Hell Above (Kellic BoyxBoy)

Chapter Seventeen

Vic POV

It’s been about  two months since I first starting getting high.

And I can’t stop.

I found out that the weed I got was laced. With fucking heroin. I hated this, but it seemed to be the only way.

I think Kellin and Mike are starting to notice that I’m acting different. My parents are always out, so they don’t particularly notice that I’m acting any different. I don’t know. I don’t think I really care anymore.

I sighed as I sat down on a bench at the park. It was one in the morning, and I had decided that I would go for a smoke. I smirked as I looked around and pulled it out of my pocket, lighting it up. I know I could get caught by the police, but maybe it was for the better if I did.

I wouldn’t be a bother to anyone anymore if I was in jail.

I sighed, taking another puff. I wasn’t particularly hurt or in pain over the suicide anymore-although it still hurt me, like it probably always would-but I had become dependent on this.

Every time Kellin and I were made fun of-I would smoke. Every time someone made a comment about something I’m insecure about-I would smoke. Every time I was feeling down or depressed-I would smoke.

I’m addicted.

I knew this, but I didn’t really want to stop. Or maybe I did, I don’t know. All I do know is that I hate how dependent I have gotten.

I was about to inhale one more time when I heard it, that familiar voice that expressed pain as it acknowledged what I was doing.

"Vic, what are you doing?"

~~~Kellin POV~~~

I narrowed my eyes as Vic made up some weak excuse to go on a walk and shuffled out of the house.

He had been acting really weird for months now, and he wouldn’t tell me what was up. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew that something was.

I decided quickly that I would follow him, throwing on some shoes and a jacket. I slipped outside, spotting him down the street. I stayed quite a distance away, not wanting to get caught.

About ten minutes later, he finally stopped. He sat down at a bench at the park, just sitting there. I was starting to think that maybe he had just wanted to go on a walk when a small little smirk grew on his face, his hands in his pockets. I didn’t realize what he was doing until he pulled out a lighter.

He was smoking.

No. No, no, no. He wasn’t going to do this, right? He was too smart to do this. He knew better than this.

But no, he really didn’t. I stood there frozen as he inhaled puff after puff of whatever he was smoking, getting as high as a fucking kite. I wasn’t able to shake myself out of my trance until he was almost finished.

"Vic, what are you doing?"

I realized I sounded hurt and got mad at myself in my mind. Of course I was hurt, but I couldn’t show it. Not now, while he was high, anyways.

He looked up slowly, his face crumpling when he saw it was me. “K-Kells, I-" he tried to say, but I cut him off.

"Shut up, Vic," I hissed. “Get your ass up. We’re going home." He stood up slowly, stumbling as he made his way over to me. I knew I wasn’t evil enough to make him stumble all the way home without any help, so I wrapped my arm around his waist.

We got home after fifteen minutes of Vic falling multiple times and saying something about the colors and how he wanted to catch them.

I’m going to kick this boy’s ass when he’s sober.

We got home and I was so thankful that we were home alone. He collapsed on our bed, staring up at me.

"Well?" he asked softly. Wow, even when he’s as high as the Empire State Building he knows he’s going to get shit from me.

"What the FUCK are you thinking, Vic?" I shouted, throwing my hands up. “Smoking behind my back?!? How long as this been fucking going on?!?"

He looked down, tears gathering in his eyes. I shot down the pity I felt, wanting nothing than to be mad at him right now.

"I dunno, two months."

I think I had a heart attack.

"Two months? TWO months?? TWO MONTHS?!?!" I shrieked. He flinched, the tears spilling over.

"I’m sorry, Kellin!" he cried, sobbing hard as he wrapped his arms around himself. “I can’t stop! I’m sorry!"

I sighed, running my hands through my hair and over my face. “Why, Vic?" I whispered.

"I was depressed!" he yelled. “I didn’t know how to handle it! How was I going to start cutting when I was telling you to stop?I tried to be strong for you and me, I really did, but I couldn’t! I’m just a fuck-up, alright!"

He brought his knees up to his chest, crying hard. I tensed when he brought up my cutting. I had a relapse about a month ago, but haven’t done it since.

"Why can’t you stop?" I asked softly. I understood what he meant, I really did. It didn’t mean that I wasn’t disappointed in him, though.

"The shit I buy is laced, and I’m addicted," is all he answered. I tensed even more.

"What do you buy?" “Weed." “You can’t get addicted to weed unless you’re a chronic user. And generally, a chronic user uses it longer than two months," I said, getting confused. He looked up at me with a hopeless, half smirk.

"Did you not hear me? It’s laced."

"What is it laced with?" I whispered, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"Heroin. And I’m never going to get off of it, Kells. I depend on it too fucking much. I’m never going to be able to quit."