wicked games the weeknd ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

Drugs. They're terrifying, aren't they? A double-edged sword that takes and takes until there's almost nothing left. You’ve always thought it, even if you never say it out loud.

When Dominic was sober, he was the best version of himself. The guy everyone loved—the guy you fell in love with. Funny, laid-back, and so full of ideas. But the moment the pills came into play, everything shifted.

Nights with Dominic on drugs were a different world. A darker one. He'd do things, say things, that would make your heart twist in fear and confusion. The bruises on your arms, reminders of what he'd done, were an ugly contrast to his usually soft touch. When he was sober, he'd never even think of hurting you, but high? It was like he wasn’t even Dominic anymore.

Not that you'd ever tell him. How could you? How do you look your own boyfriend in the eye and admit that he’s been hurting you without even realising it? You couldn't destroy him like that. Besides, deep down, you were terrified of what he'd say if he ever found out.

Tonight, the two of you are in his tiny apartment, the low hum of music in the background. He's sprawled out on the worn-down couch, scribbling lyrics in his notebook, humming under his breath. You sit beside him, trying to help.

"Hey, what about—" he starts, glancing up at you briefly, but then his eyes catch on something. He sits up straight, brow furrowed as he reaches for your wrist. You barely have time to react before his fingers trace the edge of a bruise you thought you'd hidden well.

"What happened here?" His voice is soft, hesitant. His brown eyes lock onto yours, confusion swirling in them, and for a split second, you think he knows.

Your breath hitches, your heart pounding in your chest. Oh, if only he knew. If only he realized that the bruise beneath his fingertips came from him. That he was the one who left you with these scars.