BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

42 - jimmy page ⁵

A special request for Bee_Morrison ! There are some mature themes in this imagine, so TW for drug mentions and, of course, sex.
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It had been nearly four days. Four days since Jimmy had gotten his last fix, and each hour passed excruciatingly. It was like the world was turning slow enough to torture him with the pull of gravity weighing down on his shoulders. All of this could have been avoided if Jimmy just had the foresight to bring a few sachets of the stuff with him from tour. But the damned police had been on them for most of their time in France, and a great deal of their drugs had been hurriedly flushed down the toilet before their departure.

Even now, sitting in the quiet of the bedroom plucking at his guitar, Jimmy felt his fingers twitch and skin crawl. He was aching for it. He couldn't get through the rest of the day without something to ease the tension. Jimmy thought about calling one of the notable dealers in his area, but he cringed at the thought of having to pathetically scramble for it in front of you.

You had made it known early on that you had a distaste for the harder drugs that you knew the band partook in and Jimmy understood in a way. He knew how badly the heroin was fucking up his body. It was only a matter of time before he had to officially detox, but no matter how many times he tried to set it aside, Jimmy went back to the needle just as quickly. Life didn't seem worth living without those purple-blue rushes of pleasure to color his world.

In the early days, Jimmy had you. You were his source of motivation. His drive. His inspiration. Jimmy spent hours composing tunes for your willing ear as he sat shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the sitting room floor. But fame had come so quickly and he found himself tossing you aside in favor of the fast women and instant gratification brought on by a few pills or some powder.

Jimmy could only watch blankly as his relationship with you slowly grew more and more strained. There wasn't anything he could do and, if Jimmy was being honest with himself, he didn't want to lure you back to him when there was only more heartache to come. It was best that you kept your distance from him lest Jimmy bleed his sickly influence onto you.

His fingers slipped on the strings, clammy with sweat, and produced a strangled noise. Jimmy hissed, retracting his hand and eyeing his trembling fingers with disdain. Christ, what was happening to him? Jimmy remembered when he could pull the most complicated sounds out of his guitar, barely glancing down at his hands making their way across the fretboard. Now he could barely produce the simplest chord progression.

Jimmy needed his fix and he needed it now.

Bending backwards, he fumbled for the telephone sitting on the bedside table. There was a hastily scrawled number on a scrap of paper taped to the side. Jimmy was both relieved and guilt-ridden at how easily you believed his excuse about this being "a close friend's number." Though maybe it wasn't totally far off from the truth, Jimmy mused upon dialing the digits. He had to start over several times because of his useless hands moving the dial too far, but eventually Jimmy got it right.

The line rang for several moments as Jimmy anxiously waited, bouncing his knee and picking at his nails absentmindedly. He was all too aware of your presence downstairs, moving about your normal routine and totally unaware of his intentions. You could easily pop in at any moment, a fact that had Jimmy slouching forward and counting each staticky ring.

"Hello?"

Jimmy nearly keeled over in surprise at the sound of his voice. God, at last.