tezcatl_ipoca: (Default)
[personal profile] tezcatl_ipoca
[NOTA BENE: THIS IS NOT CSI!CANON. This is purely for rachelm's and my personal amusement.]

My flight's late, and I'm not back until midday. His key's in my pocket, but I still think about going back to my own place, sleeping it off. Dealing with it all later. But at the last moment I tell the cab his address.

The concierge must recognise me by now, because I'm not stopped, tired and sweating and disreputable as I am, dragging my suitcase. Look at myself in the mirror in the lift up to the penthouse; I look a wreck. I've lost weight, and my eyes are so sunken they look like pissholes in the snow, dark-shadowed. Managed to shave, but managed to cut myself, too.

So fucking relieved when I get into his place. All I want to do is sleep. Go to the fridge, drink half a litre of water, and then climb the stairs painfully. Pass out full-length on his bed, shoes still on.

Open to Al.
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tezcatl_ipoca

September 2010

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