Delirium

.twenty

November 30th

Elliot was the one who taught me how to use a gun properly. He taught me how to spot counterfeit dollars within seconds. He taught me how to survive when a gun is aimed at me. He taught me how to hotwire a car. He taught me the ins and outs of committing crimes and getting away with it. He taught me how to run from the police. He taught me how to recognize rather I'm dealing with an undercover cop or a real client.

But...while he taught me a lot of street stuff, Elliot taught me so much more.

He taught me how to do advance calculus because I couldn't go to school to learn it. He taught me how to drive. He taught me the deeper meanings behind the works of Edger Allen Poe and Shakespeare and correlation between their works and emotions. He taught me how to write an acceptable college admissions essay because he didn't want this life for me forever. He wanted me to succeed in something else and be the total opposite of him. He wanted the best for me.

Elliot once told me that true happiness didn't come from the highs of drugs or money or even material items like cars. No, true happiness was something felt when we're able to live life the way that we always dreamed up. True happiness came from waking up in the morning and knowing that you had a purpose to live, no matter how little. It came from the little moments in life where your laughing until your side burns or engulfed in you lover's arms and it feels as if nothing can harm you. True happiness is when when you've had a shit day and still go to bed excited about tomorrow.

I will never be truly happy. Not today, not tomorrow, not even in a couple of years from now. My past won't allow that. I can't wake up in the morning without worrying about Elliot leaving me one day and never coming back. I have nothing to live for but Elliot and drugs. I know when I die, I won't have anything to show for it but a shitty childhood and an equally shitty teenage and adult life.

He puts me at such a high pedestal and had so many high hopes for me and I know that I'm just gonna end up disappointing him one way or another. I dope myself up to forget the sad fucking existence that I live.

Because, I'm not shit.

I'm not shit.

-Cyan

***

Getting the shipment of drugs was easier than Cyan had imagined.

Maybe it was something to do with the people being too trusting of Elliot's boyfriend or something because Cyan barely had to speak his wants before they were signing the entire order over to him. This was a raid though and although Cyan was warily about having the a SWAT team of police coming and arresting Elliot's workers, it was the only thing he could do to gain their trust. Although, with all the police that had showed up, Cyan briefly wondered if Mason had ended up telling the department that he was under police custody or if he was just taking credit.

The drug bust was apparently a huge deal among the officers and the city because the next morning, it had made front page of the daily papers that Mason read with a smile. Cyan had woken up, tired as hell and with a headache that made him feel as if he was dying, to be greeted by a chipper Mason.

"And here I thought newspapers were obsolete," Cyan mused as he rubbed the sleep from his eye and stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.