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Nov. 4th, 2003 05:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nanowrenletJustin took perverse delight in chain smoking his way through the first pack of cigarettes. It wasn't as if he could get any -more- dead, right? And besides, he was feeling all full-of-freedom at the moment, sitting with his sketchpad on his very own bed in his very own apartment.
Or, rather, his very own mattress on his very own pile of crates in his very own rat hole, all of which he had unofficially inherited from the recently deceased. This had to be the creepiest lifestyle -ever-. He'd griped at first about everything from the smell, to the rickety stairs they'd climbed, to the smell, to the peeling paint, to the smell, to the obviously infested state of the kitchenette, and did he mention the smell? It wasn't even a dead-body smell, it was just... wrong.
Rube had been unsympathetic. He said Justin could get himself some air freshener and, oh yeah, a job if he wanted to keep the place past the end of the month. Or he could take his chances on another "vacancy" later. Rube had been snappish like that ever since the store and Justin knew it was his fault, but he wasn't sure exactly why.
That's sort of what Justin had asked him, while they were standing in line at the checkout. The thought had just popped into his head, and he remembered frowning because this really should have occurred to him earlier, and he had said, "You know, for a dead gay kid you'd never met before last week, you're being awfully nice to me."
Rube had shot him a look. "You're complaining?"
"Well... no, not complaining. Just wondering why, I guess. You told me you're my boss and you have to show me the ropes and all, and I get that, but...." He'd trailed off, and shrugged, and nudged the shopping cart. "You're kinda going above and beyond, and I just wanted to know why."
"I have my reasons." And that was all Rube would say about it, and practically all he'd said the rest of the day. Except for the crack about a job, which Justin knew he'd deserved for being such a whiny little brat.
Justin set his pencil down, stretched his arms up and arched his back with a series of quiet pops. Jesus, he'd completely lost track of time. He had to admit the apartment wasn't -that- bad, once he'd cracked a window open. Sure, it was tiny and pretty dingy-looking and had a lumpy mattress, but it could have been worse. The district was low-rent enough that not only could he maybe actually afford to stay, the landlord probably wouldn't even blink at the sudden change of occupants. Hell, he had the place all to himself and that's more than he could have said in a dorm room.
And plus, it had the coolest little turret window seat, which he suspected would get fantastic light in the mornings. For the time being, he was stuck with just the overhead. It was pretty dim, he'd have to see about getting a floor lamp of some kind if he wanted to draw at night without giving himself a headache. It had served for now, though.
He looked down and added a bit more shading to the sketch in his lap, and declared it done. As best as he could remember, he was looking at the face everybody but another reaper would see when they looked at him.
Not-Justin wasn't exactly -ugly-, just... sort of nothing special anymore. Still blond and blue-eyed, with an... okay smile and an... okay ass. And he -knew- this was bullshit, that he had five million other more important things to be worried about but that didn't make this suck any less.
He thought about the boy he'd seen in the monitor again, the one in his drawing. Brian would never even give that boy the time of day. He might let him suck his dick, though, if it was late or... Justin grimaced and filed that idea under 'Do Not Think About This Ever Again.'
'Unless Maybe You're Really Running Low On Jerk Off Fantasies.' God knows the thought of Brian's cock could get any gay boy hard, even a dead one. And yes, that part was still working just fine.
[Note: yes, I gave dead!Justin Ethan's apartment. Heehee.]
[717/717/7068]
Or, rather, his very own mattress on his very own pile of crates in his very own rat hole, all of which he had unofficially inherited from the recently deceased. This had to be the creepiest lifestyle -ever-. He'd griped at first about everything from the smell, to the rickety stairs they'd climbed, to the smell, to the peeling paint, to the smell, to the obviously infested state of the kitchenette, and did he mention the smell? It wasn't even a dead-body smell, it was just... wrong.
Rube had been unsympathetic. He said Justin could get himself some air freshener and, oh yeah, a job if he wanted to keep the place past the end of the month. Or he could take his chances on another "vacancy" later. Rube had been snappish like that ever since the store and Justin knew it was his fault, but he wasn't sure exactly why.
That's sort of what Justin had asked him, while they were standing in line at the checkout. The thought had just popped into his head, and he remembered frowning because this really should have occurred to him earlier, and he had said, "You know, for a dead gay kid you'd never met before last week, you're being awfully nice to me."
Rube had shot him a look. "You're complaining?"
"Well... no, not complaining. Just wondering why, I guess. You told me you're my boss and you have to show me the ropes and all, and I get that, but...." He'd trailed off, and shrugged, and nudged the shopping cart. "You're kinda going above and beyond, and I just wanted to know why."
"I have my reasons." And that was all Rube would say about it, and practically all he'd said the rest of the day. Except for the crack about a job, which Justin knew he'd deserved for being such a whiny little brat.
Justin set his pencil down, stretched his arms up and arched his back with a series of quiet pops. Jesus, he'd completely lost track of time. He had to admit the apartment wasn't -that- bad, once he'd cracked a window open. Sure, it was tiny and pretty dingy-looking and had a lumpy mattress, but it could have been worse. The district was low-rent enough that not only could he maybe actually afford to stay, the landlord probably wouldn't even blink at the sudden change of occupants. Hell, he had the place all to himself and that's more than he could have said in a dorm room.
And plus, it had the coolest little turret window seat, which he suspected would get fantastic light in the mornings. For the time being, he was stuck with just the overhead. It was pretty dim, he'd have to see about getting a floor lamp of some kind if he wanted to draw at night without giving himself a headache. It had served for now, though.
He looked down and added a bit more shading to the sketch in his lap, and declared it done. As best as he could remember, he was looking at the face everybody but another reaper would see when they looked at him.
Not-Justin wasn't exactly -ugly-, just... sort of nothing special anymore. Still blond and blue-eyed, with an... okay smile and an... okay ass. And he -knew- this was bullshit, that he had five million other more important things to be worried about but that didn't make this suck any less.
He thought about the boy he'd seen in the monitor again, the one in his drawing. Brian would never even give that boy the time of day. He might let him suck his dick, though, if it was late or... Justin grimaced and filed that idea under 'Do Not Think About This Ever Again.'
'Unless Maybe You're Really Running Low On Jerk Off Fantasies.' God knows the thought of Brian's cock could get any gay boy hard, even a dead one. And yes, that part was still working just fine.
[Note: yes, I gave dead!Justin Ethan's apartment. Heehee.]
[717/717/7068]
