blood in the water ;

KIT TAYLOR - INTRODUCTION

–

Sawyer hated hospitals. Between the too bright lights and the way the smell of the antiseptic burned his nostrils in a dire attempt to flush out the stench of death, the biker had never been able to relax within their walls. Over the years, he’d done his best to try and avoid them, but time and circumstances always seemed to pull him right back in. Like gravity. Tonight, he found himself at Kit’s bedside— a perch he’d only left a handful of times since his best friend had first been admitted. Exhaustion weighed heavy on his eyelids as he sat slouched in a chair, the cup of coffee in his hand still untouched. In the last couple hours that he’d been sitting there, Sawyer hadn’t resurfaced from the endless swell of his thoughts long enough to take one sip. Instead, his gaze lingered on Kit and the collection of cuts and bruises that dappled his skin, but it was the wounds that Sawyer couldn’t see that troubled the biker the most.

Kit had nearly been killed. Sawyer had needed his girlfriend to translate the more gory details to him, but even without Remi’s expertise, he’d known it was bad. But what Sawyer was most concerned about was where his best friend, his brother for all intents and purposes, went from here. It was no secret that Kit had been on a collision course lately, with all signs pointing towards something like this. And Sawyer had bailed on him. Guilt rose up from the center of his chest as Kit stirred, finally breaking the silence that had settled in the small hospital room. Despite the sour feeling pooling in his gut, Sawyer managed a brief yet strained smile, “Yeah, thanks for that,“ he muttered, eyeing him, “Took about ten years off my life pullin’ this kinda bullshit on me, man.” Though he’d said it mostly in jest, Sawyer couldn’t deny that there was a good deal of truth behind his words. His worry had been eating him alive from the moment he’d gotten the call. Setting his cold coffee aside, Sawyer scoffed quietly beneath his breath, “One hell of a way to find out I was your emergency contact.”

×

“Yeah? Took about fifteen years off mine so I’d say we’re even.” Kit tried to laugh but his battered and bruised lungs made it sound like a strained wheeze. Throughout their 16 year friendship, the amount of trouble the two had gotten into had been limitless. Although it seemed the deeper they got into the club, the worse that trouble became. Sawyer ending up with a criminal record and five years in prison under his belt, and now Kit had just about managed to step around his death bed. Kit didn’t like to linger on the thought of knowing that had Andy not been driving by just at the right time, Kit’s injuries would’ve been a hell of a lot worse. Sober or not, he would’ve never stood a chance against five men. Maybe the likes of Wyatt and Sawyer would’ve been able to put up a strong enough fight, but Kit had only ever stepped foot into No Names so he could hit on the women coming out of yoga class. 

“Yeah well I had to get your attention again somehow after you stormed outta my place.” Kit joked - again. His apartment had been eerily quiet ever since Sawyer had left, causing Kit to throw small parties and invite over guests just to fill that void. Although he supposed it had hurt even more when Sawyer hadn’t come back, he had chosen to stay angry, and Kit had chosen to stay bitter. “M’surprised you came.” he confessed, knowing that Sawyer could’ve very well used this as a ‘told you so’ moment and a good enough reason to cut ties with someone as chaotic and self-sabotaging as Kit. “M’glad you came, though. ‘Cause one of those nurses is real fuckin’ scary.” he exhaled a smile, although truthfully that wasn’t the reason at all. Kit had hoped that Sawyer’s presence meant the two men could go back to being brothers again, because nothing had felt right since Sawyer had quite rightfully walked away.

♥

Of course her brother would still be Kit’s emergency contact so of course she knew not long after Sawyer did. Kit was pretty much a honorary member of the Graves family after all these years. So Jodie didn’t even hesitate to come to the hospital when she found out he got hurt, which was a huge understatement she would come to realize when they let her in to visit him. They told he was in and out of it so she sat down in a chair and tried to make herself comfortable. After a couple minutes, however, her foot was already bouncing. She wasn’t the most at ease in hospitals, even decades later. The second he blinked, she sat up and looked over him. Kit’s words caused a quick exhale from her nose. “I’m going to be honest,” she attempted a smile, knowing her eyes always gave away when she was worried, “You’ve looked better.”

