#♫ / leon: 003.

[elijahfalvey]

WHERE / Leon's apartment, Weaver Ridge.

WHEN / Best bro sleepover; late in the evening, any day.

WITH / Leon Wozniak — @leonwozniak.

It was downright comical how long Elijah had known Leon, how long they’d been living in the same town again, and it’d taken him until now to step a single foot inside the worn down apartment building he called home. He’d seen it from the outside plenty of times, on plenty of different occasions, but it never quite occurred to the musician that this was his first time seeing the state of his living room until he was standing there, a six-pack of beer and a small paper bag from the dispensary dangling from his hands. It was … well, he wouldn’t say nice — at least not in comparison to his own home, in which nice was a massive understatement — but comfortable, perhaps, was the better word. Lived-in. It reminded him a lot of his old apartment before he moved in with Nilay, which, granted, wasn’t located in Weaver Ridge (which seemed to bring its own charm unoften found in the other neighborhoods within Blue Harbor), but shared an alarming amount of similarities with the building Leon lived in now. It was either that, or the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to particularly care at the current minute, that had him overlooking a lot of the 'charm' he had the pleasure of finally seeing with his own eyes. He simply toed his shoes off at the door and continued walking on through, finding the nearest couch to sit on as he unloaded his things onto the coffee table like he was the one that lived there. “Thanks, Le,” he piped up, his words much more concise than the unspoken meaning behind them. Thank you for having me over. Thank you for letting me stay. Thank you for being a good friend. “You wanna watch a movie? I won't, uh — won't make you sit through Barbie as the Island Princess, don't worry. You can pick.”

[elijahfalvey]

Elijah decidedly doesn’t press on Leon’s statement, even if the act of retreating into his clothing does minimal to disprove it. He simply reaches into his pocket and hopes the lighter he pulls out isn’t completely dead as he flicks the end, a bit too proud of himself as it lights. He doesn’t think too much on whether smoking inside is a good idea, either — mainly because he knows it to be a bad one, and figures that Leon would’ve said something against it if he minded that much before he showed up with the pre-rolls in the first place — and instead inhales a long, satisfying drag.

He can’t remember the last time he’s gotten high, properly anyway, but figures it’s generally a bad sign that he wants to. He only really partakes in weed when he’s particularly stressed these days — and stressed doesn’t even scratch the surface of how he’s been feeling, so there’s that. The whole point is so that he can forget about all of that, though, so he tries not to dwell too much on the why as he sinks into the couch himself.

An outstretched hand at his side causes him to pass the joint over and he laughs. “I’m not in baby world, man. How many times do I have to tell you that these kids programs are actually pretty good for what they are? I’m telling you — watch them with me, you’ll find out.” He has low hopes for Leon’s enlightenment towards the Barbie franchise, and Bluey, and whatever other obscure film the girls have been watching on repeat lately, but he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t still try.

He takes it back and takes another drag, diverting the topic by asking, “So, uh — you been up to anything fun lately?”

“i don’t sound unsure,” leon frowned, leaning back even further, his head practically hidden in the hood of his sweatshirt as he propped his feet up on the coffee table. it wasn’t uncertainty, really; more like a touch of apprehension. he couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him—he didn’t know exactly what elijah was going through, and that made him uneasy. the last time a close friend had turned to drugs for answers, it hadn’t ended well for leon.

his eyes tracked elijah as he pulled out a pre-rolled joint. the last time leon had been high was with saul in chicago, and the silence from the lawyer since that weekend had been making him anxious. was it the drugs? had he said something out of line, done something out of character, or been more of an ass than usual while under the influence? leon had always believed he was a jerk when high, a belief rooted deep from his teenage years when he’d been a frequent user. he liked to think he could control himself, but doubts still lingered.

he forced himself to refocus on elijah, grabbing the remote to put on some gory movie. he waited until elijah lit up and took a few drags before reaching for the joint himself. he wasn’t going to let elijah ride the high alone, and, if he was honest, leon didn’t feel like handling someone high while he was sober. he’d had enough of that in recent years. “you’re stuck in baby world, man. i’m sorry for you. can’t imagine what that does to your brain, listening to those dumb unicorn movies all the time. no offense to the unicorns, of course.”

he took a drag, the smoke filling his chest before he exhaled, watching it curl into the air before passing the joint back. he was grateful he’d had the foresight to open the window; it was still september, so the weather was mild, but he knew it would be a nightmare if the whole place reeked for weeks.

[elijahfalvey]

Unspeakable meanings were a staple of Elijah and Leon’s friendship, though it was every so often — once in a blue moon, really — that the handcrafted walls that sat comfortably between them chipped out, piece by piece, and they were both able to let a little vulnerability in. The last time he could clearly recall such an instance was shortly after the accident, after he’d taken a one way flight out of Los Angeles and found himself standing by himself in the Chicago airport, the loneliest he’d ever felt. Leon was still in New York, then, a lot closer physically than he used to be, but everyone had just seemed so . . . far away, still. He’d called Cynthia first, and she offered to take a few weeks off of work at the drop of a hat, but he couldn’t let her do that for his sake. Once a text came through from the disgruntled chef almost immediately after he hung up the phone, new plane tickets had been booked faster than he could blink. 

It just felt right, at the time, spending the weekend with Leon instead of settling into his new normal, and it was. They didn’t talk about anything, didn’t even dare to mention it, but there was an understanding between the both of them that he simply needed to be there. 

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly the same, whatever was happening within him now, but a similar feeling bubbled up in his chest and now — well. He was here, seeking refuge just as before. It would’ve been poetic if not downright sad. 

“Why do you sound so unsure about that?” Elijah inquired, slightly amused, while his fingers worked to rifle through the paper bag. He pulled out a box of pre-rolls, because he wasn’t about to get complicated with it, and plucked one out. He left the container open on the table as an invitation, if Leon wanted to partake along. “Kill Bill’s fine. I feel like I haven’t seen that film in ages.”

elijah in weaver ridge, in leon’s apartment, clashed hard with their last meet-up. the last time they’d seen each other was at elijah’s suburban house—big enough to fit three of the little mobile homes in weaver ridge. elijah just didn’t fit in leon’s bare, barely decorated space. still, the man looked rough, and leon knew better than to mention it. it wasn’t often they shied away from taking the piss out of each other, but even leon could sense this wasn’t the time or place.

he’d cleaned, at least, before elijah came over. leon never liked having people by, especially when bottles usually cluttered the surfaces. he didn’t drink much while working, but it was different at home.

leon acknowledged elijah’s thanks with a small nod, forcing his attention back to his friend, then watched him settle on the sofa. he looked tired—older, somehow. and judging by the six-pack and the weed elijah casually dropped onto the coffee table, the situation was more dire than leon had assumed. he probably should’ve cooked something.

“yeah, sure.” leon moved and sat next to him—there wasn’t much choice. his tv was tiny, and the sofa was the only seating option unless elijah wanted to sit in the corner, where a small living room chair was buried under shirts, blankets, and books. leon was certain there were at least two or three sets of keys hidden in the mess.

“maybe something with less barbie would be nice, for sure. wanna watch kill bill? still got that strong woman thing going on, i don’t know.” leon shrugged, leaning back until he felt like he’d become part of the sofa.