FicWad

Another Day Without You

Nikki's POV

I awoke to that internal clock in my head that goes off with a pounding throb each day. It usually went off after 6 to 8 hours from my last fix or drink. I will my eyes to open and luckily the room is pretty fucking dim. Thank you Stradlin. Apparently he has the same internal clock as I do.

I sigh remembering freezing to death in his shower last night, unable to make my body work. I still have no clue what combination of drugs I took to end up like that. I raise my head which aches with this intensity you wouldn't believe, and groan. I don't see Izzy or Slash anywhere.

I sit up on the edge of the bed in search for a fucking cigarette. I'm pretty sure mine got fucked in the shower. Both those motherfuckers smoke, there has to at least be a goddamn butt somewhere. But no. I do see half a bottle of Jack. I grab it and turn it up and kill it like I do as part of my stage act.

I find my clothes laying on the counter in the bathroom. I slide into my pants too lazy to even lace them up. And fuck my shirt, it's covered in puke and dirty as shit anyway. I glance a myself in the big bathroom mirror. I look like death with half a pulse. I'm fucking yellow. My skin is almost transparent. It looks like a water bed mattress. Fuck I look bad.

Cigarette. I still need a fucking cigarette. I leave the room and make my way down the hall. When I get into the living room I see Izzy sitting shirtless on the window seat of his bay window. He gently exhales smoke as his eyes peer out the window. He has no expression that I can read. But somehow I think I hone in on a distant feeling I knew all too well.

His eyes fall down to the cigarette in his hand. He just watches it burn between his fingers. A blank stare, like he wasn't even there. In body only did he sit there. Yeah, that goddamn blank face didn't reveal a fucking thing, cool, calm, steady, collected. But I know that fucking look. Yeah. I get it.

“Hey,” I scratch my chest and push my hair out of my eyes.

He coolly tilts his head to my direction using only the muscles required to do just that. The blankness on his face never changes. It doesn't change in surprise or alter to greet me. All the same his hollow eyes acknowledge me as he extends the cigarette in his fingers out to me.

I go for it looking probably like a junkie...well...I take it into my lips for one luscious long drag. God it was almost as good as a fix...almost...I'll get to that. Right now I'm enjoying the fact that Izzy is smoking my brand. Apparently I haven't had one of these in a while.

"So I suppose you want to know what happen last night?" Izzy shrugs at me words laced with an indifferent nonchalance. The way everything thing comes out of him.

I wish I could adapt the way he has. Wish I had that uncaring nature, or at least the pretense of it. Me. I have too much rage in me. Too much unrelenting anger. Too much seething pain. And it just fucking comes out. Fuck that, it stays out. I can't control it, it controls me. But what controlled me I saw lassoed and dominated over in Izzy. But it was there. I saw it in his eyes from time to time.

I shake my head no. "I remember," I say.

Izzy gives a faint smirk and raises an eyebrow. "That's unexpected."

I nod and drag from the cigarette some more, "Yeah, I know. Thanks for not leaving me behind the Cathouse man, you and Slash both. Where is Slash?" I ask looking around.

Izzy's head turns back out the window in a blank stare. "In his own bed I assume."

I can see Izzy's chest slightly heaving as he says this. Fighting so hard to be cool and detached.

"Tommy called this morning," His dry voice says softly. Unless he's drunk Izzy barely talks above a whisper. Izzy's just soft spoken. Me, I'm always the loudest fucker in the room. Wait...did he say...

"Tommy?" I say and feel the 'Y' hanging up in my throat.

"Yeah, he was worried about you," Izzy barely says peering out into nothing. His eyebrows slowly center to the middle of his forehead in a frown which does not register to his lips.

I can't help but smile to myself that Tommy had called.

"Soooo," Izzy sighs and spins around to face me, "looks like I get the job of playing your baby sitter for the next fucking week. And I feel the need to tell you, I'm not much on kids, so give me a fucking break huh? No more having to fucking drag your heavy ass all over the goddamn place...agreed?"

I just nod with a sideways smirk.

"Ok...now that that's established and shit...you want a hit?" He asks his eyebrows shooting up like it would be the most awesome adventure ever. How sweet. I could see his love for that sexy temptress with the golden eyes. I remember when I looked at her the same way. Now...there's just numbness.

"Fuckin' A," I exhale smoke with a big nod.

Izzy slightly chuckles, "It's your shit anyway dumbass, found it on you last night. You apparently bought a lot of weight before you passed out, face down, in god knows what."

Did scoring ring any bells? Nope, not fucking really.

"Is it good?" I ask Izzy knowing damn well he has been in it.

He nods with a sideways smirk that mirrored my own. But of course I rock this shit way better. And since I told you I wouldn't tell you I don't give a fuck what you think anymore...I'll refrain...just know.

So Izzy and I got fucking high. We both tied up the raging tigers trying to rip out of us. We got to the point one gets in which they find solace in nothingness. Now the way in which Stradlin obtains those blank stares seems like a possibility. Dude was smacked out of his fucking head. No one would believe this shit unless they saw it like me. Izzy had an unbelievable tolerance apparently, like myself. And, like myself was a highly functioning junkie.