Angels with dirty faces
Summary: Ivan has fallen into a heroin addiction after the death of his lover Alfred, will he overcome his addiction or will it overcome him in the end?
A/N: My first songfic!
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I need this to get me through…
Ivan hugged his jacket closer to his body, the Moscow streets were cold and unforgiving during the winter. He was standing in the usual alley, waiting and watching with dull amethyst eyes. Scanning for his usual. To his satisfaction, his usual dealer was scurrying towards the alley. The man smiled at him brokenly, his arms were covered in injection marks. Without words being exchanged, both did their usual trade. A bag of smack for a wad of Rubles, the usual.
Can't resist, don't want to…
His hand wavered, his old self would've resisted the temptation, but his old self had died that day. His hand steadied and he grasped the bag firmly in his palm, quickly slipping it into his pocket.
Believe it I know it's true…
He walked back to his trashy apartment, it used to a place filled with happiness and laughter. Now, the floor was littered with hypodermic needles and trash. The signs of a lonely addict. He opened the door and didn't even bother to lock it, the only thing in his apartment was an old bed and a chair.
Can't beat it, don't want to…Try!
He threw his coat down on the floor and sat on the chair, he peered behind the chair and picked up the cloth he tied his arm with. Sighing, he laid it on his lap and looked around for his spoon and lighter. Stopping briefly, he quietly reflected on his current predicament. Did he really want to shoot up? The answer was obvious and he wondered why he even bothered trying to guilt trip himself into stopping. No one cared anyway.
A Perfect Hell…
Still, he didn't take out his smack. Not yet, anyway. He simply looked at his surroundings, the pictures strewn on the floor were dusty and grimy. Old photos of his Alfred, smiling and laughing with his winning smile. He smiled a bitter smile, however it didn't reach his eyes. Pictures and memories engulfed the Russian, yet all of those memories were tainted and the pictures were yellowing. It was his perfect hell.
It's more to me than you ever will know…
He wondered what Alfred would think of him now, succumbing to the same evil bliss that he had. He would frown and cry, trying to help him but…Ivan was past help and he was on his own suicide mission.
Down here, where the rest of us fell…
Those days had been the worst for them. Alfred would sneak away and inject the drug, sighing in ecstasy all the while. Ivan had tried to help but it became tiring and Alfred was only a shell of what he used to be. Not the happy, bubbly teenager, but the stoic, zombie-like shell that barely spoke and cared more for the needle than he did his life.
Waste away, nothing left to show…
Just like Alfred had been, Ivan had lost a lot of his weight and he was mostly skin and bones. Dark circles encircled his eyes and his skin was sickly. The hair upon his head began to thin considerably, and he could swear that he was getting shorter. When Alfred had been hooked, his hair thinned as well and his skin had gone from a healthy tan to a sickly pale that looked unnatural. That was the curse of their forbidden bliss.
While I'm in this perfect hell.
The pain from losing Alfred had gotten to him considerably and he decided to shoot up already. He sighed shakily and took out his smack, he found his lighter and spoon. He melted the heroin in his spoon and tied the cloth around his arm tightly. He loaded the syringe with his bliss and injected it into his arm. He closed his eyes as pure ecstasy enveloped his body.
Obsession has begun…
The love he had for his addiction had come full force and he couldn't even remember why he had hesitated. Why? This had to be the greatest feeling in the world. He hazily realized that the new love of his life was the syringe he had dropped to the floor in his bliss. It gave him happiness, if only for a little bit.
Possessed by destruction.
He could feel it running through his veins like liquid fire, he bit his lip in bliss and tilted his head back. Slowly the feeling started to ebb away, and the depression started to eat away at his bliss. It wasn't long until tears started to roll down his cheeks in a rapid pace.
How did I get so low?
He didn't pick up the needle, instead he cursed himself for using too little of the smack for his first hit. How long did his high last? Not even five minutes. His hands began to shake and he sat back trying to control his emotions.
Believe me, no one knows.
He opened his watery eyes and glanced at the pictures once again, he noticed the older ones of his sisters. They didn't know, God he hoped they didn't know that their strong brother had fallen to a needle. Their strong brother was no longer strong, he was a shell just like Alfred.
Sometimes I can't hold on…
He picked up the cloth again and wrapped it around his arm, tightening it with his teeth. He placed the smack on the spoon and light his lighter. He waited, hypnotized by the flame, for the smack to melt again. He licked his lips in anticipation.
And no one can help me!
He made sure this hit was more than the previous one, and he loaded up his syringe once again. Help wasn't on his mind right then and there, however, when his lover had been going through this help was his top priority.
Now it's got a hold of me…
He leisurely injected himself and nearly slid to the floor by the bliss that overtook his body. Now this is what he liked, he didn't have to think about his actions or Alfred, he didn't have to think about anything anymore.
I don't think I can make it through this.
Fear started to creep into his thoughts, how much had he shot up? Breathing was beginning to get difficult and his stomach kept doing flips. Bile rose in his throat, but he forced it down. The last thing he needed was throwing up all over himself.
The less I do, the more it makes no sense…
He slumped over and tried his hardest to keep the vomit down, to no avail. Sick coated the dirty carpet and the Russian found himself falling forward onto the carpet as well. Was this an overdose? Was his body finally betraying him?
I'm walking pollution, who's drained by delusions.
It felt like his body was shutting down, all the trash and chemicals he had put through his body was finally going to destroy him…Despite the chances that he could die, Ivan could only focus on the retreating bliss. He was chasing a delusion, and every second that delusion was farther and farther away.
On the verge of destruction, I cave in to abduction.
His eyes became heavy as the heroin was destroying his veins. He decided that sleep would be a good idea, you could sleep off an overdose right? A part of his brain was telling him to call the ambulance, but the other part was content with laying in vomit on the floor.
Thin blood, I'm bleeding…
He felt something on his arm that was warm, he turned his head and noticed that his arm had been bleeding. He hadn't injected himself correctly, now that he thought about it, he had pulled the needle out sloppily.
My pulse won't stop racing…
He tried to calm down his heart, it was pounding in his ears relentlessly. He had to admit that it was scaring him. Cold sweat dripped down his face and his body was now feeling cold all over. Dull fear was clouding his mind, and every thought was screaming at him to get help.
Just as my heart explodes.
He tried to get up, but he quickly fell back down, tearing up he turned his head and viewed a smiling picture of Alfred. His blonde hair framed his face nicely and even through the photo his blue eyes were conveying his happiness. Ivan closed his eyes and let tears escape him before opening the purple orbs again. The cold and calm washed over him and as his eyes glazed over, he let a small smile spread across his face.
"…Alfred."
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A/N: Pretty depressing eh? Well, you can blame Sum 41 for that, I love the band! There are more lyrics but I'm too tired to continue so this is it… My first songfic~!