The rain poured at a steady pace as Gamzee stomped his path down the cracked sidewalk. He wasn't sure where he was going or what he was going to do; all he knew was that he needed it. He wanted it. He'd never wanted something this much in his entire life and he would do anything to get it.
The jewelry shop he stopped in front of was obviously closed for the night. Half-lidded indigo orbs watched as the rain water washed down the large storefront window. Gamzee lifted his hand and placed it flat over the store's fanciful logo. Keeping his eyes covered by his soaking hair, he raised his fist and hit it. A small grunt escaped him and his teeth bit down into his bottom lip. The glass didn't even crack, so he hit it again. And again, and again, and again. He punched at the window until blood gushed from his lip and knuckles, but it still stayed solid. Gamzee crashed down onto the cement. It was over. Everything was just over. He couldn't tell if he was angry or sad or if he was feeling anything at all.
For a while, he stayed slouched down in the rain. He barely could gather enough emotion courage to simply breath. There was such a mix of emotion within him that all he wanted to do was stay there and pretend nothing existed. To pretend he didn't exist. Then an idea popped into his fluttering head. Tenth grade health class suddenly told him of other opiates. That was it. In that moment, something clicked and Gamzee's mood swung. Morphine, Oxycotton, Opium itself! Gamzee pushed himself off the cold ground. His balance was off therefore his steps were wobbly and uncoordinated. He smiled and lifted his head to the clouds, "Morphine..." he mumbled.
If he could just get some Morphine or Oxycotton or Vicodin or something, he would be alright for a bit. There were hospitals all around this city; he just needed to go to the right one. A hazy memory popped into his mind of a hospital visit a few months back. The hospital nearest his house was the Seattle General on the south end of town. That had to be the one. He'd only been there once so it's not like they would remember him at all. So he began to take steps southbound. As he walked, all he could keep his mind on was the thought of the delicious drug inside of him. Soon, he broke into an uneven sprint.
"Sir, are you ok?" the nurse at the desk of the ER asked. Gamzee looked at her from his place leaning against the counter. He was gasping for breath due to the run here. He patted his chest and let it fall back to his side, "My... My chest... Chest pain." As he explained his pseudo-ailment to the nurse, he could scarcely keep himself from smirking. He could tell by the look on her face she was buying into his lie. The nurse scurried out from her place behind the desk and helped him keep his balance. She yelled something Gamzee couldn't make out behind his roaring thoughts. Then, other hospital aids were buzzing around him, helping him onto a wheelchair and flooding him with questions he didn't try answering. Gamzee put up nothing of a fight. Quietly, he was set onto the cot in one of the many rooms.
When he was finally left alone by the swarm of aids and nurses and only a few remained to set up the drips and what not, he glanced down at his left arm. His eyes went wide for a moment and then he shoved the bruised, punctured thing underneath the sheets. A sly smile stretched along his mouth; his head lulled around on the pillow in anticipation for that precious Morphine drip he knew he would be administered. Then there was a pinch in his free arm and with it came a warm, familiar rush.
"Thanks," he mumbled as his body relaxed into the hospital mattress, "I feel much better." Unsuspecting, the nurse who had stuck him with the needle nodded at him with a smile and patted his hand. And with that, she was gone.
Hours passed. Gamzee waited until most of the lights in the hallway had gone dark. Reluctantly, Gamzee pulled the Morphine drip and other various IV's out of his arm. He needs much more than that, so he would get more. With one hand placed on the room's doorknob, he carefully opened the door. The hallway was empty, quiet and dimmed. His every step echoed through the hospital; his feet made little sticking noises as he walked on the tiles. All he had to do was find the room where everything was stashed. It couldn't be far off. The worst he might have to do is go down a few floors. Even with his mind racing and eyes fluttering with Morphine in his brain, he still knew that the store room wouldn't be on any form of directory. Dragging his feet down the hall, Gamzee glanced into almost every room. Nothing was going to stop him. If he had to die to get what he craved so badly, then by God he would do just that. The pace of his breath became quicker the more frustrated he got and the more he thought about finding that wonderful store room.
Time passed and Gamzee grew more and more anxious. It's right in front of him, he can feel it, he simply can't reach it. He stopped and leaned against the wall behind him for a short break in his search. It felt like he had been searching for hours and hours. Sweat dripped down his body, and his clothes stuck to him like glue. The clock plastered to the wall read 3:50 AM. He'd only been searching for upwards of an hour and a half. A long, drawn out sigh escaped him as he set his head against the wall. The looks of the hallway, the scant amount of doors and lack of any decor, indicated that this was no place for a patient to be. The eerie quality around him didn't scare him; but gave him a sense of hope and security. Maybe he still had a chance to find that sweet, honey-colored drug. Gamzee got back to his feet and rustled his own hair before continuing on.
Instead of simply looking inside the doors, he actually tried to open them this time around. Of course, the majority of them were locked. Gamzee was just about ready to give u when he noticed a single door at the very end of the hallway. The walk over to the door seemed something like an eternity. Every part of him was telling him this was the right one. Everything would be ok when he opened it. His feet stopped only when the tips of his bare toes touched the bottom of the storage room entry way. A demented smile crept over Gamzee's teeth. His slim, unpainted face was twitching with all the excitement in his scrawny body. With trembling hands, he reached for the doorknob. He flicked his wrist and expected the doorknob to follow. It didn't. Gamzee furrowed his brows and twisted again. Every turn became more frustrated and frantic.
"Sir?" The voice echoed all around him as though it was in a never ending tunnel. It was small and feminine and frankly quite cute. His teeth clenched together and ground in pure rage.
"Yes, dear?" he mused as he turned on his heel to face her. The girl in front of him was obviously a nurse arriving for the first shift of the day. To him, she looked like a little girl. Her round, kitten-like face and short curly hair didn't help much either. She stepped closer to him with a smile on her face, "I'm sorry, but shouldn't you be in your room? It's rather early and you look like you need some sleep."
Her smile was warm and welcoming as well as innocent as she took his hand and pulled him toward the patient's wing. A low growl escaped Gamzee's lungs and that's when he noticed the keys dangling from her belt loop. One of them had to open that door. A jolt of adrenaline shot through his weak body. He stopped in his tracks, stopping the nurse along with him. In a single swift movement he pulled her over to him

