Jase & Danson
[All stories in this series:
1: Drew 2: Vicky 3: Egs 4: Danson 5: Egs & Danson 6: Nelle 7: Elliot 8: Emmeline 9: Josie 10: Nelson 11: Jase 12: Hilda 13: Jase & Danson 14: Drew & Vicky 15: Donna & Elliot 16: Creature]
Jase returned home, exhausted, but not able to drop just yet. He deposited his clothes in the washing machine, adding heavy duty cleaner to remove the acrid stench of smoke and petrol. Removing it from himself required a hot shower, and he headed there next, wetting his curly brown locks under a stream just a fraction too hot for comfort and scrubbing himself down, watching his tan skin turn red and blotchy.
If only scrubbing away the act, the memory, the knowledge, was so easy, he thought, and not for the first time.
He understood that some revelled in destruction, that they would relish this work he so hated, but it had only ever been about the money for him, the desperation, the need to escape and be a person instead of the pile of dirt people telegraphed their disgust in when they saw him, homeless and starving, and daring to get in the way of their comfortable ignorance.
Head down, Jason let the shower run over him until he realised he was swaying on his feet, drifting towards sleep. He jerked his head up, turned off the shower and dried himself with one of Danson’s huge, fluffy, person-sized towels. He scrunched his hair to remove the worst of the water, tied it into a loose ponytail, and left it for now – his only real vanity, those long curls, and he would have to wet them again after waking, but he was far too tired to dry them properly right now. Continue reading