Delirium

.nine

Stay high so your thoughts can remain low

Sept. 12th

Elliot and I once got into this serious conversation about the police. We had just been sitting in the car, waiting for one of Elliot's dealers to bring him something and I had asked him what he would do if I got arrested by the police. Would he kill me like he did everyone else if they were forcing me to talk about him?

It was obvious that Elliot was displeased with the conversation, but he still answered my question nevertheless. He told me that he wouldn't have me killed. He trusted me and something about that scared me. I was scared by the trust that he had with me and if something happened to where I did end up cracking under the pressure... I didn't want to ever disappoint him by my weakness.

So I told him that I wanted him to kill me instead.

Fuck.

I never knew I could be so content with the thought of dying than at that moment. I would always love Elliot and I would always want to protect him.

Even if it would cost my life.

-Cyan

~

Cyan held the cigarette between his cold fingers as he looked out at the dark sky and leaned over the balcony. His phone read two in the morning and yet it didn't feel that early to him. He was bored and wide awake and wished that Elliot was still here to cure him of it. But, he wasn't and wouldn't be for a while, so what was Cyan supposed to do?

He crushed the cigarette in his fingers in frustration, ignoring the burn from the ash. As far as drugs went, Elliot left nothing and only at that moment did Cyan wish he was in a hospital. Whatever they had him hooked up to had eased his withdrawal symptoms and had made it tolerable, but now he was all alone and had nothing except fucking cheap cigarettes and expensive alcohol. Still, it wouldn't give him the same effects.

He didn't want to get drunk anyway, the inevitable hangover would only add to his pain. So he chain-smoked until he had reached back in the pack only to find it empty.

"Fuck," he growled in annoyance, standing up and walking back into the warm apartment. Maybe he should try to go to sleep. Maybe he could try and get in contact with someone Elliot knew to bring him something. Anything.

Cyan held up his hand, finding his fingers trembling slightly before shoving them hard into the pocket of his sweatpants. Considering Elliot hated when Cyan and the people he knew associated, Cyan decided not to do it, choosing sleep instead.

Falling into the bed, Cyan surrounded himself in the blankets that strongly held the scent of Elliot, burying his face in them. For a moment, it helped him forget the pain and nausea that he felt right now. Just slightly. Cyan had closed his eyes, not even for a full hour before he was out.

~

It didn't take long for Cyan to become uncomfortable with the withdrawal of drugs, the craving for it becoming too overwhelming. Elliot should've known that this would've been too much for him. He should've known that Cyan had no self-control and couldn't just go cold turkey.

He should've known that Cyan would've gone out to find a fix.

Tired and with a slight tremor in his hand, Cyan was walking the streets down the "bad" neighborhood, knowing that he'll find someone eventually. There was always drug dealers looking for new clients and more money and Cyan was more than willing to hand over the cash.