She scooted the chair closer to his hospital bed, not sure how long he’d be awake but wanting to offer him any kind of comfort she could. “But I think your face will heal so…,” she cleared her throat softly, “You’ll still have that going for you at least.” It would be a lie to say she hadn’t been worrying about him since the last time she saw him, when he couldn’t even open his own door. “What happened, Kit?” she asked him, her voice getting softer as her hand reached out to lightly rest on his.

×

“Impossible,” Kit swallowed thickly. “I’m at the prime of my life.” his lips twitched into a hint of a smile. Even at his lowest, he still had some of his characteristic humour left in him. It had been how he managed all these years to cope with all the shit happening in his life, just crack a joke and smile. “Could you uh- grab me some water, please?” he croaked, swallowing again with a gentle frown, unsure of how long he had been out that time. His body still screeched like metal grinding and his bones ached like shattered glass, and so he lay there hopelessly. 

For a moment, he blinked at Jodie’s question, refusing to make eye contact. Because truthfully, Kit was embarrassed. It wasn’t as if he put up his best fight and came out look worse for wear, he had ultimately given up and fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Although he knew soon enough word would get out, and he’d rather Jodie know the truth than hear a twisted story from someone else. “I was walkin’ home from The Dive when I got jumped by a bunch of guys.” it was reassuring at least that Kit hadn’t been targeted by the Rogues. “Said somethin’ about one of their kids overdosin’ on some drugs we sold ‘em and just started beatin’ the shit outta me. Woulda’ be left for dead had Andy not been there.”  

It had been a couple days since Kit had been admitted to hospital, and as far as he was aware, he was showing no signs of being fit for release. From what he could remember, at the very least his ribs had been broken and his lungs were bruised, causing his laboured breathing. He’d had a spot of internal bleeding that they wanted to keep a check on and hopefully avoid surgery. Not to mention the split lip, swollen eye, and array of bruises upon his face making him look like Frankenstein’s new monster. 

The elephant in the room though, and probably the one that Kit one the most embarrassed about, was his fairly obvious drug addiction. The doctors and nurses had picked up on it almost immediately after the first round of test results came back, and the first few days had been rough to say the least. They had sedated him to help ease the withdrawal process, but that didn’t stop the vivid and horridly unpleasant dreams creeping into his mind each time he tried to sleep, causing them to place him in soft restraints - for their safety and his. 

So it was safe to say Kit was sitting uncomfortably at rock bottom, his eyes barely open as he listened to the buzz from the TV of some dull daytime TV show. “Welcome to my humble abode.” he mumbled, not even turning his head to greet the person who had stepped inside his room. 

@jodiexgraves​

In the first 24 hours of Kit’s hospital admittance, he had seen such a whirlwind of faces that he wasn’t sure if half of them had been real or figments of his imagination. For the briefest of seconds he had been awake, he knew at least that Sawyer had been sitting beside his bed, although the only other times he had woken up was when a nurse or doctor had snuck inside to check his stats. This time though the beeping of the machines had lulled Kit awake like waves lapping up onto the shore, and for the first time since his arrival, he could actually feel the sunlight stark upon his eyelids.

He blinked awake, confusion slapping him each time he stared blankly around the room as he pieced together where he was and why. Each time the crushing reminder that he could’ve been left for dead in that alleyway thanks to his addiction, if Andy hadn’t been there. “Do I look as bad as I feel? ‘Cause I feel like a hot sack of shit.” Kit wondered as he dared to move his face an inch to the right, a weak smile twitching the corners of his mouth.

