies, so he was glad when John had ignored the limp and the bruises on his face.  He didn’t want anyone’s pity.  

But, Justin was awe-struck at John’s proposal.  Not only a favor, John was offering Justin to stay with him, to be his live-in muse.  Justin had seriously considered it for a moment before laughing it off and shrugging his shoulders.  But, he had that moment, he had shrugged and laughed but he wondered secretly if a life with John was what it would take for him to really waste away. To finally finish this game he had no intention on playing anymore.       

“Hey, Justin, you alright over there?”  John watched the boy at the window.  The shades had all been lifted, after Justin had so graciously asked John’s permission.  John would always drag out the time when the boy came, for obvious reasons, but even though the boy was dull on the outside now, if John looked hard enough or actually barely at all, he could catch a glimpse of what Justin use to be.  He was looking at it right now.  Justin had been standing at that window for about thirty minutes now and absolute silence had enveloped him.  For the first time in a long time, the apartment was flooded with light, so much so, that John had to squint when it first reached him.  He was not accustomed to the light after so long its’ absence. Justin had stood there, drinking it all in with an expert artist’s eye, desperately wishing for some sort of way to capture how beautiful and desolate the city looked.  His eyes gazed over everything that was moving below the high tower that John called his home.  He could see a very familiar building reaching up towards the heavens, his breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes for a moment.  He regained his composure and looked past all the buildings and could see the sun shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky.  He could hear all the cars and the motion down below on the street.  He could close his eyes and see it still, hear it still, feel the cold trying to break through the glass, feel the cold that was already there.  It was settled somewhere between his heart and his stomach and it had been there for some time.  Justin was starting to get a feel for it, now.  It was slowly becoming a part of him and he counted the days until he wouldn’t be able to feel it quite so well.  Maybe that was the price to pay for this grand squander.

“Yeah.  Hey, John, you got any paper or pencils or anything?”  John thought it was an odd request but complied.  He moved to his desk and shifted all the unlined paper he had tried to use to somehow bring an end to this untimely writer’s block.  He found a couple of sheets and a pen full of ink that had yet to be wasted on his mindless doodling.

“Here.”  John handed it to him slowly.  The boy’s hand came out, steady and sure, and took the sheets and pen that John had given him, like it was the world’s finest art supplies.

“Thanks.”  The boy slumped down, knees drawn in a makeshift easel, and then preceded to scratch furiously on the paper.  John shook his head and went back to the tedious process of cutting up the pure white powder.  Every now and then he would catch a glimpse of himself in that cloudy mirror.  His eyes would then go naturally to the boy, huddled up on the floor of his apartment.  That kid, he thought with finality, deserved better than this.


The sun was on it’s last leg, its’ final trek to the hazing horizon soon coming to an end.  It was beautiful now, the sky a swirling mass of pink, purple, and black.  The yonder twilight within reach, and the glorious moon beckoning everyone with it’s luminous presence.  And far away on this fast paced planet, with its’ people never stopping, never sleeping, in a struggle to keep living, to keep surviving, John was sitting in the quiet of his apartment.  The window shades that Justin had pulled up had stayed up, and for the first time in a long time, John had enjoyed the light that the sun had brought him.  He sat in his hand-upholstered chair and basked in the glow of it all.  And he still sat there enjoying the cool presence of the moon, the stars, and the crystalline sky.  But, his mind wasn’t on the ravishing heavens.  Justin had called yesterday and scheduled an appointment, a week earlier than expected.  John had the habit, which had been with him since childhood, to always be touching something when he was in deep thought.  And now as he was sitting sunk down in the stylishness of his apartment and his hand was gliding over the unfinished drawing that Justin had made when he was here last.  The drawing was beautiful, the picture of a barren civilization that was just outside his window.  The marks on the paper were more scratches than lines, they were sharp and angular and it somehow didn’t remind him of the beautiful artist that had crouched down in his home.   

