Fragments Of Love Series Part 2: Healing Love [ SandRay - Only Friends ]

Deal? Deal

It was going to be a lot of work, Sand and Ray were both aware of that. The symptoms of Sand's withdrawal became more and more noticeable over the next few days, and Sand spent several hours in the bathroom with his head over the toilet bowl while Ray applied cool compresses to his neck.

Nick had come by from time to time, bringing them food, and was surprised that Sand no longer protested or tried to take the keys away from him.

"Ray, I can't do this anymore," Sand writhed on the couch, his stomach aching because there was nothing left for Sand to throw up. "I feel like I'm dying." Ray was in the kitchen preparing another cool compress for Sand. He hated to see the other in this state and was glad that Sand had never seen him in active withdrawal.

"I'm here." Ray knelt down on the floor next to Sand, and gently began to wipe the other man's hot, sweaty torso with the cool cloth. "I know how you feel right now, believe me. It has to get worse before it gets better." Sand put an arm over his eyes, he had tried to sleep as much as possible, as far as the fever and chills would allow. "I've never seen anyone get such severe withdrawal symptoms from Xanax," Ray mumbled as Sand went through another shaking fit.

"It wasn't just Xanax," Sand muttered as he pressed his hands against his throbbing temples. "I took everything I could get my hands on I..." His voice trailed off as he gagged again, his stomach cramping and his body wracked with pain. Ray looked at Sand in dismay.

"You're such an idiot," he muttered as he dabbed Sand's forehead with the cloth. "Were you going to kill yourself?" The question had slipped out of Ray's mouth, he hadn't meant to say it out loud, but now it stood in the room, hanging between them like an evil spirit. Sand turned to Ray, his eyes glistening with tears, he didn't look well, broken, devastated.

"I'm alive now, aren't I? What was doesn't matter," his voice was quiet, the lips over which the words came torn. All the color had drained from his face. Ray could hardly bear the sight. He said nothing to Sand's statement, not wanting to discuss the subject while Sand was in this state.

Sand and Ray had been "trapped" in the apartment for more than a week now, and Sand's condition was slowly improving. He had started to eat again after Ray had threatened him with a feeding tube, which Sand had commented on with an incomprehensible mumble. Their relationship was still shrouded in dark clouds, but at least they hadn't argued for a few days. "Baby steps." Ray had said to Nick when they had been sitting together at the kitchen counter talking about the situation.

Everyone was worried about Sand, he didn't look well, just a shell of himself. But Ray, as well as Longtae and Black, assured the others that it was perfectly normal during withdrawal. "Or do you think getting rid of all the toxins is like walking on a cloud?" Black had asked the others when they had gathered at Yolo, as Nick told Ray. It was hard for her friends to make sense of it all, but they tried their best to understand the situation.

"Look," Ray held up a bag with some tins. "Summer cooked for us, there's a letter for you in there too." He put the bag down in the kitchen and handed Sand the letter. "I'll get dinner ready, maybe you can join me at the table?" Sand nodded weakly and took the letter.

Hey Sand,

We all miss you.

Hope you're doing well so far.

Nick will keep us up to date. I also hope that you're not

too mad at us and understand that we all want the best for you.

You know how important you are to me and always will be.
Lots of love, Summer

Sand had to smile gently as he read Summer's lines. It was good to know that the others weren't angry with him, or at least weren't showing it at the moment. He sat up heavily, realizing that his body was quite weakened by the withdrawal. The urge to reach for the drug was stronger than in the days before, he smoked more than he had before to distract his thoughts from the pressure of addiction. He walked to the table, which was an effort in itself, his legs were wobbly, and he found it difficult to walk. But it was good to be able to sit at his table again, not just lie on the sofa and eat a meal like a "normal" person.