Who Will Fix Me Now? (Kellic)

Chapter 9

*12 days ago*

You know that feeling when you're trying to learn something new? You go over it again and again and still don't succeed at figuring it out? Or when your mom asks you to do something and you forget about it and she's disappointed in you afterwards? Or maybe when you're trying to stop with something but always end up doing it anyway?

You feel useless. You feel sad, maybe even angry.

And that's exactly how I felt about Vic.

It wasn't all bad, there were days when he was alright, he seemed happy even and I had a feeling I was actually doing something right...and I loved that feeling, the feeling of being wanted. But then other days were like...

"No, fuck you, I'm leaving!" Vic would yell at me, heading for the front door. He would get pissed at me and I wouldn't even know why, his mood swings were so intense I had no idea what would come next.

"You can't get angry with me for trying to help you, Vic. Come back here, please, we can watch a movie or get something to eat or just rest, you decide what you want to do but please, just stay here." I would try to reason with him and he'd usually give in quite fast. And the sigh he'd let out would always give me the sign that I had won.

"Resting for a while sounds good." He would mutter from the door. Then he would turn around and walk over to me and suddenly, everything would be alright again. He'd bury his face in the crook of my neck, wrapping his arms around my frame. "I'm sorry." He would say. My chin would rest on his shoulder as I'd run my hand up and down his back.

"It's alright." I would whisper. "Let's just go lay down for a while, okay?" I'd ask him softly.

"Yeah." He'd sigh, pulling away from me and letting me lead him over to the couch. It was actually getting pretty uncomfortable sleeping on the couch but as long as Vic was okay with it, so was I.

There were also times when it was worse than him yelling at me, even though I wasn't fond of getting yelled at, seeing Vic hurt was almost unbearable, and that was when he was having hallucinations, nightmares or was paranoid.

He would wake up in the middle of the night (if he went to sleep at all), screaming or scratching at his skin.

"Get it off of me." He would cry, scratching his arm so hard it would draw blood. At times like those, I would calm him down and bandage his arm up, place a gentle kiss onto the place which would always bring a small smile to his lips and he would say he loved me.

"I love you too." I would reply before spending the rest of the night wide awake, either talking or playing music and singing, or just enjoying each other's presence.

"You don't have to do this, you know, you don't have to help me." He would sometimes say but the thing was, I did indeed have to. I felt like it was my duty to take care of him and help him get through that shit.

"Vic, I'm doing it because I want to and because you're my best friend, best friends take care and worry about their best friends." I would smile at him and he would return the smile before it turned into a frown and I just knew he was thinking about relapsing again. I wanted to just make him feel better whether it meant to leave him alone or be there for him 24/7, I needed to make sure he would never have to feel like he needed drugs.

Ever since we started this recovery thing I'd been going out more, mainly just to get food and stuff, and sometimes Vic would join me if he wasn't sleeping or too tired to go out with me.

He didn't sleep much though, as I said, and it was making me worried, he would also tell me about the things he was seeing. They were delusions and I suggested seeing a doctor so he could maybe get some medication but he had declined my offers because apparently, 'doctors don't know shit' and 'medication is completely useless.' Vic's words, not mine. I didn't exactly share his opinion but did nothing but nod and let it be.