Not Too Late
A/N : Alright, I definitely don't own any of the characters in this. If I did, do you think I would be writing fanfiction:P
Story is inspired by "Never Too Late" by Three Days Grace.
He looked at himself in the mirror, his hands on either side of the sink, holding himself up. He was panting for breath, his hair a mess and his skin pale. He had slept for almost 12 hours and now that he was awake it was back. The desire to use in full force hit him like a freight train.
He growled at himself in the mirror. He was weak. He had let himself get addicted to using and now he couldn't seem to kick the habit. The voice inside his head was nagging at him.
You'll feel so much better if you use. Just a little bit. No one will ever notice.
The voice was only partially right. He would feel better if he used. But someone would notice. His best friend would notice. It was hard not to notice when your room mate woke in the middle of the night, shaking and sweating from withdrawal, babbling incoherently.
He was trying to be strong. He didn't want to be addicted, not to using. He was supposed to be the strong one of them. The voice of reason, his friends called him. He called himself weak.
In that moment of weakness, he reached for the razor blade on the side of the sink. He watched the blood pool to the surface, watched it drip into the sink, as if with the blood the addiction would leave as well.
There was a brief knock on the door before it opened and his room mate strolled in.
"What are you doing?"
He didn't answer, his eyes firmly locked on the blood at his wrist.
"Shit man, you're bleeding."
His room mate grabbed some bandages, and pulled him back into the other room. He watched as his room mate worked carefully at his wrist. He appeared to be deep in thought as he did this.
"Being addicted doesn't give you the right to do this."
The words shocked him, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at his room mate. "You think you know everything."
"I know that it'll be alright if you quit being a pansy about this and ask for help." his room mate countered.
The glare was still firmly in place as he scoffed. "What do you know about addiction?"
"It's going to kill you." replied his room mate, bluntly.
"Not if I do it first." He stood and began to make his way back to the bathroom, tugging at the bandages on his wrists.
If I do this, the pain will stop. The addiction will stop. No more waking up in the middle of the night with cold sweats and withdrawal pain. No more waking up period.
A hand on his shoulder spun him around. "That's the wrong answer and you know it. It's not too late. There are still a few weeks before your birthday."
He shook his head, sadly at his best friend and brother. "It is too late. The minute I ascend is the minute I'll die. You know it's true."
"Not if you fight it. You just need to let me and the boys help you. If I can beat it, so can you Baby Boy. I was more far gone than you are."
Tyler looked shocked. Almost as if he had forgotten that a few months ago the tables had been reversed. That Reid had been the one in the bathroom at night, trying to end his life, and he, Tyler had been the one trying to talk him out of it.
Tyler appeared to be thinking about what Reid had just said. He nodded slightly and a hand darted up to brush the tears out of his eyes.
"Okay. Call Pogue and Caleb."
He could see the relief in Reid's eyes, as he agreed.
Not too late. If Reid can beat it, I sure as hell can.