@sawyergraves​

Images of how Kit had found himself lying in a hospital bed flashed before his eyes, and if he forced himself awake long enough, he could just about piece it all together. Andy had somehow been there and helped Kit get to the hospital, where he was hurriedly swept away in a flurry of medical staff. Kit had woken up only a handful of times since then, all of them sporadic and drastically short before his heavy eyelids clamped shut again. All he could remember was the excruciating pain which had now thankfully dulled from all the meds the machines were pumping through him.

Each time his eyes briefly fluttered open, Kit caught sight of a figure sat beside him but he couldn’t quite make out who it was. This time though, he forced his eyes to peak open to confirm his suspicions before they fell shut again from exhaustion. “They must’ve given me some real crazy meds,” Kit’s voice was tired and raspy, it almost didn’t even sound like his own. “’Cause I can hear you frownin’.”

Truthfully, Kit wasn’t a thought in Andy’s mind over the last few months. He was still a pain in the ass and the two hadn’t settled anything, but it became second nature for them to both ignore and/or dodge the other. It’s routine by this point, with Kit no longer being bold enough to push back against the club. Or at least, not in front of Andy. He’d be liar if he said he didn’t miss his friend, as well as the one person from Rowan’s family that didn’t detest him — But he’d thankfully had the distraction of four children, a move, Reina’s recovery, and his own struggle to remain sober over the last few months to keep his mind off the topic. He’d seen Kit in passing mostly – The other man only seems half present these days, but then again Andy wasn’t exactly sure what was going on in his day to day. 

Andy’s night at been spent at the auto shop, working late figuring out the rattling noise his bike had been making all week – It was a nice distraction, something to keep him occupied for a few hours before heading home. Forcing himself to pause when the front desk girl began to close up, he took the tow truck home for the evening, despite knowing that Rowan will lecture him about how unsafe the car is in the morning. At a red light, he starts a text to his wife – One to let her know he’ll be home soon for bath and bed time, so that she’s not stuck putting all of the kids to bed on her own. That had been the plan, at least. 

He spots a few guys to his right, in some alley between building. Normally Andy wouldn’t think much of it – Olympus was a pretty violent place, and he wasn’t going to stick his neck out for some idiot who was probably getting what was coming to them. That was, however, all under the notion that he didn’t notice the leather cut on the man in questions back once he doubled over and landed in the view of the street light. Eyes rolled at the sight, grumbling profanities under his breath as he put the truck in park. Even if it was inconvenient, he wasn’t going to leave a club member to get their asses handed to them – Clearly, this guy wasn’t going to win this fight. He quickly typed out a message to Rowan: Gonna be late. I’ll call in a minute and explain. before pocketing his phone and hopping out of the tow truck. The guys beating up the man didn’t pay his much mind, at least giving Andy an element of surprise. 

The closer her got to the scene, the quicker he realized who was getting his ass kicked – Kit. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him, but his jaw tensed and hand instinctively reached for the gun tucked in his waistband. Kit was a fucking idiot in his book, but that didn’t mean Andy was interested in letting him die in the street – Or pass out in an alley until some poor schmuck found him the next morning about to choke on his own blood. “Hey,” he called out, pulling his gun out to fire three warning shots into the air above them, managing to scare off all but one of the attackers – Andy grabbed him by the back of his collar, forcefully yanking him away from Kit before shoving him in the opposite direction. “Piece of shit,” he spit at him as the man ran off, while Andy tucked his gun back into the waistband of his pants. Turning his attention back to Kit, he grimaced, squatting down to his former friend’s level. “Hey, jackass – You hear me?” He tests first, moving to try and get his friend back on his feet. “C’mon, man. Get on your feet.” Andy continues, knowing he’s not going to make it home anytime soon. 

×

Several times Kit tried to stand or at least get onto his knees, but he felt as if he were falling into quick sand. Foolishly, the man had no form of self defence on his body other than his own hands. Perhaps he had subconsciously been waiting for such an event to happen just so he could feel something. At times he would feel everything or nothing at all, depending on the level of narcotics burning through his veins. But this was tangible, this he knew was real, and not something his brain has conjured up. Kit’s mind willed himself to fight, but his body couldn’t keep up. He felt as if he were two seconds behind and every swing of his fist felt sloppy and uncalculated. Granted it was five men against one, but they always seemed to have one up on him and it wasn’t long until he felt his fire to survive whither away into ashes. 

