"You're like the god-forsaken Jesus of Suburbia." (R for excessive language some users may be uncomfortable with. Expect it from now on.)
"Take a seat, get comfy." Jimmy said, gesturing towards the couch. Hunter did so, sweeping trash off of the couch. Jimmy shrugged. "Hey, it's home. It's not the best, but it's home. So, where you from? You obviously ain't been here before." St.Jimmy put some assorted things on the table and plopped down next to Hunter.
"Jingletown. Suburbs." Hunter replied, staring at the paraphernalia Jimmy had placed on the table. Jimmy ignored Hunter's roving eyes. "Get some sleep, eh? I'm gonna go crash for tonight."
Hunter had now known Jimmy for about 4 days, even if Hunter had slept through most of their time together. St.Jimmy had woken him up at about noon by sitting on Hunter's stomach. "Get... the fuck... off!" Hunter gasped. St. Jimmy smiled, leaning in close, "That's not what you said when I fucked you in your sleep." Hunter's jaw dropped, his eyes got wide, and he pushed Jimmy onto the floor. "Did you just touch my ass?!" Jimmy cried from the carpet. "Couldn't help myself," Hunter laughed, "It's so perfectly formed."
Jimmy leaned back on his elbows, "Yes, I know it is. Too perfect for you!" He smiled.
Later in the day- not that it could get much later- they were both sitting on the couch again. The TV was on, not that it truly mattered- music blared over anything that might have been showing. Jimmy and Hunter were sharing half of a pizza that Hunter had found in the back of the fridge.
"You need a nickname, man." Saint Jimmy said, rolling a join on the table. He lit it, took a drag, and then passed it to Hunter. "You said you ran away. From Jingletown. You have problems or sumthin'?"
Hunter exhaled, nodding. "Yeah... My mom's a fuckin' bitch... never happy. And..." He shook his head, blowing smoke from his nose.
"Made you deal with shit, yeah? Payin' for her sins?" St.Jimmy eyed Hunter. "...I paid for her shit choices a long time ago." Hunter said, staring out the sliding glass door that led to the apartment's small wooden balcony. "You look like Jesus, nailed to that fucking couch." He whined in a falsetto voice.
"You're like the god-forsaken Jesus of Suburbia." Jimmy said, elbowing Hunter in the ribs. "Y'know, that's a good one. Jesus of Suburbia. You like it?" He asked. Hunter took another drag. "Sure."
"I say we celebrate your christening. Jesus, as your saint, let us commune." St.Jimmy laughed in an official-sounding voice. He got up from the couch, walking into the bedroom. He came back and tossed a pill bottle to Hunter. "Don't go wasting those." Jimmy said, pointing a finger at Hunter while he walked into the kitchen.
He threw a beer can at Hunter. "You'll be on top of the world."