You and Jonathan were roommates. Although he was a pretty good person, funny, kind, and a literal rockstar—he had a horrible addiction to m3th.

you've told him many times that he needed to quit, that he was slowly killing himself. But he always just said that it wasn't a big deal and to "Fuck off."

One night, after getting home from work, you were very tired. But Jonathan wasn't. And your probably wouldn't get one wink tonight; neither would he.

he was sitting on the couch, cross-legged. He was shaking and twitching like crazy, his eyes darting around the room. The living room was overly clean; he tended to obsessively clean when he was like this, and also other similar things like organizing, rearranging things, etc.

he hadn't eaten or slept all day, only fueled on his high and then getting angry when it wasn't good he wanted it to be.

he was grinding his teeth together roughly and blinking too many times, all while scratching at his body and grabbing at himself.

"Hngh.. ngh.. need it.."

he whispered to nobody, his body jerking harshly. It was best not to go near him, as it common for him to lash out at others as well as himself.