Time felt as if it had slowed as Kit hit the floor for the final time, dismally accepting his fate and waiting for the beating to be over. Maybe he deserved it, maybe this was sweet sweet karma for all the shit he had put his friends through over the past few months. Another kick to the abdomen, another punch to the jaw. There was blood from something somewhere, and Kit felt a surging pain in his side that was only worsened by another brute force. He silently begged to slip away into unconsciousness, knowing that way it would be over soon a whole lot quicker. His vision began to blur as his surroundings felt dizzying, but with three harsh bullets piercing the air, Kit fiercely blinked himself awake, wondering if that was his saviour or just someone coming to finish the job.

Any other time, the sight of Andy would cause Kit’s stomach to turn and he would immediately find the closest exit. But in the situation he had found himself in, Andy’s presence brought about a wave of relief. Everything was going to be alright. He was a man who held grudges - clearly - but he had never been a man to turn his back on the club or its members, regardless of the strains between them. Although Andy was more than a club member to Kit, he was family, and Kit hoped that had also influenced the man’s decision to step in. Knowing that the men were hastily fleeing the scene, Kit’s head fell back against the floor as he closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around his torso as if he were holding himself together.

“Yeah, you look it.” The sarcasm was hard to miss in the brunettes retort. Amo wouldn’t lie to him. She’d seen him at his best and now at his worst and while it didn’t change the knot that formed in her stomach in close proximities, it caused a feeling of concern she rarely felt with him. Worry wasn’t a norm for them. They knew with their line of work that it did nothing in the grand scheme of things and it’s what made it so easy for her. She knew Kit had his shit together, except for now of course when he finally looked at her for the first time since they’d started counts. 

Brows knitted together when she pushed off the wall, hands now at each hip as she approached where he stood. “Now when you say ‘party’, what kind of partying do you mean, exactly? Because when I party, I can usually get up and handle my shit with precision the next day. You used to too, so we must be talking about two different things then.”  Amo felt like a cop the way she spoke to him, just wanting to hear him admit what she feared about him so she could help. She never wanted to see him struggling, though he might have thought different with the way she ended things. “The fuck if I don’t. Look at you, Kit. You haven’t been off on a count since the day we started working together and now you fumble eight kilos? Chale guey.” The words on her native tongue were spoken with a huff and she ran a hand through her hair. “If you don’t want to tell me then don’t, but don’t show up here looking like Frank fucking Gallagher, trying to mess up everything we’ve worked so hard to maintain. That kind of shit will get us killed and I care too much about your dumbass to let that happen.” It killed her to speak to him so sternly, especially when the default was laced with childish giggles and taunting whispers, but she had to. Their normal demeanor wouldn’t fly right now.

×

He didn’t want to fall out with her. They had survived a whirlwind of love followed by an earthquake of a breakup, and that hadn’t managed to push them to opposite sides of the room. They had somehow managed to salvage their work relationship and Kit had found a way to forget that he thought about Amorita every other second of the day for the sake of her business and his. Kit hadn’t fallen out with her then, and he wasn’t about to fall out with her now. Even if she was making it real hard for him. “I know, god damnit. I know.” he hadn’t realised that his fingers had balled into a fist until he slammed them down onto the table in frustration. “Fuck.” Kit groaned under his breath as he walked away, pacing back and forth while he flexed out his hand.

