I Want You All To Myself

Fifteen

Josh's POV 

I stared at the heroin while it burned, the smoke vanishing into the air. I was holding my breath.  

Come on Josh, just inhale!  

I wanted to, but I couldn't. Even though it seemed like the only right thing to do, it felt wrong. But I wasn't about to give up at the last second. I wasn't turning back. I had nothing to lose, right? 

I focused on the task at hand, bringing the tube stuck in my mouth above the burning powder and taking one deep breath. 

And then the strangest thing happened. It was like an electric shock, but less painful and more overwhelming. The feeling was so excruciatingly familiar but at the same time, it felt so new and foreign. Different. And not in the least way pleasant.  

A tingling numbness filled my body then, and the lighter fell from between my trembling fingers. My first reflex was to catch it, but it dropped flame-down into my palm and I pulled away, gasping in pain. I let go of the tinfoil and it fell next to the lighter, crumpling as it started burning while the powder scattered all over the floor.  

"Shit!" was all I could say or think. My palm was insanely painful and I still felt dizzy as fuck. Whatever amount of heroin I had inhaled really hadn't done anything but make things worse.  

Discouraged, I barely managed to turn off the lighter before shoving it in my pocket. I gathered as much of the brown powder as I could into my hand-the one that wasn't burned-and threw it along with everything else I had found in the trash can-probably not the smartest thing to do, but that wasn't really a big concern right then.  

Still shaky, I leaned again the cold wooden side of the bed and tried to think about something else. But what else was there? I looked up in despair, ready to burst into tears, but my eyes were dry and that stupid ceiling light stung them, making my head pound even harder. I made one last effort to get up and turn it off before literally falling down next to my bed again, the hard floor seeming more welcoming than that stupid fluffy mattress.  

I let my eyelids close even though I knew I wouldn't sleep. All I wanted was to float into unconsciousness and never come back. Maybe if I lay there long enough without moving, I wouldn't have to ever get up again... 

Why would I anyway? My life was a pointless series of events that led to nothing. All that throwing up and all that cutting and all those stupid drugs. For what? A little bit of relief once in a while? A few moments away from the pain? It just wasn't worth it.  

And Hayley. Was she worth it? Why had we even met? Why had all of this even happened if all it led to was just more pain? Was there some divine force out there who enjoyed fucking me up?  

Oh, what could I do to ruin Josh's life today? How 'bout I give him a sweet, perfect girl, just long enough for him to fall madly in love with her, and then take her away! Oh, and then I could make them meet again and again without ever being able to be together, just so Josh can feel the pain over and over again... 

Wasn't it funny? 

And you know what the punch line was? There was nothing I could do about it. I was completely helpless. No matter what, I would never be able to let her go like I let go of my other addictions. There was no rehabilitation center for lonely people with broken hearts.  

My only hope was to stick with the drug. Hayley was the only one who could put me back together again. She was the only one who could fix me. 

A dim melody starting forming at the back of my mind as I lost track of reality, random words filling the blank spots until they turned to phrases. Normally I would write them down, but this time I was too exhausted, too lifeless to move. There was only one sentence that came back several times as I unconsciously insisted upon it, and it was addressed, like most of them, to Hayley. 

How will you fix me now? 

Hayley's POV 

"Hey, Hays!" His greeting was enough to make me giggle and forget about my worry for a split-second. "How's it going?" And then I remembered. It's uh... not going so well, Jack. He ignored my silence and reached out for something lying on the couch behind him. "Check this out!" He held it up proudly for me to see.  

It was a dark purple hoodie with the word 'Paramore' carefully written on the back in bright yellow. I had never seen anything like it before. It was... beautiful. 

"Wow! Where'd you get that?" I asked suspiciously.  

"I made it," he answered, a smile of satisfaction stretching across his face. "This better earn me the status of 'biggest fan'!" 

I gawked like an idiot for a few seconds before repeating my "Wow!" and taking a closer look at the perfect letters he had drawn. Man, it was flawless. I felt a painful knot form in my stomach as I realised yet again how much he cared about me, and what I was about to do to him in return. 

"Do you like it?" he asked expectantly. 

"Of course! It's amazing!" I tried to keep the shame out of my eyes-for now-but I had a feeling I failed. Oh well, he probably interpreted it as bewilderment in front of his masterpiece. 

"Good," he said, "'cause it IS for you..." 

I clasped my hands over my mouth, feeling my eyes fill with tears. Why was he being so nice? This was horrible.  

"Are you alright?" Jack took a step towards me and wrapped a hesitant arm around my shoulders, the other one still holding the hoodie. "Come on, it's just a sweater! It's not like I asked you to marry me." He chuckled nervously as I shook my head in denial. 

"That's not it. It's just that... There's something I have to tell you." He pulled away to look at my face, gently gripping my arms right under the shoulders.  

"What is it?" He was serious now, concern having replaced the excitement in his expression. 

Oh, god. Oh, GOD. "I did something terrible..." I gulped and, in an almost inaudible whisper, I added, "I cheated on you."  

I just wanted to slap myself right then and there, over and over again. It sounded so much worse actually coming out of my mouth than it had in my head. For an unbearable second, the room fell silent. And then, Jack slowly let go of my arms and stared at me in shock and incomprehension.  

I felt the sudden need to explain everything. As if it would make things better. "We were in Vancouver," I choked out, "a-and Josh was there, JOSH." I insisted on it like it was an excuse. "And he took me to his house, a-and..." Silence. "And we... made out." I chickened out. I couldn't tell him the whole story. It wouldn't help him to know that I'd done with someone else something I had never been able to do with him. "I'm so sorry." 

I felt pathetic. If I couldn't forgive myself, how could he? 

Jack stood there, petrified. The only thing that had moved since the beginning of my explanation was his face. I only glanced at it for a second, unable to bear the grief in his expression for longer.  

The silence was choking me. I had to do something before it weighed me down and drowned me. "Just say something," I pleaded silently. 

But he didn't. Instead, he tossed the purple hoodie on the floor, right in front of my feet, and walked past me and out of the house without a single word.