The phone conversation had been short and to the point, despite John’s best attempts to keep him on the line.  To be honest, John wasn’t surprised at this turn of events, but he was surprised when the boy had asked him if the offer he had given him several weeks ago was still on the table.  He had said yes and then the boy had promptly hung up on him.  There was really no need in discussing anything else, and as long as John had known the boy, he had always been to the point.  Maybe that was the reason the boy had him so fascinated.  John had gotten a bemused look on his face after Justin had hung up with him and it was still settled there now.  Now this was very interesting and as John sat in the light of the moon, he contemplated what was going on in his own little ray of sunshine’s head.

It was official they had no money now.  None.  They had been prudent in their money saving, until Ethan’s hunger had returned in its fury and he demanded to be satisfied.  Justin was starting to get used to the absolute filth and degradation of the apartment and it’s inhabitants and stopped comparing it to the stylish simplicities he was accustomed to.  He could not go back to his mother’s, even if he wanted to.  Or anyplace else he had once considered a home.  He was afraid that they couldn’t handle what they saw in him and he was sure that they would take one look at him and ask who was he.  And he did think that he had changed a lot in the past months, he didn’t exactly know how many it had been because he stopped counting.  He had stopped counting the days that he had spent in the tiny apartment with a man out of habit, instead of love.  But, it never really was love with this one after all, maybe more of a convenience.  Still the boy wasn’t so sure of the ‘love’ thing anymore.  Maybe it was just some elaborate hoax after all.  Marketed and packaged for the world to embrace with open arms.  This was their salve, their redemption to a life that had given them nothing but hurdles and mile long jumps.  He was having trouble swallowing it with every passing day.  He could always use his time here for an example of what happens when you think love is real; even if it wasn’t really love.  At least with him anyway.  Further proof of said non-love was when the man had asked him to give himself to the drug dealer.  And now that the boy had had enough of love, he decided he would.  Justin didn’t really care after all, and the man didn’t either.  Justin didn’t really need all the convincing the man had put forth, he had merely acknowledged the man’s statements with a firm nod of his head, like Ethan was talking about his new masterpiece instead of trying to convince Justin to whore himself for Ethan’s benefit.  To Ethan it was like living with a ghost.  Justin was never really there, not in his bed, not in his apartment, not on his fucking planet.  That kid was somewhere else.  And Ethan had a pretty good idea where it was.

It was in this far away, barren state that the boy had given up on school and got a job working nights to pay for the apartment and the man.  His mother was outraged, and there was really no explanation he could have offered her, the other’s were disappointed.  A silent shell shock befell those who had heard the news of the very talented artist giving up on his life dream. No words could be uttered that he would really listen to, so they waited until the time was right to set the young man on his path again.  Justin figured he really didn’t need to be a graduate to be an artist anyway.  What could they possibly teach him he couldn’t learn himself?  They needed the money more than he needed an education.  He had to pay for Ethan’s inspiration as well; after all, they did want him to succeed.  The boy was tired all the time now, having to drag himself up from the cocoon of warmth and oblivion to work into the wee hours of the night.  He was tired of putting all this effort out and not getting anything in return.  In fact, he was just tired.  But, the boy figured it would soon be much better.  

He was leaving the violin player, this time physically, and would really take the drug dealer up on his offer.  If he really was going to waste away, he might as well do it right.
  

He moved cautiously around the confined apartment, careful not to wake the sleeping man.  Justin had very few possessions that he was willing to take along with him, anyway, the less the better.  Everything that was his life was filled into a small battered backpack that would probably not survive the next time he decided to pick up and leave.  He chanced a last glance what had been his home, and he really couldn’t recall any distinct memories that he could pull up and cherish.  He sighed and laid a steady hand on the worn out doorknob.  Ethan would awaken several hours later, alone and with a hunger and a rage that would consume him until he met up with the blonde again.  

The walk to John’s apartment had never gone by so fast before.  Very few people took notice of him on this cold morning.  The city was circling past him at an above average pace, and he walked like he was a new man in a new place, with a new start.  Not a new start, though, a new end.  This was his fate and he was taking it one small step at a time.