He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t felt so on edge. Well, except from when he was high. Although when he was high he didn’t feel much at all other than the exhilaration and rush. “Look, I slipped on a couple kilos. It ain’t a big deal, Amo.” Otto would certainly see it as one if Kit didn’t get his shit together, and deep down it was his addiction that he feared the most - it was Otto’s wrath if he was to ever find out how much Kit was royally fucking up. “Would you just fuckin’ relax? I’m just tryna get a grip on this hangover and the last thing I need is you hot on my ass. We drank a little, did a couple lines, shit got messy.” he shrugged as if it really was that simple. Only that’s what he had been doing continuously for months now. “Would’ya quit bustin’ my balls now?” Amorita’s concern for him would have usually caused his stomach to flutter with a stupid grin on his face, but now it was making him feel hot and clammy. What he once would view as caring and perhaps a glimmer of their shaky past breathing back to life, now felt overbearing and intrusive. He was still living and breathing, so everything was fine.

Closed starter for @kitaylcr​

Thin black lines struck through the itemized list as Amo looked over the shipment. A process that had been done a million times before with Kit by her side, yet this time was noticeably different. Their typically drawn out quips seemed to set at double speed and before long, she found herself working at the rushed pace he had been. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to mask the telltale signs. Maybe he’d forgotten that addiction wasn’t anything new to her, and she’d dealt with enough people high on their own supply to know to look for the needlepoint pupils she found when glancing over at him. There was so much attention being paid to his current state that she nearly missed the undercounted product.

“C'mon, K, you can’t be skipping over shit like this,” Irritation was thick in her voice as she looked back at him with squinted eyes. “It’s not like you to fuck up like that… Are you good?” A pointless question when she already knew the answer. Even if it wasn’t as obvious as he was making it she probably would have known. He was the only other person aside from her father that she knew better than she knew herself. The nights and days spent studying every violence-inflicted mark on his skin, every wave that crashed within his oceanic eyes. She knew him, even if he didn’t want her to. “You know you can talk to me, chulito. What the fuck is going on?” Folding her arms loosely across her mid-section, she leaned back on one of the four walls that surrounded them waiting an answer that’d most likely be a lie.

×

For more than the obvious reasons, Kit wanted to get his work with Amorita over and done with as quickly as possible. He was aware that he probably wasn’t looking his best - he was wearing last night’s clothes, he had been flittering around the room, noticeably hot and bothered and there was a tell-tale drop of blood on the hem of his shirt from his nose bleed that morning. Amorita had seen him stripped down to not a single thread upon his back, sharing starved moments of heated intimacy that he had played back and forth in his mind. But she had never seen him like this... And that was what had him rushing through their counts, his shaking hands fumbling with the new shipment like he was a newbie who was too scared to look her in the eye. Kit had tried to retain some of his former self, his bubbly personality that had people rolling their eyes and calling him an idiot. But now all he felt was their concerned gaze, and he knew Amorita could see straight through his weak façade. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” the back of his hand wiped across his brow as he shakily inhaled, knowing that his significant lack of sleep certainly wasn’t doing him any favours. He was digging himself an early grave, but that was the thing about addictions, you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. At her question, Kit stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. Although he wasn’t sure if she was concerned because her job relied on him doing his job, or if there were still some residual feelings tucked away. “Went out partyin’ last night and things got a little crazy. You know how it goes.” well Kit wasn’t lying, he just wasn’t telling the whole truth. “I’m good, you ain’t gotta worry about me.” he reassured, although he knew his antics were becoming harder and harder to brush aside.

WITH: @andythane

It wasn’t the first night this week and it certainly wouldn’t be the last that Kit found himself stumbling out the doors of The Dive. He had spent the evening searching for Bowie’s attention, knowing that if anyone could put a stupid smile on his face, it would be them. But to no avail, Kit hadn’t found them. And so instead, what he had found was a private room with a couple of dancers and a little plastic bag to share between them. With a couple drinks in his system, this definitely seemed to have perked up Kit’s mood, and had invited the girls back after closing time for a little after party. Although this had the man scurrying out to pick up more of that sweet sweet powder they were all so fond of.

The moon was already high up in the sky, its perfect circular shape hazed out by blankets of clouds and the cold November air caused Kit to shove his hands into his pockets. On second thought - he was going to take a short cut home. It was sketchy, but then what part of Olympus wasn’t sketchy? It was a dark and long alleyway, one that Kit had no problem stumbling down as he hummed a song to keep himself company. 

