Chapter Text
Johnny and the Kid had spent far to much time at Tee'N'Ay and Lorenzo had consumed far to much liquor. Lorenzo, the Hispanic male with aptitude for being an asshole cocky narcissist around Johnny, and a silent teenager around others, had gotten himself in deep with the drink. Usually big L tried to keep himself from drinking too much around Johnny, for he'd been in love with him for months now...but having been forced into the situation he'd lost track of how many he was consuming. He intended to drink one, really, but when he found himself with three on the table and no emergency break he ended up drinking...
Five?
Perhaps.
Kid wasn't sure.
Kid wasn't sure about how he ended up curling in Aisha's new car either, but the blank point in his memory ended with him clenching his stomach groaning in unbelievable pain. Even other gang members giving him a good one in the stomach didn't compare to this. It felt like his insides were burning.
"How many times have I told you not to get him drunk, Johnny? He's just a kid!" Aisha. It was Aisha, wasn't it?
"He's a big fuckin' Boy, Eish! He can handle that shit!"
"Really, that kid, clenching his stomach, in the back looks like he can handle this kind of alcohol content?"
The dark haired teenager shifted around in his seat and suddenly gagged. It got their attention just in time for the car to stop, and for him to fumble the door-handle open. Flopping out onto the black concrete he felt every ounce of his insides come up at once. It wasn't pleasant, and he really didn't want to recount the details of it all. When he was done, he felt Johnny's hands holding him up by his shoulders. "Shit, ain't gunna here the end of this shit, am I?" Gat's voice spoke to the woman standing next to them.
Something unpleasant dripped out of his lips as Aisha spoke to Gat. "Get him in the car, Johnny." The slamming door spoke volumes.
"Shit, man, you a'ight?" A pause, "Wonderful talker, as ever..."
The hispanic finally collected himself, turned his head and nodded it slowly. His face was red, flushed from his drinking and burning from the embarrassment of just copping out like this. "Get movin', playa." He hit him over the back as an encouraging factor, leaving him to pick himself up into the black car.
Never.
Drinking.
Again.
That was the general notion of the teenager the next morning, sprawled out in front of King's previous flat-screen in the dark entertainment room. He looked up at the giant screen without satisfaction, eyes blurry and lifeless with a open bottle of Tylenol a few feet away, an ice-pack over his forehead, and a phone that was five feet away from him (having thrown it idly across the couch). He intended to just take a day off, and sulk in his misery for a few hours before opening the curtains for light. He'd completely clothed the room in pitch black silence except for the giant flat-screen TV that was casting a blue light across the room, speakers turned so far down you could barely hear it. He had a random channel up, not really paying much attention to the red and white sword-wielding hero on screen, or what the show was called. He only knew that the hot chick on the last commercial looked good holding Freckle Bitch's burger and that the lady bringing the viewers back into the TV show had mentioned it as a pilot episode.
He was only half-way enjoying the show, mostly because day-time television on Sunday was generally terrible, and at least this had some class to it.
Yeah. This is alright. You go strange mother fucker with a giant sword fighting dead-looking dudes.
Honestly, he wondered if that thought was because he still had a bit of liquor left in him, or if it was out of delirium from the pain medicine.
He heard the doorbell go off and groaned, slumping further and hoping whomever it was would show themselves out. He was not in the mood this morning.
He heard his phone go off, and groaned, giving into checking the collar ID reluctantly. He pulled on a pair of glasses just in case. Picking it up seeing it was Johnny, he put it to his ear. "Yo, would yo' ass answer the fuckin' door? Eish be makin'-fuck! Eish! Let ou' asses in, would you? No, no, I know you love to talk, just skip the dialogue and getcho' ass down here, Yen Sid."
A slow twitch of his lip led the teenager to smirk at this. Whatever, he could take a day of with Gat and Aisha. Standing, he stretched and walked downstairs, realizing that this would probably be his life for the longest time...
And as much as he loved Johnny, he guessed he could live with just being his best friend. He liked Aisha anyways, he could live being the third wheel if he was at least able to stay in their lives.