Terrorcest one shots

Heart Failure

A/N: so this is gonna be my first ever song fic. I've had some stories loosely based off of songs, but this story is legitimately based off of Heart Failure by Sixx A.M. with some elements from Courtesy Call (also Sixx A.M.)

Enjoy!!

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Nikki Sixx- 1998
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When I think back on this life I guess we were doing the best we could And to look at us from the outside I'm sure it seems somewhat romantic but when you've tasted excess Everything else tastes bland Yeah, we had everything to lose But we still lived like we were about to die After all, we were the drug scouts of America

I fucked up royally. What's new? What's fucking new in this tormenting shithole I call a mind?

I'm such an idiot and I absolutely hate myself. I just got clean ten  years ago, only to throw it all away on my mother. Or I should say, throw it away because of my mother. I don't know why I still let her control my life. She's never given a shit about me.

I'm getting to the point where everyone is gonna find out again. Find out how awful it is inside my head. I have so much more to lose this time. I have...scratch that...I had Tommy. I have the band, I have my happiness, sobriety, and image. And yet here I am, throwing it down the drain and killing myself in the process.

I've begun evaporating, right before your eyes.

I don't even remember how it got so out of control again. I thought I could manage it this time, thought my mind wouldn't twist it and abuse it. I actually thought I could handle it. Shows you how naive I was.

And I lost everything that I cared about.

I just keep, regurgitating, my own demise

I was so stupid. I was so foolish. I thought he wouldn't leave. I thought I could actually get away with it. I've lost everything to this idiotic drug, tearing up my life and disintegrating the small bits of hope that I previously held.

"Tommy please just let me expl-"

"NO! Listen, I can only do so much. Your priorities are clear Nik. Come find me when you finally decide that I'm more important than a fucking needle in your arm." Even with his statement, Tommys voice wavers. He barely even glances up at me, throwing his clothes into the suitcase.

"Damnit T...please don't do this...."

"NIKKI YOU'VE BEEN LYING TO ME!"

"I know but-"

"BUT WHAT?! NIKKI I WAS HAPPY AND PROUD. I WAS TALKING ABOUT HOW WE SHOULD CELEBRATE TEN YEARS OF YOU BEING CLEAN! AND YOU WERE LYING!"

I sigh, knowing he's right. I have been lying. I lied about being clean. He had given me his congratulations, he had been helping me, and I had been stabbing him in the back.

"T-Tommy please don't leave." I cry out, knowing full well he should.

"Nikki, when you're on drugs you scare me. You make me feel afraid. Afraid that you're going to kill yourself!!! Afraid that you're going to kill someone else."

"T-"

The door slams. He's actually gone.

That was almost a month ago. We still aren't living in the same house. At the moment we're not even in the same state. I'm in New York City for a business meeting about the future of Mötley Crüe, and Tommy is back at home in Los Angeles. Every second without him is torture, and you know what torture does? It drives me deeper into the hole I'm in.