The blonde reflection stared blankly into deep blue eyes. They were cold, had seen too much, dark bags framing them, and not in a pretty way. The man in the mirror was tired. The leather he wore was worn, used, dirty, and smelled of smoke, sweat, gun powder, and chocolate. His hands were calloused, dry, and cracked, to the point where it hurt to move them and they bled. Half of him was covered in red burn marks. The man in the mirror leaned forward until his forehead touched mine. Hand touched hand. He opened his mouth and one word came out of mine.
"Fuck." It got the point across. The man sighed, letting his exhaustion take over for the night. The reflection walked away, looked back sadly at what he had become and fell onto the couch.
My eyes were open but I couldn't muster the energy to get up. I ordered my arm to move, but my head rolled to the side ignoring what I wanted for its own need for sleep. My eyes drifted shut against my will, and I feel asleep to the sound of my own breathing.
I rolled over, my body sore. I hit something. A vast, deep orange color flooded my eyes, and it took me a moment to realize it was the couch. I was on the floor. I rolled onto my back and glared up at the uncomfortable, hideous, rotting piece-of-shit couch that couldn't even hold me for a whole night's sleep.
Something caught my eye from under the horizon of orange fabric and wooden flooring. I reached for it, ignoring the layer of dust that coated the floor. What I pulled out captured my attention; I had seen it enough times to recognize what it was, and I suddenly felt dangerous and awake. I rolled onto my stomach, examining the bag. Normally, I would never even consider thinking about this, but I was sick of being myself. I needed change.
This could be that change. How many ways could I take this? Which one would give me the high that I needed right now? Smoking? Mainlining? Snorting? I figured easiest way would be to inhale the fumes. Mainlining would be faster, but I normally don't keep a stash of needles lying around. I had seen enough people do it to know how to smoke the drug though. I looked through the kitchen for some aluminum foil, but settled on a light bulb instead when I couldn't find any. I normally ate at Matt's. I put some inside, and put the rest of the bag somewhere safe. Finding a lighter was not a problem- I had always had a fascination with fire, and had plenty left around the house. I stood with the lighter under the bulb and felt excited as I inhaled.
I stood outside of Matt's door, shifting my feet in hope that it would make him open the door faster. I needed him now.
It opened slowly; Matt's body leaned on the frame, bright blue eyes that seemed so much larger and brighter now, staring at me. "Mello? Are you oka-?" I pressed my body into his, mouth covering his, need aching through my body.
He pulled me inside and closed the door. "Mello." His breathing was already laboured from the kiss, and I could hear him try to focus as I attacked his neck with my mouth. "What the hell are you on?" I mumbled the answer into his neck. He pulled me back by my shoulders and the vivid blue demanded truth from my shining dilated grey eyes. "Repeat that so I can understand you." I let out a sigh, he tasted so good, and I wanted him now. This could wait for later. My hands automatically moved under his shirt and his warmth made me shiver. "Methamphetamine. Do you want couch sex, bed sex, or floor sex? I'm voting for the floor, I can't wait." I stepped closer to him, and continued to impatiently kiss his neck, my hands exploring more of his body, loosening his belt. He spoke sadly. "Mels..." He was being careful with his words, and his hands. He didn't need to be, I sure as hell wasn't. "What made you...?" Kisses trailed up his jaw line, and I pressed one into his mouth. "Matt. Not now. This," I kissed him again, "is what I need now. Talk later, sex now. Got it?" I felt him give in, but knew he would freak in a bit. But I lived in the now.
His pants dropped to the floor.
"So Mels, want to talk about it?" I could barely hear Matt from over the pillow that I had pressed over my head. The headache I had when I was high was nothing compared to the feeling of it now that I was coming down. Getting burned in the fire was better than his. Plus Matt was being bitchier about this than me being blowing up the building I was in. "No, I don't." My voice came out hoarse and quiet. I had been highly emotionally unstable in the past 11 hours, and I screamed a lot. I wanted to sleep.
Matt wouldn't let me.
I felt his hands trace patterns on my back, the warm, kind, soft hands of his that I love. He removed the pillow, and I had to look into his beautiful face contorted with worry and hurt.
