Kakashi sat on the floor on his apartment. Next to him sat his gloves and vest, both items tossed to the side and out of his way. His long sleeved navy blue shirt was rolled up on one arm to just above the elbow. Slowly he looked over his shoulder to the coffee table his back was leaning up against. He picked up the long string of rubber that lay there, and held it in his fingers for a long moment.
Sometimes he didn't know why he was doing this to himself.
It wasn't like he didn't have a clue what he was doing, he wasn't stupid. He knew the dangers and risks to it. He just couldn't seem to find it in himself to really…care. At all. Lately he found himself thinking more about taking his own life than finding ways to save it.
And that scared the hell out of him.
Why couldn't he be worried about his health? Why couldn't he feel anything anymore? He was losing touch with his friends, his students…
Himself!
That was an insane thought. How does one simply lose touch with themselves? But as kakashi tied the rubber string tightly around his pale arm. As he pulled the cap off of the needle with his teeth and took in a deep breath. As he pushed the sharp point into his bursting vein…he knew this wasn't him.
He wasn't who he was before. And he wasn't sure if he could ever go back to that, didn't know if he wanted to go back to that.
Kakashi pulled the spent needled from his moonlit skin and threw it onto the dingy floor of his broken down apartment. Slowly he slipped onto the floor and just lay there, staring at the ceiling and waiting as the drug washed over him.
When did he slip this far away?
Sorry it's kind of short, mostly just to get a feel for the story…set the mood, you know? Hope you liked! :)