The beat of the music is hot and heavy, coursing through you like a heartbeat. Thud, thud, thud. You can feel it in your skin, your veins, your bones. Thud, thud, thud. Fuck, it's living. The lights are flashing, warm and bright and dazzling. You're moving to the beat and you keep brushing against this girl with huge tits and a smile that's almost as bright as the lights above. You lean in to nuzzle her neck and she laughs. You can't quite remember her name, but that's okay. Everything's amazing, and you can't stop smiling.
You and Kira had gone to the club earlier that night, fake IDs in hand. Of course they were, though, you're both still underage. Kira's pretty handy to have around, he makes those fake IDs a lot more convincing, between his height and charming as fuck personality. All you have to do is shut the fuck up for five minutes and people would eat shit out of his hand and like it. You're never going to be that fucking charming, what the hell.
You'd both been drinking, but you'd had some ecstasy in the middle of all that. Not Kira, he hasn't really gotten into drugs the way you had. Kinda kept trying to get you to stop, but you didn't want to. Shit feels better than anything else in your life. Like holy shit, it's amazing. Anyway! It took about twenty minutes or so, but you're rolling now. The music's alive in you, and you're alive in it. That girl's still brushing against you while you dance, and you're pretty sure she wants to fuck you just as much as you want to fuck her.
But things start spinning a little when you lean in to loudly whisper the suggestion into her ear. Spinning, spinning, spinning and your stomach's started turning. You get just enough time to think "oh fuck" as the world starts going black around the edges, and you think you hear screaming.The world cuts in and out a few times after that, but it's nothing more than flashes. Kira's face looming over you. The passenger seat of a car. Bright white everywhere, and one thought: "Shit, am I dead?"
You're not dead, but you maybe think you'd be better off when you wake up. Everything hurts, right down to your hair. It doesn't take you long to realize that you're in a hospital, which means you'd overdosed and Kira'd managed to save you. You think you'll have to thank him or some shit later, but you pass out again before you can ask that stern nurse checking your vitals if she can tell you where the hell he is.
The next time you wake up, it's Kira making cracks about sleeping-fucking-beauty and disconnecting you from the approximately half-a-million devices the doctors had deemed neccessary. You put your clothes from the club back on— that smells like vomit, fucking gross. But you're still feeling too out of it to complain, weak and uncoordinated even as Kira's dragging you out of the window. At least you're on the first story.
You weave in and out of consciousness several times on the train, and you're pretty sure you caught yourself drooling on Kira's shirt at least once. Everything still hurts, it's hard to be awake, and you're pretty sure it's been at least an entire fucking day since you had your last cigarette. But your reasonable request to borrow a smoke from Kira— or maybe a beer— gets a threat for a knuckle sandwich instead if you don't shut up.
Fucking rude.
The walk from the station to Kira's place is even longer than the walk from the hospital to the station, and you're pretty sure now you're in your own personal hell. And hell is apparently walking for goddamned ever when you just want to find a bed and sleep until you stop feeling like a walking corpse. Kira remains unsympathetic to your plight. But you get there at long last, and you're pretty sure that you hear some kind of argument between Kira and his dad when you do, but you're honestly not paying attention. Kira and his dad argue constantly, it's about as common as weather happening. Fucking always.
He lets you sleep in his bed, which is kind of nice even though you'd gladly pass out on the floor at this point. But you don't have to, and you sleep through the night. Kira's even got breakfast for you the next morning, and watches you eat before letting you sleep again. Not that you're unwilling, it's nice to have something to eat that isn't the ramen you've been living off of. You sleep some more, and that's pretty fucking great, too.
By the afternoon, you don't feel like a walking corpse anymore, and isn't that a relief. You think to yourself that maybe next time you shouldn't mix booze with your ecstasy, and quietly vow that it'll be one or the other. Never both. Apparently that's a lethal-fucking-combination. At least, that's the suggestion you get online when you look shit up on Kira's computer while he's at school. The Internet is a fucking amazing thing.
Less amazing is that Kira decides to spring your school uniform on you over dinner— stir fry, fucking delicious. It's not that you're not grateful for a change of clothing, you're pretty sick of smelling like vomit, but you'd kind of like real clothes. And then you notice the textbooks and oh hell no, he wants you to go to school tomorrow. But he gives you some goddamned lecture about saving your goddamned life, and how you will go to school tomorrow, and you sullenly agree.
