“Fuck… I think…” she thinks her heart is about to stop, thinks that she got herself into more trouble than she’s fucking realized. All she could do was gasp and gape, pretend that this is the most fucked up part of her night but like - no. Maybe she’d tell him later when she was able to feel that steady thrum within her chest, the way she ought to. But right now, she needs to concentrate on the rhythm, to hold her heartbeat ACCOUNTABLE in a way she never was, she needs to fucking keep breathing, because a part of her really… wants to tell him. Fucking wants to let him know about how fucked up everything was and how her chest fucking hurt before she even shot up that heroin in the car, how seeing Jules had her wanting to puke out of love and fear and not knowing yet what to do with the weight of all that fucking emotion.
Swallow, thicker, her voice comes out a croak - “I think I’m going into cardiac arrest.” how tired her voice sounds, no energy to do much of anything except lean forwards and into him, how being closer makes her feel calm… which perhaps is the worst thing to feel in a moment like ALL SHE WANTED was to slip into some grand, dreamless sleep. She’s high, she’s so fucking high, she doesn’t want to deal with this, to cling onto the ugly pain that warps her heartbeat and has her feeling all kinds of fucked up right now. The sound of him using the butt end of some pill bottle grinding it up against the back of his phone, a paper rolled for her to make things easy as he bends her back, has her snort it through those rasping breaths.
And it takes a second, but she groans, back pressing against the door as a laugh bubbles to the surface, her exhaustion grinding as she chews that sentiment, clears her consciousness. “Oh… god. There it is. There’s my heart.” and there HE WAS TOO, even if he didn’t really know it, her grin left weak and worn, a giggle singing from the back of her throat. “There it is. Holy shit, I thought I was gonna die…” it’s her fault for burying so much of herself beneath an increasingly complex layering of illicit drugs, she collapses, clumsy, against his arm. “You’re my new favourite person…”
°。・:*・゚✧。・゚┈• @redemptioninterlude ;
┈• there was a twitch to his fingers, an uncontrollable tremble and he didn’t know if it was due to the high stress of the situation, or the drugs he was already way too deep into, but it left him looking pathetic and god, maybe he was a little glad RUE was too out of it to notice. that was sick, being grateful she was overdosing so she wouldn’t see his anxiety ridden state. and yet, he found himself comforted by the extra moments he got to calm himself down and hide his shaking hands beneath some towel that was probably dirty, but he didn’t really care.
he stared at her, eyes wide and unblinking. it felt like time had stopped, the pumping of his own blood loud in his ears as he waited to see if this girl, who he wanted to spend every waking moment with, was about to die. 1, 2, 3, 4.. he found himself counting, silent, in his head, as a sad sort of self-soothing practice as he waited for her to spring back to life, and GOD DAMMIT it was taking way too long.
74, 75, 76 ... there she is.
a breath let out, one he didn’t know he was holding, as the blood began to again remember how to circulate through his body. he dropped the phone, not really caring if it hit the linoleum or not, and his hand pressed to the back of her head, fingers momentarily getting stuck in messy tangles of tied up hair, and holding her there as she came to.
❝ if you died, i would’ve been pissed. ❞ he answered, letting go of her, and waiting for her to sit up to meet her eyes. the corners of his lips curled. was it wrong he was already feeling like making a joke of it? ❝ i was already your favourite person, shut the fuck up. ❞ ✧。・゚