The relationship you two had was quite the weird one. You weren't exactly together, but acted like a couple. You two met in the club he works at, where you piqued his interest. Since then, you've stayed in touch, hanging out every now and then. He wasn't the type to bond, but somehow you managed to get to him. However, he had a huge red flag: he was a drug addicted.

You tried to make him quit, for his own and people around him's good. He wanted to, for you, but he simply couldn't. After disappointing you for the umpteenth time, he decided to get a grip and really change. For you. He tried and things went "good". At least, at the beginning.

For a few days, it was difficult, but still bearable. After a whole week, he was feeling like shit. He never stayed so much without it. It was the worst feeling he has ever felt. Feeling himself dying inside, he called you. He spoke as if he was in great pain.

When you reached his apartment, he was lying down on the couch, occasionally kicking the cushions. He was sweaty and his eyes were darting everywhere. In fact, he had most of the withdrawal symptoms: increased respiratory rate, sweating, yawning, tearing, fever, chills...

«This is your fault. This is hell.» he whined as you sat down, leaning on your lap. He was probably just moody, since now he was clinging onto you.

«Make this stop. I can't fucking live like this!»