tempting_the_fates

It was the best idea, in Willy's opinion. He needed to shut it all off, too. He had questions. He had worries. He...felt like an asshole because he was worried about the tour. He was fearful for Nyx, of course, and that only made him feel selfish and shitty.

"Stay there," he said, flinging his hand vaguely at the bed before walking into the closet and mostly closing the door.

So now Nyx knew there were drugs in the house. He didn't need to know exactly where.

Emerging after a moment, Willy held his stash box- an old plastic lunch box that had once had a sticker of a cartoon, but was now covered in venue logos, coffee stands, and band stickers. Snapping it open was a familiar sound. Comforting, almost.

Inside, he had an assortment of pills, baggies, and a leather shaving kit that held his rig.

"Candy shop is open for business," he offered.

A shit idea, the worst idea.

"You're still shooting up?" he asked quietly, barely meeting Will's gaze.

"When I know it's clean,: he nodded. "Only the best for a rockstar."

He chuckled at himself as he flicked his finger around, showing off all he had to offer.

Nyx leaned forward, looking through it all. There was a ritual to all this, one he really missed sometimes. Especially heroin.

He resisted though, instead grabbing a pair of pills he was fairly sure were oxy. If he was going to fall he couldn't fall too hard.

"Thanks," he said quietly, before knocking them back dry.

Willy nodded, closed the box, and set it on his dresser.

"Cool," he smiled.

"You need some fat with that. White Russian?" he offered, then suggested, "Or ice cream, I guess."

"I don't think we have either," Nyx admitted. Honestly, he couldn't remember the last time he even ordered groceries. "I think there's some candy left over from a christmas party somewhere..."

"Oh contrair, moan frair," he chuckled, letting the twang ring through the bad French.

"Come on," he said. "You found a full service plug, little bird."

He moved a cloth that was hiding a small fridge where he pulled out a pint of cream, putting it on top of the makeshift countertop with liquor bottles on it. Willy had always made due with what he had. He'd lived in trailers smaller than his whole bedroom. He knew how to make the most of his space- no matter how much he hd.

"You're insane," Nyx laughed, leaning back against the headboard and watching him work.

He wondered if Willy would still want to spend time with him when he was bed-bound and half bald.

"You knew that," Willy replied, moving a couple drinks and bringing one to Nyx.

"Bottoms up. Swallow it all so the nod hits," he smirked. "You won't feel a thing. I promise."

Nyx took the drink, not thinking anything of Willy's words or phrasing as he knocked it back.

It hit almost right away though, his whole body a bit heavy as he put the glass down.

"I don't want to die, Will," he said quietly.

"No one does, dove," Willy said, moving to bring Nyc into his arms.

"I have music to make, a career to follow..." Nyx babbled as he settled against him. "I'm not done."

"You're on fire," he agreed, guiding him to the bed to sit...before he fell.

Willy kneeled on the floor to take off Nyx's shoes.

"You've got so much to do," he added as they came off.

Nyx could feel himself getting worked up, struggling to keep it all pushed down and under control.

"I don't want to die alone in some hospital bed, Will. Promise me I won't."

"That will never happen," he promised.

"And it's definitely not gonna happen tonight. Lay back and let them work," he told him.

Nyx lay back slightly, the world around him going a bit softer. It was lovely, the way he seemed to just stop caring bit by bit.

True bliss.

As Nyx relaxed, Willy slowly undressed him with tender hands.

"It's better, right?" he said softly.

"It's better," Nyx said softly, nodding a little. "This is better."

Willy didn't stop until Nyx was in his pants, every muscle soft and warm as the drugs coursed through him.

"I could sing you to sleep," he offered as he finally laid down next to Nyx.

"You could kiss me," Nyx said softly, curling up against him. "Touch me, sing to me..."

Willy gathered him close and kissed his hair.

"I can do that," he said quietly.

He kept everything slow and soft as Willy kissed him and petted him and sang him a sweet folk tune about a girl and a boy meeting at the well. It was long, more verses than most people could remember. SOme verses he'd made up himself. A silly little song to lull Nyx into peace.

Nyx fell asleep not long after Will started singing, curled up againt the other man and out cold.

He snuggled and sang until it was clear Nyx's wish was granted. He was out, the drugs obliterating the fear and worry of the diagnosis.

He got up, leaving Nyx to sleep it off in Willy's bed. He went to the kitchen to get food, tossed in laundry, watched telly. He knew Nyx would be out for a while.

He watched Nyx's screen come to life with a call. Hex. The ringing stopped, and shortly a voicemail chimed. Then a text.

Willy knew Nyx wouldn't be able to keep it secret. It was going to be tabloid fodder.

Nyx slept hard, but when he woke up the dread was back, creeping up on him, the feeling settling in his gut.

Dragging himself out of bed, he didn't even pull on a robe as he went shuffling off to find Willy.

"Hey," he said quietly. "I, um... I don't suppose you have something else I could take?"

"Up or down?" he asked from where he was chilling on the sofa, a roach in the ashtray and three empty beer bottles on the table.

He muted the tv.

"I've got whatever you need," he grinned at him.

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