JADE (young justice/robin)

33. the end of withdrawal

an: hi everyone. i just wanted to say i'm so sorry the updates are taking longer recently. i've started school again + work so it's hard mustering a lot of free time, but plz don't worry, the updates will come out (not just for this book but for "the last one" and "so i fell in love with a superhero," aka the iris and sage books, too). plz be patient with me and i'll get the updates out asap.

i hope you enjoy this sweet and spicy chapter, lol
much love,
bevs.

Blüdhaven
February 14, 01:23 EST

nightwing.

"Dick!" a scream came from the bathroom.

I shot out of my seat, bursting into the bathroom to find Carter crumbled in the corner of the room. On the sink was an open plastic with brown powder spilling out all over the counter and floor.

Her head was wrapped in her arms, her entire body shaking and broken into a sweat. "C-c-can you t-throw it away?"

I became defensively quickly — maybe too quickly. "Did you take any?"

"Please. I can't... I can't even look at it."

"Where did you get this?"

"Arrow," she cried, begging again, "Please get rid of it."

I'm gonna kill Roy.

I finally listened to her request and emptied the plastic into the toilet. I also did my best to pile up and wipe away any of the residue that lingered on the floor.

As the chaos calmed down, I could feel my skin start to boil. The nervous knot in my stomach began to feel a little heavier. It made my chest ache.

I don't know how much longer I could keep doing this. This cycle of loving Carter from afar, because if I get too close she might slip up again. I don't know how much longer I could panic over whether she was clean or not. I don't know how much longer she could stay clean... Part of me wants to say forever. The other part of me thinks it seems impossible because of how many times she's broken my trust.

It's not that she isn't trying. I know she is. That makes it even worse. She's giving all of her effort to be better for me and I can't seem to bring myself to think it's real.

I felt so nauseous I could throw up. Like there was this heartbeat in my stomach as we waited for the drug test to finish.

Carter was still sat down, unable to move since she finished taking the test. Her head was buried in her hands, that if I looked close enough, were still trembling. I couldn't help but wonder what brought on such a strong reaction. Was it the result of not taking the drugs? Or was it the opposite and she felt ashamed?

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. Neither of us spoke or moved. If I tried, I think I might cry, or worse get angry with her. The only thing I could do for now was just grip the corner of the sink until the test could finish.

Ten slow minutes finally passed. I didn't want to look, but I had to.

"It's... negative."

"I know."

I was still trying to process that she hadn't taken any of it. My eyes stared widely at the negative result, relief flooding every muscle in my body. "Then... what's wrong?"

"I couldn't even throw it away." Carter removed her face from her hands, revealing heavy tears falling from her burning eyes. "Couldn't even look at it."

"But you didn't take it."

"But I want it just as a bad as I did before."

I knelt down in front of her, wrapping my hands around hers. "You mean cravings?"

"It's not just the cravings," her eyes shut in disgust. "I don't see the point anymore."

"Of what?"

"Of staying clean."

This confession made my heart drop.

"I don't know if I want to skate or fight," she admitted slowly. "I know I quit so you'd want me, but you don't anymore... and I don't even blame you because look how pathetic I am."

That familiar exhaustion I'd seen in her eyes all throughout her withdrawal seemed to come back. It tainted her whole face in sadness, making me want to crumble to the floor too.

I could only imagine how tired she must feel. If standing by and watching her cycle was hard, what more to actually live through it? To wake up everyday and not be able to find happiness in your life, because the rush won't ever be the same.

"I don't think you're pathetic," I said firmly, my hand reach up to push stray hairs away from her face. An old habit that I'd never get tired of. "You're right. You couldn't throw them away, so you let me do it. I know how hard that is, it's not pathetic."

Her steel eyes watched me through a heavy mist. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I ruined your life," she sniffled, as tears slowly began trailing down her cheeks. Her hands reached up to hold the sides of my face.

The moment I felt her skin against mine, I broke down with her. My tears followed hers, the sound of our sniffles echoing through the room.

"You're so tired, and you're not eating. Dick, you're taking Xanax," her voice trembled. "It's all because you're stuck with me."

My forehead fell against hers, our faces both painted in our own tears and agony. How could I make her understand that I don't think she ruined my life? Sure, she made it harder, but in so many ways, she made it better. If I could choose, loving her has been the highlight of my life.

"But I want to be stuck with you. I never said I didn't want you."

"You don't need to—"

My lips caught hers in a blind moment of passion, but quickly she pulled away.

Her eyes scanned me in horror. "What're you doing?"

I don't entirely know. But it feels right.

"You're better now."

Her hesitation washed away slowly. The scared look in her eyes began to disappear. She rushed forward to press her lips against mine again, kissing me hungrily, desperately.

My hands run down her back, along the side of her hips before I was holding her legs, carrying her out of the bathroom and into our bedroom.

My body landed on top of hers, our lips still interlocked. I could already feel the heat form between our bodies, the ravaging way we treated each other when we were kids. It took over me again, making my hands wander and try to pull her clothes off as I kissed her neck.

Her hand grabbed mine as it played with the hem of her pants. "I thought you'd just kiss me," she panted, as my other hand continued to mercilessly roam her body.

"Trust me," I whispered, pressing soft kisses against her ear. "I want to do a lot more than kiss you."

A large moan escaped her throat as my fingers dipped into her. "Dick..." she breathed. "We shouldn't—"

Her verbal opposition wasn't enough to stop the way my hand moved rhythmically in and out of her.

In a faint whisper, I told her, reminded her, "I'm still in love with you."

I didn't understand what she meant when she'd asked. The difference between having enough love to take care of her, and being so in love that she was all I wanted.

She pulled me to start kissing her again, to take her clothes off, to be with her after withholding affection for years. It was the end of withdrawal for us both.