He hadn’t noticed the men following behind him until he heard one of them cough, causing him to half glance backwards. In the corner of his eye, Kit caught only two men. But he shrugged it off, maybe they were taking a short cut home too. But then the sound of boots scuffing against the ground up ahead caused Kit to glance upwards, counting another three. Suddenly they stopped and Kit huffed a curse word as he knew something real sketchy was beginning to take form. He stopped a few feet away, giving a tentative look behind him to see the two men had closed in on him too. 

“Whatever this is, I ain’t interested.” Kit called out, raising his hands in surrender. “You’ll be interested to know that your fuckin’ drugs gave my kid an overdose, you piece of shit.” one of the masked men grunted. “Don’t know what you’re on about - I’m an accountant.” Kit shoved his hands in his pockets again and tried to force his way past the human barricade, his shoulder harshly barging into one of the men. Although Kit didn’t get chance to take another step as the masked man swung a heavy punch into Kit’s stomach, causing him to double over with a loud groan, his knees slamming into the ground as his hands barely fumbled from his pockets.

♥ 

After finally sitting down and talking about the things that been unspoken for five years between her brother and her, things were starting to feel a little bit more normal. It wasn’t all perfect but it was a start. After confessing what was probably the thing she felt the worst about keeping from him, there was a kind of weight lifted from her shoulders. She figured that today she’d surprise him, maybe order some pizza and have a beer like they use to do regularly. She was not expecting to see Kit leaning against his door when she came up the stairs. He looked a little rough than she was use to seeing him. “Oh,” she looked down at his hand and noticed that the key was upside down.

“Let me try?” she reached down and gently pulled the key from his hand, flipping some loose hair over her shoulder. Turning the key the right way and aligning it with the lock, she unlocked the door and turned the knob for him. Just in case. “I know, I’m a miracle worker,” she teased a little, recognizing that Kit was probably not sober right now. She looked down the hall and then back at him, “Well since Sawyer isn’t here - You want to maybe order a pizza and have a beer with me?” The blonde gave a small shrug. Her and Kit had hung out plenty of times during Sawyer’s absence. It was only because of the shift in her relationship with her brother that she stopped seeing Kit as much, considering they lived together. “It’s on me,” she offered with a small smile.

×

Dutifully, Kit allowed Jodie to take the key from his hand as he stepped aside with a sigh of defeat. Nothing in his life seemed to be going to plan at the moment and he didn’t even know how he was managing to keep his head above the water. Surely by now Otto had noticed something strange with his dealer supervisor, and yet he hadn’t interjected yet. Either the man was too busy, or he simply didn’t care. Kit wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. “Oh my god.” the tension released in his neck as he dropped his head low with a sigh. “’Cause I was startin’ to worry that I’d have to break down the door myself.” Kit admitted with a smile, a hand moving to his hip as the other wiped his brow. Just one look at the man and you would no he was in no shape to break down a door.

“Y’know what? You’re on.” Kit stepped inside his apartment, stepping around the door so he could shut it after Jodie. He quickly scurried past her, scooping up rubbish and empty beer bottles to put them in the bin as he turned to look at her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry - I uh, wasn’t expectin’ guests.” Kit fluffed up the couch cushions and hid away his weed stash in the closest cupboard. “You wanna watch a movie? I’m feelin’ some kinda rom-com, somethin’ like Crazy Stupid Love or... Pretty Woman!” he clicked his fingers triumphantly. “Although whatever happens within these walls, stays within these walls.” Kit suddenly turned serious, although a hint of a smile teased the corners of his mouth. “’Cause that shit will for sure ruin my street cred.”

