After hours - Youtube OneShots

addiction // fitz

GoodGuyFitz x reader?

One sided, focus on Fitz
Angst ?

Pronouns : they/them

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“Addiction : n.m. repeated involvement with a substance or activity, despite the substantial harm it now causes, because that involvement was (and may continue to be) pleasurable and/or valuable”

a drug
Was it what they were to him?
Fitz was sitting on his bathroom floor, lights off, still a little shaky from the panic attack he just had. He knew Swagger and the others were worried about him, he shouldn't have left the call so abruptly. But how was it supposed to explain to them what was happening to him when he couldn't figure it out himself. How could he explain that every time he heard their voice he felt his heart sink, but mostly he felt the unberable need to feel their touch on his skin. It wasn't even sexually related, as he first thought. He needed to feel their hugs, their kisses, to run his hand through their hair. He needed to know that they were his.
But they didn't felt the same way as him anymore. He knew it.
Is that what love is?
Fitz couldn't live much longer like this. Not even weed or alcohol could help him anymore. He felt like he had lost control, lost purpose.
The sinking feeling in his chest everytime they came to his mind was killing him.
The need to be with them all the time, to hear their sweet voice, their soft skin, and their laugh, oh god their laugh.
Fitz smiled faintly picturing them laughing and smiling at him in his mind. His smile quickly died down as he remembered that things will never be like that again.
They had moved on. So why was Fitz unable to ?
His eyes started feeling up with tears again.
"Fuck" he mumbled, trying to stop himself from bursting into tears.
He knew it from the start, from the way their relationship started, that this wasn't going to end well for them both. One of them was gonna have to suffer, and fate chose Fitz.
Their relationship wasn't toxic but it never was healthy either.
They both were aware on it, but they kept going, until they couldn't take it anymore.
They consumed their love slowly, watching themeselves burn inside in the process. Much like a cigarette, and once it's finished, you throw it away and pick up a new one. That's what [y/n] did.
But Fitz was blocked on the first cigarette, the one and only. He couldn't stop thinking about it. No one would make him feel better, he needed them.
Like a drug.
Fitz was in tears on his bathroom floor, his body shaken by shudders, his face hidden in his hands, desperatly trying to calm himself down.
The only drug he ever got addicted to was them. And this realisation hurted him more then the rest.