I hated the guilt that flooded every nerve in my body.
He snuggled close to me, warming me, hands playing with my hand, running softly along my skin. My heart sunk with regret for what I'd done. "Was it because of me?" I barely heard it, he barely breathed it, but my whole body stopped functioning until I processed what he meant. What he said didn't go through my brain; the need for sleep was affecting my thought process. "What do you mean?" I looked honestly into his face. Was what because of him?
He didn't look at me when he said it. "This." He gestured around at the havoc I had created. "You doing meth." His voice matched mine- exhausted, raw, and laced with regret. I pulled him closer. "No..." I was going to tell him what it was, me, my self-disgust, I needed a pick me up. My eyes closed of their own will, my body went limp, and my mind shut down.
I woke up cold. And alone. That scared me. Another thing that scared me was the craving to eat. I needed some food, I didn't give a shit about what it was, and I needed it now. I also needed to go back to sleep. I was so, so tired. I forced my sorry ass out of bed to get something to eat before I went back to bed. Matt could wait. He would come back. I couldn't function and even try to think of where he was.
I grabbed a box of coco puffs and took the box to bed, eating some on the way back. I snuggled under the sheets, scarfed down the box, and hugged the pillow. I wished the pillow was Matt. I suddenly felt like crying, and all I could think was that I wanted Matt.
The sleep took over my mind in a haze, and I still felt tears fall down my cheeks.
My eyes were swollen, my nose stung, and my head felt groggy. I sat up slowly, a hand on my head to ease the ache. I could make out where I was, but my head felt too sore to think of why. "Matt?"
A few moments later, he came in, worried, and sat down next to me. "Hey. You okay?" He pulled me into a delicate hug, resting my head on his shoulder and his on mine. The hand that went up to stroke my hair calmed me, and I relaxed into him.
"Have I ever been?" I loved the smell of him, slightly like cinnamon mixed with smoke and soap, lingering with my sweet breath. I thought about what I said, and rephrased it. "If it weren't for you, Mattie-boy, I would have been a lot worse. I was, when you weren't with me, and I will be, if you ever leave me. I just...get so lost in my own thoughts and the reality of the world that I need to escape it. Not always with the best methods." I lifted my head up, bumped our foreheads together, and looked straight into the honest blue eyes. "It was my reflection in the mirror that haunts me. The blonde one took meth to try and gain some energy. Some self confidence that was burned away in the fire. Drained from work. A little redhead was the one who loved me. Tucked me in. Worried about trash like me. It's one of the reasons I love you." I wiped away a tear that was forming in the corner of his eye. "I love you. I don't think I say it enough, or show it enough. I'm sorry you have to put up with someone like me."
He chuckled. "I wouldn't exactly call being with the one you love putting up with them, but if you say so." He pressed a kiss onto my scalded cheek. "But if I have to force myself to be around you 24/7 just so you won't do drugs, I guess I will." His voice was mocking, but also deadly serious. I laughed, without humour. "Alright. But I don't think I'll be doing it again anytime soon."
Matt smiled. "Good, because while you were sleeping for 18 hours, I brought over all your stuff, sold the meth, and told your landlord you were leaving."
It took a moment for my brain to start functioning. "WHAT?" I stared in disbelief at him.
He just smirked. "Yeah, I figure I can't trust you on your own...so you are moved in. Your stuff is in the closet. We share the bed. I figure that we can live around that."
"You, my dear friend, are a complete ass. It was one time." I sighed and looked at the closet. Leather had to be hung a certain way to look good. At least he didn't fold it.
His eyes sparkled, happy that I was acting more like myself. "And you, my only friend in the world, are a complete and total psycho, who made me go through hell for the past 29 hours. I have ass rights."
I smirked in response, and leaned in close to him. "You have rights on my ass?"
He leaned forward, his hot breath on my cheek. I could inhale in the grin he wore. "And you have rights on mine."
A/N Sooo this was inspired by Dlvvanzor's story The Bathroom Floor. Kinda just wanted to write a drug fic. Sorry if my drug knowledge is lacking, it's not like I have experience.
Also, thanks to Dlvvanzor, not just for inspiring this but also being my beta! :)