Smoke Me.

Chapter 22: An Old Flame With a New Wick

AN: Hi, just letting you know that (Anything between brackets is sounds from the Tv, at least in this chapter.)I liked writing this chapter, hope you enjoy reading it:

Finally, the smoke cleared and the mirrors broke. What Jungkook meant when he told me that the way he managed to pass his exams was to let despair and adrenaline become his fuel involved several steps he either left out on purpose.

Or otherwise, he was sorely mistaken that it was the withdrawals alone that kept him awake and buzzing whilst caffeine-free for days.

And I've been too blind, enchanted by my own rose-colored glasses.

This man was an addict just like my mom was, and if it's anything she made strikingly obvious during my childhood was that there's nothing harder in this world than getting clean and staying clean.

Sure, you might not engage in your usual favorite poison.

But you might replace it either way.

Pills, cleaning, eating, exercising, and pretty much anything that can be done without thinking do the same thing that a hard drug can.

The heaven that is not facing your reality, emotions, or yourself. After all, at the bottom of them all, it's all escapism.

And now he was running wild.

The way he'd complain about being dirty after working a part-time job at the store and avoiding to come anywhere near more than once had me stealing an alcohol-stained kiss. I pretended not to notice.

Never mentioned the sleeping pills and neither did he. Even though a mild case of insomnia did show its ugly head after I threw them away. Soon, I spotted melatonin pills in under a book by mistake and put it back the very next second.

The way he'd watch Tv for hours and not even laugh once, I ignored it.

The way he'd tremble when I'd touch him. The conversations got shorter and shorter.

It was all obvious and yet subtle enough. Like lighting all across the dark sky, but not one whisper from the thunder.

However, I could tell that he was getting tired of running on faulty fuel.

By the time he went jogging at six AM on a Monday, I was bracing myself.

The substitutes were no longer working, so he'd either break open or cave.

The only thing I made sure of was that nor Fred, nor any of his people wouldn't as much as murmur anything to do with a plant.

But since he had now changed his sleeping position at least fifteen times, I was doubting that he was going to accept the situation, rather than fight it with all he had left.

I was a silent supporter. That's the decision I alone succumbed to.

And I had done my best to keep him studying for as long as possible. Didn't judge the moments he'd forget the words he learned and repeated out loud minutes ago.

No. I would blame the drug and not Jungkook. Since I knew the real Jungkook, the one that was good at everything he did on his first try. That...part of him that was either buried deep inside his subconscious or dead, along with a lot of neuropathways.

Meanwhile. this role I forced myself into started to feel unbearably lonely.

Hence, when I reached out for him, under the sheets, all I received was a stiff body and his heartbeat, louder than before.