SID JENKINS ; orange bottles
summary ; you have to shove pills down your throat to make you a functional human being, you hate it, but you also need them
warnings ; language, pills / medication, blood, halfway implied drug abuse / overdosing but it doesnt actually happen
disclaimers ; reader has adhd, this is a mix of how shitty it feels to be on meds that dont rlly work for you is + faking being on meds for validation, i got in my feels for zero reason & since i cant commit to a full fanfic for sid im using my ocs plotline pieces for this yuh
word count ; 1.4k
track ; ritalin, dexter and the moonrocks
masterlist
You hold a hand over your nose, eyes stuck on the ceiling. You frantically rush across the room, blindly reaching for the tissue box under the chalkboard. You grab two, one to replace your hand, the other to actually ball and clump up to catch the blood pouring from your nose.
Out of the corners of your eyes, you can see some of your classmates, even your teacher, staring at you. You wouldn't be able to help yourself if you were in their shoes either, this is the fourth time this week, and it's only Wednesday. After a moment and four wasted, bloodsoaked tissues, you make your way back to your desk.
Sid nervously glances at you as you sit, fidgeting with his pencil. He fears you'll scold him after class, tell him this is why you don't like taking your meds.
You're not yourself without it, nobody else would rather see you finish it, but you're fucking over it. It always makes you sick. The nosebleeds, the stomach sickness, lack of appetite, how it slowly shoves you into some depressive hole that's so hard to escape. But then, if you don't take it, you're stuck alone with all the things that want to drive you into insanity. The inability to focus, procrastination, hyperactivity, impulsive thoughts and actions.
You're stuck between a rock and a hard place.
After class, Sid waits for you at the door, wishing to walk you to your next class like he usually does. You move to him, making sure you grab a pump of hand sanitizer before heading out to clean off your bloodstained fingertips. He's sort of quiet today, more than usual.
"You okay?" you ask with an agitated tone. It catches him off gaurd.
He raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Yeah? What's with you?"
You don't answer. You get agitated when you actually take your meds. In your (and Chris', and Tony's, and Michelle's) opinions, it takes away all your fun. They encourage you to stay off your meds, seriously. Well, Chris is half and half. He wants you to be healthy, but he also fears you'll get a pill problem like he does. He's like your brother in a way, a brother who worries for his sibling.
"What's wrong?" Sid presses.
You shrug and mutter, "Nothing."
"Clearly somethin', Y/n,"
"Hate my meds." you answer, "Makes me all ill, but if I don't take it, I turn into some hyperactive monster." you grumble, "Not myself."
He frowns and looks away, unaware of what to say to try and make it better. "I'm sorry."
"I don't want sympathy," you sigh, shaking your head, "You don't even really know what I'm like when I'm not on my meds. How it is when I can't mask."
"Mask?" he presses, confused by the word choice.
"Like, trying to act normal when you can't," you explain with an edged tone, "Like, when your dad died, you just had to act normal, but inside you needed to scream and cry and get it all out."
He feels a pang in his heart when you so casually mention his dad... and him dying. It hurts, but he assumes that's a good way to put it if you were using it as an example. You don't judt bring up people's trauma in everyday conversation. You're trying to actually help him understand. And it works, surprisingly.
He nods along.
"Get it?"
He nods again.
Maxxie approaches from behind, swooping you both into his arms. "Hey! You guys comin' to the club this weekend?"
You share a look with Sid, asking him if you are like you can't make a choice for yourself. Sid typically isn't a party person, but he's also grieving and in mental pain, so he nods instead of the typical shake.
"Awesome!" the blonde smiles, turning to you, "Down for rainbow shots?"
You nod with a little smile, trying not to be an asshole to Maxxie. He nods before wandering off, having spotted Anwar in a crowd of kids headed towards where you'd just come from.
"Shots?" Sid questions, "Aren't you supposed to not drink when you're on and off meds like that? You don't even drink?" his voice slightly raises in confusion and surprise.
You shrug, "You don't even party."
By the time Saturday had rolled around, you stopped taking your meds again, leaving you totally incapable of focusing or making well thought out decisions for four days. You were slightly pissed at Sid for thinking meds will just fix you and you'll have no problem going on and off medicine you need switched. Ritalin is too much for you, but your insurance won't cover Adderall for whatever reason.
You were at the bar with Maxxie and Chris when Sid showed up in a panic. You'd been at his house earlier in the afternoon and left a previously filled pill bottle at his place. It had eight or so pills in it when he saw it in the mesh drink holder on the side of your backpack, and when he found it discarded in his bathroom can, it was empty. The prescription read one dose a day.
You took eight doses.
He feared you were already overdosing in a dark corner where no one would see you, where no one would care to pay attention to you. He clutched that bottle and ran four miles in the rain to get there as fast as he could. He was soaking wet, dripping droplets of water on the dance floor as he frantically searched for you.
He spotted you from the stairs, where he had a bit of high ground. You always stick out like a sore thumb to him. It's hard to not see you when he's so obsessed with you. He's not obsessed, per say, but he doesn't see you as just some friend of his. You're different. The world stops when you look at him.
That's why he sprinted four miles in the rain, in fear you wouldn't make it out of this club. He genuinley cared. He didn't want to see you geeked out of your mind, but if it meant you wouldn't die, then he'd be plenty fine.
He rushes to you, shoving through a swarm of people on a light up floor under a disco ball and flashing colorful lights. He sees you taking shots with Maxxie while Chris watched from between you, seemingly commentating. You were racing shots after taking a very high dosage of prescription pills, awesome.
He practically falls into you, grabbing you by the shoulders. You drop a glass in fear, not registering it's just Sid for a solid moment. Your heart nearly stopped before you understood it was just Sid, probably excited to see you, maybe needing to tell you something juicy about Tony and Michelle.
"What did you do?!" he screams over the thumping music, "Why?!"
"What?" you question, trying to sweep broken glass with your sneakers, "Sid, what are you on about?"
He grabs your hand and pulls you away from a very confused pair of Maxxie and Chris, and an angry bartender. He drags you somewhere quieter, aka the graffiti'd bathroom, and holds up the empty pill bottle.
"Are you trying to overdose?"
"Huh?" you question, completely confused.
"The pills, fuck!" he shouts, "There were like, eight in here earlier, and now they're all gone!"
Oh. Pfft.
"Those were just Tic-Tacs, Sid." you sigh, a nervous, yet grateful smile on your face.
"Fuck you mean, Tic-Tacs?!"
"They were just candy in an old bottle, Sid," you laugh, "Just trying to trick people into thinking I took my meds."
He's silent for a moment, "Why not just take your meds?"
You shrug while chewing on the inside of your cheek, "Makes me sick. You want me to take 'em. Maxxie wants me to take 'em, and Jal, and Anwar, and Chris, even Cass."
He frowns, "You scared the fuck outta me, Y/n/n, Jesus."
"Sorry," you frown, biting your lip nervously, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
He shakes his head, "No, no, it's fine," he sighs, pulling you into a hug, "Just... glad you're fine."
You nod, resting your head on his shoulder as you sit on the ledge of the sinks. "Sorry, Sid."
"No sorry," he whispers, clutching the orange bottle in his hand so tight it may crack and break, "Just don't do that again."
You nod again, "My insurance won't let me switch to Adderall, it'll probably be better for me."
"We'll figure it out, 'kay?" he exhales, "I'll help you."
"Thanks, Sid."
