theodore was livid.

he’d assumed a persistent drug addiction for the bygone few years wouldn’t be detrimental toward his health. it was a fools perception. landing himself in hospital had forced him to abstain from his consumption of substances, and he’d spiralled fitfully into depression with a startling haste. it would’ve scared you shitless, had the psychiatrist not predetermined such an aftermath to his newfound clean streak.

apparently, that streak had been disregarded the moment he’d been prescribed anti-depressants. his reliance upon those was a point for concern. last night, he’d been on the cusp of another detour to the hospital he so desperately attempted to pin in aversion.

but the cause of his vexation was not his current state, no. not his red rimmed eyes and pale, gaunt features. neither was it his trim frame that bordered on underweight. it was due to you having concealed his anti-depressants from him for the time being. with doctors permission, of course.

access to his vices would worsen his condition, to the point of no repair. it was a blood chilling prospect.

“where are my pills? what have you done to them? i need them,” theodore enunciated, as though you were incapable of comprehending such a ’reasonable’ statement. he seemed on the verge of hysteria, rivulets of sweat beading upon the back of his neck.