The kitten-like nurse gasped when her body collided with his, "Sir, let me go." Gamzee hummed and smiled down at her, "Why should I? I ain't got no reason to." With his words, their bodies swayed around the hallway in a drunken waltz.

"Let me go! I've got to take you back to your room!" She said as she began to struggle against his grasp. Struggling was probably the worst thing she could have done in this situation. When she started to squirm, Gamzee took her wrists and shoved her against the wall. He shook his head; his face only inches from hers. Indigo eyes impaled her as he examined her body from head to toe. Eventually, they stopped at her face. Olive colored orbs filled with salty tears as he spoke.

"Nepeta Leijon, huh?" he questioned as he ripped the nametag off her chest, "Cute little name for a cute little kitty." His voice was low and seemed to match the constant swiveling of his head and body. "How about you give me those keys? I'll promise not to hurt you too bad if you do."

"I'm not giving you anything, you freak!" she spat in his face. Silently, she watched as he wiped the drops of her salvia from his unpainted face. He growled loudly and shoved a hand over her neck. Baring his teeth, he dragged her up the wall; pushing her a few inches over the top of his head.

"Give me the motherfucking keys," he grumbled, "And maybe I won't f-fucking end your miserable life." Suddenly, he could feel himself loosing control; tripping over his words and what not. Nepeta was taking in ragged, short breaths and clawing at his single hand. Soon enough, the pressure on her airway became too much. Her battle became slow and unsteady and eventually she went limp. Gamzee smiled to himself and watched her body crumble to the floor. He knew even in his daze that she was only unconscious and wouldn't stay that way for long. He quickly crouched down snatched the keys from her belt.

All he wanted was to get that damn door open. He scrambled to find the right key. Turns out the seventh key on the ring was the one. The door swung open and smacked against the wall behind it. The first step into that room was as though Gamzee had died and gone to a junkie's heaven. His eyes were immediately drawn to the soft yellow glow in a cabinet on the far right. There. There is was. He shuffled over to the cabinet in a dizzy rush and began shoving vials into everywhere he could think of. Down his pants, in his pockets, he even put some down his shirt and held them against his skin. The happiness and adrenaline electrifying his brain cells was like nothing he'd ever felt before without the aid of some sort of drug. Shaking hands grabbed at vials until he could practically carry no more. As he walked hurriedly out of the room, a few of the glass containers dropped and shattered on the tile, but he paid no mind.

Sloppily, he shuffled throughout the hospital. Nurses and doctors alike tried to stop him, but he simply kept pushing them all away. His head was fuzzy and pounding lightly. But he knew he had to at least get home before he could black out. The sun was rising. Gamzee could see the sun coming through the front doors. He couldn't wait to feel the sense of freedom that those rays of light gave. Then, after what seemed like forever, Gamzee busted his way out the two glass doors. He'd done it. He'd gotten what he craved and it took almost no effort. Gamzee barreled down the sidewalk toward his apartment all the while smiling and chuckling at his success. That's when he ran right smack into Karkat.