Save for a nightlight in the kitchen, the house was totally dark when they entered it. Jodie mentioned that her roommate should already be in bed, so they ought to keep it down. After groping around in the dark for a few seconds, she hit the living room’s light switch while promising to make up the sleeper sofa, but found it already occupied. “Aw shit, sorry Ingrid!” She yelped.
“It’s cool!” The couch’s occupant threw an arm over her head, and Jodie hurried to turn the light off.
“Sooo.” Motioning for Mitch to follow her, she explained that Ingrid was crashing for the next few days while her bathroom was being renovated, then apologized about it slipping her mind. “You wanna just do this like old times and share my bed?”
“Oh dang, we going high school style?” Mitch joked. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
“And college? And that time that I was homeless for a hot minute? And then that time that you were between jobs for another minute?” She started to count off of her fingers.
Realization dawned on Mitch, and he mused out loud, “Honestly, aside from Calvin, I think I’ve slept next to you more than anyone that I’ve dated.”
“Two gaaays, one beddd!” she sing-songed on the way to her room, whatever concerns about everyone else’s sleep schedule long since gone out the window. Shutting the door behind them, she then unceremoniously tossed Mitch’s backpack onto a chair in the corner of the room that was already covered laundry. “By the way, you still have your gear on. And stuff all over your face.”
After he grabbed baby wipes and underwear from out of his backpack, Mitch set up shop in the bathroom. He studied himself in the mirror before dragging a wipe across the now-smeared facepaint, but his eyes stayed fix on the bruises along his neck and shoulders. The doctor said that had he landed mere centimeters north, he’d be paralyzed. While scrubbing more stubborn spots of paint, he couldn’t help but imagine how that conversation with Calvin would have went, and hastily willed that hypothetical out of his head. No doubt, he’d be dumped were that the case; he already skated on thin ice by merely existing.
With the last traces of paint gone, Zevon the werewolf vanished as well. Now all that was left was an unkempt human Mitch Calvert, with his shaggy blonde hair, his hawk nose, and too many imperfections that he’d rather not be alone to dwell upon. At least Zevon was a monster, so he had excuses for being hairy and scraggly and covered in weird scars.
Undressing was a Herculaneum task, and he barely had the energy to pull up the pair of boxer-briefs, but Mitch managed to overcome the odds with no grace whatsoever. He cursed at himself for forgetting a toothbrush, and helped himself to some mouthwash that belonged to one of the house’s other occupants. When he returned to Jodie’s bedroom, an obscene amount of pillows were stacked up on what he assumed was his side of the bed. “Do you think that might be a bit much?” he asked.
“You’re a side sleeper, and right now you can’t do that,” She pointed out. Was it weird for friends to know those details about one another? Maybe the accusations about being co-dependent weren’t too far off base.
Wrestling gear dropped somewhere within range of the backpack, and Mitch settled into the bed. Multiple attempts were made at getting comfortable, and once he stopped squirming, Jodie turned off the bedside’s lamp. After several minutes of quiet, he punctured it with a deep breath. “They gave a prescription,” he revealed. “It’s a written one, but. Y’know.”
“Ah,” Jodie acknowledged, and the energy in the room turned sour. Mitch could physically feel the way that she weighed out the next few words. “What are you going to do with it?”
“I gotta get rid of it. Like, obviously.” He chuckled softly. Sadly.
“Is it in the bag?”
“The plastic one with the papers and stuff. I shoved it towards the bottom.”
While Mitch continued on with his admission of contraband, Jodie turned the light back on, rolled out of the bed, and rummaged through the bag. “Do you want some weed or something? To get you through the night?”
“I really would, yes.” Not even a second later, a vape pen was tossed in his direction and landed on his chest. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” As Mitch took a hit, he spotted a small piece of paper of held between her fingers. His eyes widened when she popped the entire thing into her mouth, thoroughly chewed, and swallowed it.
“Jesus, Jodie.”
For the last time that evening, the lamp turned off. Jodie rolled onto her stomach, and responded with a muffled, “Night dude.”
