LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

Supply & Demand. by Iridescents.

The First Hit.

Drugs had always been accessible for me.


Some of them had a slight chance of being tainted with contents that could be classified as lethal to the body, others had a touch not that Midas couldn't even touch. A touch that could drift me off into a temporary existence of nirvana, or to the entering gates of hell on earth. Whichever the choices were made, I always had a great experience with them. My hands would do the disobeying while my mind quietly judges me on my actions from inhaling or injecting the contents into my system. Even if they question the drop of my expectancy or sanity, I wouldn't show a care in the world. Judgement was questionable at best, but, as I said before, I just didn't give a damn.


Well, the only damn that I gave was a guy that I met every other Friday of the week to get my supply of personal needs. Every other day, with the same black hoodie, worn out black jeans with a few chains hanging on the side of his buckle loop (honestly, who wears that anymore?), and the hair-do that gets changed every other week. Finally, he decided on a color other than the usual red. A dark tinted shade of blue that matched nicely with the gel tips. Along with that, the usual stance around the rock lounge. Nothing new, nothing special. Well, other than besides standing out in the crowd that were standing idly to wait on the large amount of the queue that was dwindling down.


"Yo." A familiar voice ran through my hearing as I looked over to the see the guy waving at me, trying to get the attention of a person who was about to take a drag from his half-gone cigarette. Waving back, I approached towards him. Same smirk on his face yet, something reads around his atmosphere that something is about to go unplanned. Nothing bad or anything.


"Miss me?" I gave him the usual smart remark and nudged against his upper arm. He looked at me with one eyebrow raised. Folding his arms, he let out an exaggerated sigh.


"No, Daddy." A feminine tone was wrapped around his reply as he looked back at me again with a face almost resemblance to a child pouting.


"You sound weird as hell saying that." Shaking my head, I slowly dragged out the last bit of my cigarette and outed it with tip of my sneakers. That was the first time I heard him add a bit of humor towards a conversation. Usually it'll be amounts, costs, and confirmations of exchanges and other things but, this, it didn't feel normal. Was it supposed to feel normal? Engaging in a normal conversation with a dealer that I hardly knew other than bringing me products that I familiarized myself with?


"When we first met, we were supposed to agree on code names..." He hinted out.


"And 'Daddy' wasn't on the list of being agreeable." I retorted out in stride. A faint scoffed was from him, knowing full well that I sounded ridiculous.


"Well, then..." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shifted his body to the opposite side of me. "How about 'Shinoda'?"


Shinoda.


It had a special ring to it, almost fitting to a guy with a personality almost fit to an enigma, and clothing wear that shouted out originality. The name sounded foreign-like, maybe due to his heritage or it could be that he was one of those closeted geeks at the clubs during after school. No way, it couldn't be. I can let my mind stay in wonder but, I felt that it was almost inappropriate to ask. Better yet, to be a pain in his ass and ask 'why?'.


And, I didn't.


"It's my last name, if you were wondering." Psychic abilities-acquired.


"Why the last name?" Curiosity was running through my mind like mad. With a simple answer, Shinoda just shrugged and said, "Because you aren't close enough to me to know my given name."


"Well, that's stupid." My faced turned into a frown as I idled around, not being able to keep put in my resting spot.


"In Japanese culture, it isn't." Showing a small smirk, he then explained his reason. "It's hard to explain. You Americans won't understand." From his response, I fired back with an exaggerated gasp. Now he was crossing the line.


"You take that back."


"Never. I told my peace." An airily chuckle was let out into the night from the given reply that I gave. The atmosphere felt more relaxed as jokes grew to be more and more humorous, along with the constant playful shoving and pushing. Once the jokes grew to be old, along with childlike banter, usual business came into play.


"So, do you need anything from me today?"


"Honestly," I looked around at my surroundings. So far the queue to go into the lounge was gone, except for a few people that were loitering around the front doing god knows what. This conversation was starting to get awkward until I made it worse by giving him an invitation to hang out with me. I wonder if my brain questions my suggestion of words, and yet it was already too late for me to bring them back into my mouth.


"You're asking me?" Confusion was raised in Shinoda's voice as he scratched his head.


"It's n-not like I'm asking you out or a-anything." Words were coming out in complete stammers as I tried to get myself together. It became to clearly put my words together until Shinoda showed a worryingly expression.


"I don't mind."


"Really?" The amount of surprise in my voice made me jump to my senses. For a person to hang out with someone like me, a drug addict at best, is something you never even hear about-even if was made up by some strange person.


"Really." Shinoda moved from his position against the wall and slowly made his way to the entrance, motioning one of his hands to guide me into his direction to follow.


"As long as there weed and X there, I'm good."


"Aren't you a supplier?" I questioned his stupidity. From there, Shinoda gave himself a face palm.


"Yeah, you're right."


I laughed out loud while following him to the entrance, hoping not to miss out on the next anticipating act.


Yeah, tonight is going to be one interesting night. No doubt about it.

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