Heart Shaped Box

"Why can't you do it yourself? That last thing I want to do is help you to kill yourself," Beck said, his hands on his hips.

"Please, Beck. If I get caught buying again, I could get into major shit. I make just enough money to support my drug habit. And if I went to jail, I'd go into withdrawl and that fucking sucks," Patrick begged him, willing to say anything to get the man to buy him his drugs.

Beck sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine," he said, giving in.

"Yes! Thank you so much, Beck," Pat said and hugged the Vampire.

Beck chuckled and hugged him back. "Yeah, yeah," he said as they pulled apart. 'Where's the money?" He held out his hand, waiting for the money.

Pat put $200 in his hand. "Thank you so much," he repeated before walking off, his hips swinging.

Beck rolled his eyes, chuckling. He sighed and looked at the time. If he headed there now, he could grab the money's worth and bring it to Pat before he needed to feed. It would be cutting it close, but it would work. He walked to the motel where the man Pat usually bought his stuff from, not feeling the least bit unsafe in the dangerous neighborhood.

He got to the hotel about 30 minutes later, having taken his time in walking there. He thought back to the number of the room that Pat had told him and his enhanced vision scanned the doors, seeing that he was on the third floor. He walked up the three sets of stairs and walked down the walkway until he got to the door. He checked the number, making sure it was the right one before he knocked, crossing his arms as he waited.

Alex was lazing on the bed of the motel he rented. He always rented some cheap motel when he was making a deal. He was just coming off his high, having shot up a while ago. He had track marks on his forearms, and scars on his wrist. Self inflicted. He hated his life. But he just didn't have the balls to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.

He sat up when he heard a knock on the door. He pushed his shoulder length blond hair behind his ears and stood up. He pulled his sweatshirt tighter across his torso. He was always cold, and it was winter which sucked. Hr grabbed the little baggy of cocain and slid it in his pocket. He opened the door, seeing a good looking man, about his size, though he looked a lot more cleaned up.

"Coke, right?" He asked, holding up the small baggy of cocain.

"Yeah..." Beck trailed off when he saw the man. He was gorgeous. But you could tell that he needed to clean himself up.

His eyes scanned the man's body, taking in every detail. From the way pulled his sweatshirt tight around him to the little needle marks on his arms which proved his addiction. His heart beat irregularly, which was another sign. But the blood flowing through his veins was as loud and clear as a clean person's and he subconsciously licked his fangs. He knew the blood from this man would make him high, from the mixture of lack of sexual intercourse to the irregular flow of blood to the drugs that ran through his veins. And the man smelt delicious.

He shook his head, snapping back into the real world. "Yeah," he repeated and pulled out the money, handing it to the man, taking the drugs from him. "Thanks..." he trailed off. He would have used the man's name, had he known it.

"Name's Alex." Alex murmured, looking over the man. The man was hot as hell. And if he had an increased libido, then he'd definitely have this man fuck him. His last relationship was horrible. Jason was horrible, until he was killed. And the sex was painful. Alex hadn't had sex since.

This man didn't look like he did drugs normally, and he wasn't one of his regulars. "You don't look like you shoot up." He observed, brushing some hair out of his face.

"I don't," Beck replied, trying to gauge this man. Alex, he thought to himself. Somehow, the name fits him. "I'm a prostitute," he stated bluntly.

Alex nodded, not phased by it at all. "Ah, I figured." He said, clenching his trembling fists. His body shook a lot, and not even from withdrawal. Just form the fact he was always cold, malnourished and he was just unhealthy.

Beck's eyes scanned Alex's body. "You alright?" he asked, noticing the way Alex was trembling. He didn't know why the man was trembling.

"Yeah... I'm just... always like this." Alex sighed with a shrug, wrapping his arms tight around his torso. "So uh, you need anything else?" He asked.

"No. You should eat something. You look like you could use some food. I can take you out..." Beck trailed off, not wanting to seem too forward. They barely knew each other.

Alex raised a brow. "Are you asking me out?" He asked. "If you are, sure, not that I eat much anyway. So long as you don't mind cigarettes." He said, pulling out a cigarette, setting it between his lips and lighting it up in his shaky hands.

Beck chuckled. "Nah, they don't effect me," he said. "And yeah, I guess I am asking you out. So... Are we gonna go?" he asked, feeling kind of antsy about it.

Alex eyed him. "Yeah. You should really shoot up though. You look tense." He said lazily, stepping out of there room and closing the door behind him. "Where we goin'?" He asked.

"Not sure," Beck said. "And shooting up wouldn't help me much," he replied as they started to walk down the stairs.

Alex simply shrugged and smoked his cigarette. "So uh, how long have been a prostitute?" He asked.

"Uh... A while," Beck said as they began to walk, just letting his feet guide him to where they were going to go. "How long have you been a dealer?"

"I started shooting up at 15. And I started dealing at 18." Alex said, looking at the ground as they walked. He hate this past as much as he hated his life now.

Beck nodded. "Why?" he asked, curious as to why a man as gorgeous as him would do something like that.

Alex shrugged. "Shitty childhood. Drugs are the only thing that... can make me somewhat happy." He sighed. He didn't know why he was telling this man so much but honestly, he didn't really have much too loose.

Beck nodded. "Well, I mean, you don't have to drugs. There are other things out there that can make you feel good," he said. Like sex. Or a vampire bite. Or a mixture of the two, he thought, but kept that to himself.

Alex shook his head. He had been depressed for a while. And after his lover was killed, he was just a zombie trying to get a fix. "Nothing can make me feel good except drugs. Not money. Not sex. Nothing..." He murmured. Except maybe love... he thought quietly to himself. But he gave up on that a long time ago, and stopped believing in it.

Beck chuckled. "Lots of things can make you feel good. After you get clean," he said as they arrived at a little diner. "Looks like we're eating here," he said and walked in. The place was small and quaint, cozy. Had a bit of a homey feel, which was weird for NYC.

Alex nodded and finished off his cigarette, throwing it on the ground and stepping on it before following him into the diner. They sat down at a booth in th back. "Ya know, I never got your name." Alex said, wrapping his arms tight around himself out of habit.

"Beck," Beck said with a smile as he looked over one of the menus that the hostess had set down when she sat them.

Beck... fitting. Alex thought to himself before glancing over the menu. He sighed. "You know, I'm not very hungry..." He said. Though he should eat. He had bags under his eyes, he was underweight, and his movements were sluggish. He just didn't have much of an appetite.

"I know. Try anyway," Beck said as the waitress came up to them and took their drink order. He told her they still needed a few minutes to decided and she smiled politely and told them their drinks would be out soon.