#jpinkmanbtch

HE’S HERE AGAIN. It’s not uncommon, really, for him to find himself jolted awake to the smell of vomit and then to stumble upon her corpse, again, and be unable to save her, again. His mind sends him back to this room frequently. The yellow sheets make him feel sick, and to this day he can’t stand the color yellow because of it, but he’s here again, and it doesn’t surprise him. 

This time, though, Jake can see himself there, curled in on himself and sobbing. That’s strange. Usually he’s alone in the room with the corpse of his dead love and there’s nothing beyond the room, but he can see the adobe wall outside, see out the hallway into the living room. 

And then Jake realizes that if he reaches out, he can touch the wall, touch the floor, littered with debris and used needles. 

     “... Yo,”

His voice is much more shaky than he means it to be.

it’s a quiet suburban afternoon and flynn is bored, he sits on the couch flipping through the cable channels, AC blasting in order to combat the dense albuquerque heat. there’s nothing good on, but at least his parents aren’t home, which means he can do as he pleases and not have anybody bother him. 

he’s contemplating retreating to his room in favor of video games when the doorbell rings --- quickly followed by a few harsh knocks on the door. he grabs his crutches that were set beside him and raises from his seat. flynn makes his way to the door quickly, and swings it open.