Addicted

My Sweet Prince

He opened his eyes slowly, and blearily his surroundings came into view. His living room so nicely provided by The Company. Groggily, he shook his head, trying to clear it. Slowly, slo-owly, everything came into focus. The sofa, the TV, his phone. And the coffee table. Nothing special about that 'til he looked closer. Lying there was his salvation: a hypodermic syringe, tinfoil, a lighter, cotton wool, a spoon and a bag of very expensive heroin only a Turk could afford. Oh, there were other things too. A few cartons of cigarettes, a bottle of vodka, a cell phone and his keys.

Living like this was nice, he reflected. When he was younger all he could afford was the stuff that was cut with so much other shit it got you more paralytic than high, and you hovered rather than flew. As he was thinking about this, a familiar gnawing pain started inside of him. He knew what it meant. He had the means to stop it right there.

He got up, holding his head and made his way through beer cans and takeaway cartons to the table. Anticipating a fix was painful, he thought, but the sooner you got it the better. He rolled up his shirtsleeves; the track marks like vines up his arm. His hand shaking slightly, he emptied a little amount of the heroin onto the spoon and proceeded readying it, the pain in his stomach getting slowly worse. Finally, it was ready. This was the moment of glory, as he pushed the needle into a pre-prepared vein and moved the plunger down slowly, a heady mixture of junk and relief flooding him almost instantly. He smiled for the first time that morning, the pain evaporating. Euphoria soon took over, twisting the living room out of perspective as he was lost in the high. All the pain floated away, all the anger went, and he was floating too. Warmth and drowsiness enveloped him, as if he was wrapped in a blanket with a smoky haze in front of his eyes.

The shrill ring of his phone cut through the reverie, and scowling he answered it with a curt, "What?!"

"Reno?" came Elena's voice.

"No, it's the fuckin' Queen of Midgar. Of COURSE it's me!" he snapped, irritated at Elena's intrusion.

Elena whimpered slightly at the venom in his voice, but continued all the same. "Reno, there's been a change of plan…you'll have to come into work today…"

Reno growled inwardly. "Tell 'em to go fuck themselves. I'm not goin' NOWHERE."

"But…Reno…"

"No."

He was bloody annoyed now. Elena had made him come so far down from the sought-after high he was six under. And yet she was still whining at him. Finally, he gave in, yelling, "Fine! I'll be there in ten fuckin' minutes." and slamming the phone down, now completely at a loss. He drank some water quickly and grabbed his keys. The drive to the office was short enough, but he was still pissed off. He'd planned to dedicate that morning to getting high and watching rubbishy daytime television, but that had been blown out of the water. He swung the car into the parking lot, making a mental note to unplug his phone on his next day off. It was just lucky for Elena that he felt comparatively normal now. But just in case, there was a small baggie of smack and a bit of tinfoil stuffed into his pocket, along with the obligatory cigarettes and lighter.

A few minutes later he reached the floor reserved for the Turks' lounge and offices. Elena came running out to meet him, looking a little worse for wear. "Reno," she greeted him, still seeming slightly apprehensive. "Thank God you're here!"

"Why?" he replied, puzzled and agitated at the same time. "What have you fucked up now?"

Elena chose to ignore this remark, and went on. "You see, there's been a mistake. You've got a hell of a lot of paperwork to do and your day off isn't 'til next week!"

"Paperwork. Great." He said, irate.

"I'm sorry, Reno…but it needs to be done…" Elena said, shaking slightly.

Reno softened. "Not your fault, kid. Don't beat yourself up about it, eh?"

Elena smiled. "Yes, sir!"

"Now get out of my sight."

A packet of cigarettes and three cups of coffee later, Reno was about halfway through his work. I wanted to do this job for the killin', not the paperwork! He thought irritably, but that familiar pain interrupted his train of thought yet again. Not now, he told it crossly. For fuck's sake.

But it was unavoidable. Sighing, he headed for the bathroom, checking the coast was clear first. He set the drug onto the tinfoil and melted it, a thick, sweet smell encompassing him. He breathed in the fumes and smoke curling up from the foil. As he began disposing of the foil, a voice spoke up behind him.

"Reno…" it was Tseng. Shit.

"Tseng! What the fuck are you doing here?!" he said, sounding slightly more panicked than he would've liked.

"Heroin, Reno?" Tseng said, with his customary even tone of voice. "It'll only kill you."

"Like you'd understand," Reno said, aggravated. "As if you'd even fuckin' understand."

Tseng lifted his head slightly, meeting Reno's glare. "Try me."

Reno pretended not to notice Tseng's massive pupils and the razorblade in his hand, smirking inwardly. "When you grew up like I did, you needed somethin' to block out everything around you."

"How did you grow up, Reno?" Tseng said quietly, his voice inviting confidence and promising secrecy.

"My dad left when I was a kid and my Mom's boyfriend beat the shit outta me for kicks, so I ran away from home."

"I'm sorry," Tseng said simply.

Reno laughed bitterly. "Don't be. I'm not. Only thing I regret is, I left my sister behind, an' I don't even wanna think 'bout what that son of a bitch could be doin' to her…"

Tseng looked momentarily shocked, but soon resumed his stoic expression. "You have a sister?"

"She was beautiful. Such a good girl. Didn't belong in the slums at all. We didn't deserve her. She was sweet and pretty and smart, and not a bit like me. I woulda brought her with me, but I didn't wanna let her see the stuff I do because she's not like that. She doesn't wanna see me snorting coke or gettin' smashed or smokin' whatever comes to hand. Hell, I don't wanna let her see me do those things." Reno's face fell.

Tseng blinked. "I…"

"Save it." Reno said, his voice resuming its previous toughness. "You snort what you want to snort and I'll inhale whatever I want, deal?"

Tseng once again looked taken aback, and walked out of the room, presumably back to his desk. Reno rubbed his eyes and headed out as well, the pain in his stomach dealt with for now.

It was strange, he thought idly. In a way, the I-need-junk philosophy was his metaphysic, his raison-d'être. It was almost as addictive as the drug itself- that slow, sluggish feeling of dying and the pain. Gods, the pain…it gave him a reason to exist and showed him he was alive- he couldn't feel it if he was dead, could he? It was even comforting, this confirmation he was alive and its ability to block out the pain. Pain and pleasure were in equilibrium here- the pleasure of the junk and all its trappings and the pain he'd left behind him which resurfaced as much as the need for another fix did. Sure, it was a destroying existence, but he liked it. It kept him alive.

Fin.