art deco

[ • ❅ • ]  If it was his? Oh the kid must be kidding, right? Charlie looked up at the younger male in front of him, “This is mine, god damn it!” He sounded annoyed; it was normal to end up with the heroin seringue clogged up, so they had to fill it with blood and spill it with all pressure they could for a few times, which ended up with a murder scene. “This is all fine, don’t worry.”

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[ • ❅ • ] “Hm...” Was Charlie’s response to the problems the stranger besides him was vomiting on him. That’s one thing about bars, people drink too much, can’t hold their liquours and start telling absolute strangers about their problems. Like they’d care about them. He popped a cigarette between his lips and lit it up, the stranger had followed him all the way out the bar, talking non stop about their family issues. To Charlie. Who was he to give anyone advice on family stuff? 

[ • ❅ • ] It wasn’t like Charlie was the type to speak much, even less to beg for something. But in the current situation he realized he didn’t even have an inch of pride and self-worth inside his body. “I know, I know... It’s absolutely lame and pathetic. But you barely know me so no harm about that, right? You won’t feel awkward neither won’t I. So will you please help me with this?”

[ • ❅ • ]“I swear.” Charlie tried explaining for what seemed like the millionth time in the past five minutes. “I know it seems like a lot of blood but it’s not. And I’m fine.” The blonde repeated himself, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow as his hands rubbed a piece of wet cloth against the cold floor. His clothes had gotten a little stained at that point but honestly, he couldn’t care less.