[ooc] 008. Addicted [For thankyoumrstark]
Minutes turned to hours, turned to days, turned to weeks. He couldn't remember any of it. Not anymore. As much as he tried, he just drew a blank. His failure to remember just made him spiral further. One after another, they disappeared. It was all piling up, creating one big mess. He'd spent so long just going through the motions and pretending everything was alright. Smile at all the right people and shake the proper hands. No one would ever know anything was wrong.
But she did.
She watched nearly helpless as his slow and steady decline became something that was out of control. She tried to speak with him again and again, but she was simply brushed off like anyone else. Except she wasn't just anyone else. It was for that reason that she hated not being able to help him. She hated having to sit back and watch him destroy himself. She meant the words she said that day. She used to cherish them because they were so special to her, but as she watched him be consumed by his own demons, those words started to terrify her.
"You're all I have, too, you know."
Up the stairs, hand sliding along the wall to keep him steady. It was late. He actually noticed that it was late for once. He could hear the clacking of computer keys. She hadn't gone home for the night. He was surprised. She'd been going home earlier and earlier as of late. He noticed that, too. What he didn't notice was that the room grew silent and she'd risen from the seat she'd long since taken up on the sofa.
She approached him and he instinctively pulled back the bottle he didn't realize that he'd been holding. She spoke in soft tones and held her hand out. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but he understood her intent. He indignantly took a drink from the bottle. She took that chance to snatch it away from him.
He yelled and she took it, like she'd gotten so used to doing, lately. She stood her ground as he took a few steps closer, despite the sudden overwhelming desire to shrink away. She did her best to ignore the harsh words. They hurt, but knowing he didn't mean them, helped. He was breaking her down, though. The way his words grew more harsh everytime she pulled the bottle further out of his reach. The way his face contorted in anger. It was breaking her resolve. She stared at him, straight-faced, and just listened, as she'd gotten so used to doing, lately. She was the only one he had.
She stumbled forward and lost her footing as he managed to get a grip on the bottle, and angrily ripped it from her hands. On her hands and knees at his feet while he triumphantly emptied the bottle of it's contents, her tears finally started to fall. Frustration, anger, saddness, so many different emotions all pouring out of her at once. She couldn't take it anymore, and she told him as much. After so long, she finally cracked. She told him that she was leaving, and that she wouldn't be back. Her tone of voice left no room for misinterpretation. Even he understood. He quieted as she got to her feet and brushed herself off. Back to the sofa to collect her things. She pushed a piece of paper against his chest as she passed. She explained that this had been a long time coming. She told him that normally, he would have noticed. She stopped at the doorway and told him that she hated what he'd become.
Realization hit. She was leaving. She wasn't coming back. Her words really didn't make much sense to him, but the look on her face, her tone of voice, even the way she carried herself, they all said it to him. She was serious this time. He pulled the paper from his chest, barely making out what it said, beyond the title. He didn't need to see anything else, though. Bottle and paper, both, dropped from his hands. When did it go that far?
"Don't go."
She turned.
"I need your help. I think I have a problem."
But she did.
She watched nearly helpless as his slow and steady decline became something that was out of control. She tried to speak with him again and again, but she was simply brushed off like anyone else. Except she wasn't just anyone else. It was for that reason that she hated not being able to help him. She hated having to sit back and watch him destroy himself. She meant the words she said that day. She used to cherish them because they were so special to her, but as she watched him be consumed by his own demons, those words started to terrify her.
"You're all I have, too, you know."
Up the stairs, hand sliding along the wall to keep him steady. It was late. He actually noticed that it was late for once. He could hear the clacking of computer keys. She hadn't gone home for the night. He was surprised. She'd been going home earlier and earlier as of late. He noticed that, too. What he didn't notice was that the room grew silent and she'd risen from the seat she'd long since taken up on the sofa.
She approached him and he instinctively pulled back the bottle he didn't realize that he'd been holding. She spoke in soft tones and held her hand out. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but he understood her intent. He indignantly took a drink from the bottle. She took that chance to snatch it away from him.
He yelled and she took it, like she'd gotten so used to doing, lately. She stood her ground as he took a few steps closer, despite the sudden overwhelming desire to shrink away. She did her best to ignore the harsh words. They hurt, but knowing he didn't mean them, helped. He was breaking her down, though. The way his words grew more harsh everytime she pulled the bottle further out of his reach. The way his face contorted in anger. It was breaking her resolve. She stared at him, straight-faced, and just listened, as she'd gotten so used to doing, lately. She was the only one he had.
She stumbled forward and lost her footing as he managed to get a grip on the bottle, and angrily ripped it from her hands. On her hands and knees at his feet while he triumphantly emptied the bottle of it's contents, her tears finally started to fall. Frustration, anger, saddness, so many different emotions all pouring out of her at once. She couldn't take it anymore, and she told him as much. After so long, she finally cracked. She told him that she was leaving, and that she wouldn't be back. Her tone of voice left no room for misinterpretation. Even he understood. He quieted as she got to her feet and brushed herself off. Back to the sofa to collect her things. She pushed a piece of paper against his chest as she passed. She explained that this had been a long time coming. She told him that normally, he would have noticed. She stopped at the doorway and told him that she hated what he'd become.
Realization hit. She was leaving. She wasn't coming back. Her words really didn't make much sense to him, but the look on her face, her tone of voice, even the way she carried herself, they all said it to him. She was serious this time. He pulled the paper from his chest, barely making out what it said, beyond the title. He didn't need to see anything else, though. Bottle and paper, both, dropped from his hands. When did it go that far?
"Don't go."
She turned.
"I need your help. I think I have a problem."