Addicted

b>Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Constantine. Don't own Keanu or Shia (if only...). This story was inspired by Kelly Clarkson's song 'Addicted', which I definitely don't own and don't claim to. The story's mine, though. That counts for something, right? /b>

You sit there on the couch, completely oblivious to everything around you. The pattering of the rain outside, the roll of thunder, the cold air in the apartment…nothing. All that matters is that old book sitting in your lap. You absently bite your bottom lip as you read, your lips moving as you read the words to yourself. You're so caught in the old words you don't even notice how my eyes haven't left your face for the last half hour.

Realizing that I'm staring again, I quickly jerk my eyes away and back down to the book. How many times have I had to do that tonight? Too many. More and more, it's like I can't see anything but you. I can't concentrate when you're not around, interrupting me with your endless questions. The days when you're gone seem endless. The nights…even worse. It's like you're a drug. Lately, you're always in my thoughts. In my dreams. You're taking over me.

When did this happen? When was that line crossed? When did you stop being my faithful driver and become…what? What did you become? I don't even know anymore. I try to stop the thoughts that come over me when you're gone and I'm alone. You're seventeen, for God's sake. You have so much life ahead of you. And me. What do I have to face? A short life, then Hell. That's not what you deserve. But I still can't keep the thoughts away.

I'm hooked on you. I realize that now, as I sit and watch you read, your beautiful brown curls falling around your face, your hazel eyes locked on the pages of the book held in your soft hands. I'm addicted to you. To your persistent questions. To your smart ass comments. Even to that stupid hat you always wear. When did those things become so vital to me?

I realize I'm staring yet again and look back down to the book that I'm supposed to be reading, but the words don't even sink in. It's like you're a drug and I need a fix. Just once. Once can't hurt, can it? Just one hit, I promise I can deal with it. Just once to get me through the misery of this life. I look up again and freeze when our eyes collide. You sit there for a minute, not speaking, just looking at me with those beautiful hazel eyes.

I finally realize that you've spoken. I force myself to pay attention, struggle to pull myself out of the entrancing depths of your eyes. You say you're leaving? I fight back the urge to say no, struggle to hold back the part of me that just wants to keep you and hold you close, to forget the world, even if just for one night. It's like you're a ghost that's haunting me, and I don't want you to leave me alone. I know these voices in my head are mine alone. I know I'll never change my ways so I should give you up now. But it's so hard.

Finally, you stand up and walk towards the door, the book still held against your chest. You look back over your shoulder just once, looking back at me, your eyes full of questions, full of emotion. Oh God, how I want to answer those questions, but I can't. It's not fair. You have so much life ahead of you.

So I say nothing. Just sit there and watch you walk out, quiet and subdued. I sit there after you're gone, half a glass of scotch still held in my hands, a cigarette slowly burning down. Finally, I rise and move over to the couch, sitting down in the place you've just left. The couch is still warm and smells of you, sunshine and innocence.

I lay my head down and close my eyes, consumed with thoughts of you. As I fall asleep, knowing I will dream of you, I say the only words I've said all night.

"Good night, Chas."