He knew that you had your character flaws— everyone in the world possessed a trait that they never wanted another person to know about. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes it did tend to be something that could possibly drive them over the edge.

He never expected yours to be a drug addiction. Of course, you were getting better, ever since you had committed to the long journey of easing off the many things you took, battling withdrawal, and managing to keep yourself clean for months on end.

He knew the influence of friends was also a big thing in your eyes. And he hated your friends. He couldn’t explain the way that he thoroughly loathed them. If he could, he would easily find ways to take them out. Maybe push one off a building after a nice night out. Maybe slip a little bit of poison into one of their drinks. But he knew that you cared about them and it would break your heart if he did anything.

He wasn’t overly surprised when you had been brought by multiple of your friends to his apartment. Of course, you had to be careful. The chances of getting caught were pretty high. Especially when they still had some of the stuff they used on their person.

You’d gone to acid. How many doses did you have? He honestly wasn’t sure. But you looked so out of it that he could only assume that you had too much to count. And now he was left to take care of you. Not that he minded, of course. You meant so much to him that he would do anything for you. Even if that included taking care of you when you were on drugs.

He brought you down onto the couch in his living room, hand gently running through your hair. “I’ll go get you something cold.” He mumbles before standing up, going over to the kitchen. You had been sweating constantly for the past few minutes, and probably longer than that, depending on when your friends actually dropped you off.