➖

YAS had received a text from Kit indicating that he might need something from her. Which meant she’d have to share a little bit. The brunette was able to sway some of her clients into giving her a little bit of what they’d bought so she got more for her own stash without having to dip into the money that was meant to go into Kit’s pocket. A rule he’d put in place when she was first hired. Opening the door, she looked up at Kit and smiled. “Sorry, I’m late, babe.” She’d told him she would be here an hour ago but that was her mistake for thinking she could work around her clients schedule. “You coming down or what? You look flushed.” She reached into her pocket and tossed him a baggie as he seemed like he needed it. “That’s for the both of us so don’t get greedy.” She walks in further, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hopefully Sawyer has been restocking the beer. You got one?”

×

Kit moved slower, trying not to look too eager, but he wasn’t sure just how well he was hiding his addiction anymore. It had hit him like a tidal wave and without realising, he had fallen into a quick spiral of either being high, or chasing the next high. It had been an ugly transition, but one he didn’t have enough energy to fight. “Oh so we’re havin’ a party?” Kit quipped with a coy smile as he swiftly caught the tiny bag. He made quick work of the lines and hardly took a moment to breathe until he got his next fix. “I’ll take a beer.” Kit raised his head, rubbing his nose slightly. He crossed the kitchen to stand behind Yasmine, his hands coming to her waist as he gently nipped at the crook of her neck. “Thank you.” Kit murmured quietly before stepping back and plucking the beer from her hand. “How’s the new job treatin’ you?” he wondered aloud as he casually leant against the kitchen counter.

–

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sawyer managed to muffle the soft curse that left his lips as Kit tried to explain what happened. He couldn’t help but think that his best friend was sugarcoating the shit out of it, especially after what he’d heard down at the station. “That right?” He questioned, busying himself with fixing a cup of coffee to avoid meeting Kit’s gaze, “‘cause I heard ya were blitzed outta your fuckin’ mind.” While he’d never been one to chat up the local law, he couldn’t help but be subjected to a few bits and pieces of Kit’s wild night when he’d gone to pick him up. What Kit was describing only told a hint of the real story. Noting the way his best friend’s leg bounced with more energy than the goddamn Energizer Bunny, Sawyer’s stomach suddenly sank. It was too familiar. He’d seen it so many times before when his mother had come down from one of her mindless benders and found herself starving for another hit. Seeing it again in someone he cared so deeply for sent a shockwave through his system— a shockwave of anger, helplessness, and fear. Because he’d never quite figured out how to help Diana, or at least how to get her to stop before she sent herself on her own crash course. If he couldn’t stop his own mother from destroying herself, how was he supposed to stop Kit?

But his thoughts stalled suddenly, temporarily cast aside the moment Kit compared their situations. Sawyer’s temper flared beneath the surface of his skin like a low glowing ember, smoldering and ready for something to stoke it. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to change the goddamn subject and don’t try and turn this shit around on me,” he warned sharply, stabbing a finger in the open air between them, “If anythin’, I thought ya woulda learned somethin’ from my royal fuck up.” Shaking his head, Sawyer set his coffee aside, no longer interested in it. “You’re better than this shit, man,” he muttered, eyeing Kit and wishing he’d said something sooner. “Supposed to be, anyway. Right now, I’m not sure what the fuck you are.”

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“C’mon man,” Kit groaned as he leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes squeezing shut briefly. “You say that like I’m the first one in this fuckin’ town to have a little too much blow.” he suddenly leaned his body forwards, his fingers scrambling for the packet of cigarettes on the table just to give him something to keep his mind occupied until Sawyer was finished breathing down his neck. “We’re all hooked on somethin’ to make us feel god damn alive.” he grumbled, the unlit cigarette hanging limply between his lips as he searched for a lighter. “This is my fuckin’ job, ain’t it? Gotta test the products before we send ‘em out.” Kit finally rose to his feet, casting a devilish smirk to his friend. That was a desperately poor excuse for Kit’s new addiction, especially considering he had been the dealer supervisor for six years now and not once had he delved into the lifestyle as much as he did now.

