(nodreas) ▪ i slow dance with the devil

The sky ain't watching and the crows never weep and the road to salvation crumbling under me ✰

A month. A month. It had been a freaking month. A month since the last time you'd seen him, all sweaty, craving drugs, needing any drug in his system. You'd never been the best in business so you'd agreed to give him anything you had if the bastard paid a week later. You'd been waiting for the payment. For a week. Then two weeks. And three weeks. From that moment, you'd  been searching everywhere to find him. And you'd found him, finally, just before giving up. It was way past bedtime right now. From what you were seeing from your watch, it was two in the morning. A perfect time to wake up that bastard and let him give you whatever he owed you. Because it was not just a little sum. It was almost a whole package. More than three hundred pounds. Watching at the situation, you were wondering why you'd given him so much. It was a foolish mistake. You were too trusting of his dumb ass. Even if it was not the first time he'd been late for a payment. Usually, a client had three days to pay you. And it was the third time that useless shit had failed you. One time was okay. Two was usually a last chance. But three. He was a lucky guy. Given the quantity of alcohol you had in your blood, it was probably not really a good night to get your money but whatever. No wand, nothing else than yourself, your jacket and you were already in London, searching for that damned address, that damned loft where he was probably sleeping. You had been thinking about getting your money tonight for a long time. Almost three hours now. And the vodka you had in your organism made you think blurry, but you were not that drunk to not see the big picture. If he paid tonight, you would be free of that weight, of that money he owed you. And ultimately, that money he owed you, you owed to the other bastard. That one you owed everything. That one who gave you all your products to sell. And if you were late to deliver a payment, it would probably be the end. And you obviously did not want that. You wanted to continue to sell drugs, and continue to have clients, and continue to have payments, when you asked for them. And that stupid ass wasn't helping you to get all of that. You were so furious, if you had to be honest. Because, the same way he asked products from you and you were here to deliver, he should be here to pay, when you asked for him to do so. His building was so grotesque. Obviously where he worked and what he did, did not pay him much. But reflecting on that, you would probably not say a word, given where you lived. You entered the building, vodka still boiling in your blood, still giving you the strength to get to that bastard's flat. The first floor was as crappy as the front of the building. Getting your hands out of your pockets, you found the flat really quickly, given there were only two flats here. And his name was on the door. That bastard. You would probably scream. And wake up everyone. Three knocks. The biggest knocks you'd ever given.
OPEN UP ASHRYVER I KNOW YOU'RE HERE. Your voice was so loud, after all. Three other knocks. OPEN UP YOU BASTARD.

But I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down won't open my eyes, keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight ✰

Drunk again. Like every night he didn't work. The almost respectable assistant cook who became a mess when he was given some freedom, who became a mess the moment he crossed the entrance of a bar. Pitiful little child, unable to bear life without his Ogden's Old Firewhisky. The clock was ticking and Noctis already didn't remember for how long he'd been there. A few hours, even maybe days. Too afraid to go back home, too afraid of the ghosts he'd see in his nightmares. Pitiful little child still believing in some monster hidden under his bed, ruining himself in hope that they'd let him alone. « Hey Noc. We're closing. » A glower to the bartender. He didn't want to leave, not now, but he was not in the mood for a fight either. A sigh and a shoulder shrug ; Noctis got up then to leave the lousy bar. Maybe it was time to get home. Maybe the shadows were already gone, banished by all the alcohol he drank. Or maybe he should have found some girl to keep him compagny tonight.

He was not even in the building when he heard the three knocks on his door. « OPEN UP ASHRYVER I KNOW YOU'RE HERE. » Fuck. A short moment of hesitation. He didn't want to go up there after hearing his name yelled like that. He didn't even recognize the voice; he didn't know why someone would come in this rotten part of the city for someone like him. All this way to find a closed door. « Open up you bastard » He hesitated again, tempted to leave, to find some occupation outside. But curiosity was stronger and Noctis wanted to see who was craving to see him that much. So he took the stairs - not sure he'd ever arrive alive at the top - just to see that guy. He didn't even remember his name, he was just the guy who sold him drugs. A smirk on Noctis' face. « Knock, knock. Who's there? » And he laughed like a madman. He laughed because he was too drunk to do otherwise, he laughed because he found himself hilarious. Noctis kept walking clumsily, almost falling on the ground with every step he took. That's the last time he drinks that much. The last time until next. He walked past Andreas, almost ignoring him after having made his joke - but still laughing about it - looking for something in his pockets. When he finally found his keys, he tried o open the door where Andreas knocked a few seconds ago, his eyes focused on the lock he was unable to open.  « i hope you're not looking for your money because I don't have it. » He never had money anyway. The Rosier didn't pay him enough. People couldn't just expect him to be rich enough to pay his rent and buy alcohol, drugs and whores at the same time. Surely Andreas could understand that.