C12 Quick Fix

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Vincent's fist met the door harder than intended, and he turned to lean back against the wall while he awaited admission. His head was so loud, screaming at him like the banshee speakers of a metal concert. He could nearly feel the buzzing headache coming on.

He yanked at the collar of his shirt to let in cool air. Everything felt so hot. He hated the heat. Absolutely despised it. When he was angry it never went away that easily—the stuff stuck around like the fucking plague. Even standing under an A.C. vent in the dormitory halls, his own body seemed to be burning him alive. He lulled his head back against the hard wall, clenching a fistful of his hair. Though he was seething, something that Kailan said had been biting at him since the second he left the dorm.

"I was in a military camp because I was too old to be taken back into foster care."

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Vincent let out a frustrated draw, sending another hard knock on the door. Why should he care? He was done caring. He cared too much; that's how he found himself in this situation. He wanted it to stop—the heat, the anger; everything. That's why he was standing here with a cigarette tucked between his fingers.

Suddenly the door swung open to be replaced with a dazzling set of baby blue eyes. Cally blinked up with a dazed expression, makeup smeared in black trails on her cheek and a pained look on her face that nearly mimicked his own. "Vinny, what are you—"

Rough hands reached up to clasp her face, and even more forceful was the kiss between them as Vincent's mouth came crashing against her own.

There was nothing beautiful about it. Nothing heartwarming; nothing endearing. He almost wished she'd pull away and tell him to piss off, but that was never the case. The frail blonde melted into his arms, leaving a soft moan against his lips. Her manicured fingers roamed the tatted nape of his neck as she pulled him into her room, the door slamming closed behind them.

It was almost like getting the same dose of his drug again and again. It stopped the itching, but after a while, it never really gave him that same high. Ultimately, it left him lower than ever. He hated it. He needed it. He was addicted to this medicine. If anything, it only made him a worse person than he already was. But in his frame of mind, he had no option.

This was how he dealt with his emotions. This was the only way he knew how.