“You’re not listenin’.” Kit’s interest in the cigarette had waned as he tucked it behind his ear. “I was at The Dive,” although he made sure to leave out the part where he was having a coke party with a bunch of dancers in one of the private rooms. “I went outside for a cigarette. Some pig saw me. He slapped some cuffs on me and called it a day.” Kit’s palm jabbed the air to emphasise his points. “I didn’t leave a guy for dead at the side of the road so would’ya gimme a fuckin’ break?” shakily, he raked a hand through his hair, the cigarette behind his ear tumbling to the floor. “Fuck.” Kit sighed, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “You wanna know what I am? I am fuckin’ sick and tired of pretendin’ like I’m okay with bein’ beaten into submission. And for what? For the sake of the fuckin’ club that I don’t even wanna be in anymore? We’re murderers, Sawyer. Have you ever actually fuckin’ thought about that?” Kit marched closer to Sawyer, his index finger aggressively stabbing the side of his head. “And y’know what, jokes on me, ay?! ‘Cause the only way I can fuckin’ leave is in a coffin six feet under. I don’t know about you but these shackles are weighin’ me down so forgive me for tryna find a little bit of joy in what I’ve got left. You’ve got Remi, Kali ‘n Javi got each other, Andy’s got Ro. And all I got-” Kit suddenly pushed his way past Sawyer and aggressively threw open a drawer in the kitchen. He desperately rummaged around until he plucked out a small bag of powder. “Is this, keepin’ my head above the water. So would you please get out of my fuckin’ face and leave me alone? Sawyer I ain’t fuckin’ around.” finally, Kit took a shaky exhale as he pressed his palms against the kitchen counter, straightening his arms in front of him as his head hung low.

WHERE: Kit’s apartment WITH: @ysmnetran​

Kit was trying his hardest not to clock watch, but he was anxiously waiting to hear Yasmine’s knock upon the door. His own personal stash of narcotics had ran dry and while he could have gone out himself to get some more, he figured it had been a while since he had seen Yas anyway. Wasn’t it time for her weekly drop off anyway? Either way, the woman left Kit bouncing around his apartment trying to keep himself occupied and his mind entertained while he sat out the storm beginning to cloud over his gaze. He’d move from the kitchen, to the couch, to the table, then back to the kitchen again. Flicking through an old magazine, playing a game on his phone, fidgeting with his grinder - until finally. “Doors open.” Kit called out.

WHERE: Outside Kit’s apartment WITH: @jodiexgraves​

Living on his own again had left Kit realising just how much he had been depending on other people keeping him grounded and occupied. Now that Sawyer was gone thanks to his tantrum, Kit had found himself inviting over people he hardly even knew just so he didn’t have to spend another moment alone with his thoughts. His bed was often kept warm every night, and even when it wasn’t, he was too high to even realise. 

His days had become somewhat disorganised now though, and Kit was finding more and more often that he had very little interest or motivation in doing anything until he’d had his fix. He had fallen into quicksand, and everywhere he looked there was no one in sight. That was until now though, when he had been helplessly trying to shove what was clearly the wrong key into his door. “Come on, you fuckin’ piece of shit.” Kit groaned as he rested his forehead against the cool metal door. He heard footsteps trudging up the staircase leading to his apartment, and he didn’t turn to look at them until they’d reached him. “Uh-” he closed his eyes momentarily, swallowing hard. “If you’re lookin’ for your brother, he ain’t here. And when you find him, can you tell him I need his spare key ‘cause I can’t get this fucker to open.”

HONESTY HOUR.

"Well that’s where I’m gonna stop ya. I don’t see my life as criminal. I’m a manager, a salesman, a businessman. What I do is honest work, whether it’s sellin’ cars or sellin’ drugs. We all gotta make a livin’. The only other criminal aspect of my life is the casual murder, which as you can tell, I’m handlin’ that pretty well. Ain’t nobody given me a manual on how to handle this shit, and to be honest, I think I’m doin’ the best I can with bein’ ordered to kill people so, go sit on a fuckin’ cactus and leave me alone.”