Apparently you owe someone when they save your life, isn't this bullshit?
15. ♦ ODing, getting rescued by Kira (cw drug abuse)
You and Kira had gone to the club earlier that night, fake IDs in hand. Of course they were, though, you're both still underage. Kira's pretty handy to have around, he makes those fake IDs a lot more convincing, between his height and charming as fuck personality. All you have to do is shut the fuck up for five minutes and people would eat shit out of his hand and like it. You're never going to be that fucking charming, what the hell.
You'd both been drinking, but you'd had some ecstasy in the middle of all that. Not Kira, he hasn't really gotten into drugs the way you had. Kinda kept trying to get you to stop, but you didn't want to. Shit feels better than anything else in your life. Like holy shit, it's amazing. Anyway! It took about twenty minutes or so, but you're rolling now. The music's alive in you, and you're alive in it. That girl's still brushing against you while you dance, and you're pretty sure she wants to fuck you just as much as you want to fuck her.
But things start spinning a little when you lean in to loudly whisper the suggestion into her ear. Spinning, spinning, spinning and your stomach's started turning. You get just enough time to think "oh fuck" as the world starts going black around the edges, and you think you hear screaming.The world cuts in and out a few times after that, but it's nothing more than flashes. Kira's face looming over you. The passenger seat of a car. Bright white everywhere, and one thought: "Shit, am I dead?"
You're not dead, but you maybe think you'd be better off when you wake up. Everything hurts, right down to your hair. It doesn't take you long to realize that you're in a hospital, which means you'd overdosed and Kira'd managed to save you. You think you'll have to thank him or some shit later, but you pass out again before you can ask that stern nurse checking your vitals if she can tell you where the hell he is.
The next time you wake up, it's Kira making cracks about sleeping-fucking-beauty and disconnecting you from the approximately half-a-million devices the doctors had deemed neccessary. You put your clothes from the club back on— that smells like vomit, fucking gross. But you're still feeling too out of it to complain, weak and uncoordinated even as Kira's dragging you out of the window. At least you're on the first story.
You weave in and out of consciousness several times on the train, and you're pretty sure you caught yourself drooling on Kira's shirt at least once. Everything still hurts, it's hard to be awake, and you're pretty sure it's been at least an entire fucking day since you had your last cigarette. But your reasonable request to borrow a smoke from Kira— or maybe a beer— gets a threat for a knuckle sandwich instead if you don't shut up.
Fucking rude.
The walk from the station to Kira's place is even longer than the walk from the hospital to the station, and you're pretty sure now you're in your own personal hell. And hell is apparently walking for goddamned ever when you just want to find a bed and sleep until you stop feeling like a walking corpse. Kira remains unsympathetic to your plight. But you get there at long last, and you're pretty sure that you hear some kind of argument between Kira and his dad when you do, but you're honestly not paying attention. Kira and his dad argue constantly, it's about as common as weather happening. Fucking always.
He lets you sleep in his bed, which is kind of nice even though you'd gladly pass out on the floor at this point. But you don't have to, and you sleep through the night. Kira's even got breakfast for you the next morning, and watches you eat before letting you sleep again. Not that you're unwilling, it's nice to have something to eat that isn't the ramen you've been living off of. You sleep some more, and that's pretty fucking great, too.
By the afternoon, you don't feel like a walking corpse anymore, and isn't that a relief. You think to yourself that maybe next time you shouldn't mix booze with your ecstasy, and quietly vow that it'll be one or the other. Never both. Apparently that's a lethal-fucking-combination. At least, that's the suggestion you get online when you look shit up on Kira's computer while he's at school. The Internet is a fucking amazing thing.
Less amazing is that Kira decides to spring your school uniform on you over dinner— stir fry, fucking delicious. It's not that you're not grateful for a change of clothing, you're pretty sick of smelling like vomit, but you'd kind of like real clothes. And then you notice the textbooks and oh hell no, he wants you to go to school tomorrow. But he gives you some goddamned lecture about saving your goddamned life, and how you will go to school tomorrow, and you sullenly agree.
Apparently you owe someone when they save your life, isn't this bullshit?