I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. You see, I'm not always the best at coming up with things on the spot. I often end up blurting out unintelligible sentences, bad advice, secrets I promised never to tell, and so on.

I stayed quiet, carefully thinking over my words and how to put my thoughts into a sentence. Anger. Betrayal. Sadness. Emptiness.

"Are you gonna say anything?" He asked, a hopeful but worried look in his eyes.

I shrugged and averted my gaze, focusing on the chipping paint on the corner of the bathroom door. "Sorry," I sighed, "I don't know what to say."

Kenny closed his eyes and reached out for my hand. I didn't accept the offer, and moved father away. Kenny leaned in towards me, his eyes pleading for something from me. Anything. He looked so desperate.

"You're so fucking stupid."

He looked relieved, in a sense. "I know."

"What would make you want to start doing something like that? We've talked about stuff like this…"

Ken leaned back, biting his bottom lip nervously. He attempted to reach for my hand again. I defensively backed up, and punched him.

"Kyle, what the fuck?" He screamed, bringing his hand up to cover his eye.

"No! Kenny! You're ruining your fucking life! We've been together for two years. How long did you expect to hide this from me for?"

"I… I was planning on stopping… I didn't…"

"How long have you been on this shit?!"

He stood up, grabbing onto the sink and looking at his eye in the mirror. "That's not important," he calmly stated, avoiding my question. "What's important is that I'm going to stop. I'm done with this shit, okay?"

I laughed sarcastically, "Oh please," I shook my head, "You think you're going to give up heroine that easily?"

"I've been trying to stop for a while."

"Trying? And that obviously didn't work out. What makes it any different this time?"

"What do you want me to say?!"

"There's nothing to say," I replied, "You should have never started in the first place. I'm done with you. Done."

He stood up, picking up a needle and a small bag from the floor. I jumped up, and confiscated it from his grasp, throwing it down the stairs behind me.

"Kyle!"

"Just tell me…" I began, slowly breathing in. "How long have you been on this for?"

Kenny ran his hand through his hair, sighing and stepping outside of the bathroom. "Seven months."

My face was blank. "Why?"

He shook his head and shrugged. "I didn't think it would be a big deal at first. I kinda figured it would be a one time thing. I just thought… I don't know what I thought."

I leaned against the wall, and let go.

Tears began pouring down my face. I couldn't hold it back anymore. Why would he start something like this in the first place? I slid down to the floor. I pulled my knees into my chest and cried. I don't cry. I never cry.

"Look… Kyle… it's gonna be okay. Please, don't leave me. Reconsider it. This is a time where I'm going to need you more than anything. You can't leave. I don't know what I'll do without you."

I got up from my position on the floor, making my way towards the top on the stairs.

"Fuck you," I whispered, wiping the tears away from my eyes and leaving his house.

I haven't written anything on here in almost 2 years. Please leave reviews, critiques, opinions, suggestions, and tell me if you think I should make this more than just a short story. Hopefully I'll be back to writing!