Band Oneshots!

Simon Neil: Prescription

Y/Ns POV:

It was all easy. Walking to the store. Picking up the pills. Walking home. Hell, even opening that bottle felt like second nature to me. But the thought of taking them made me feel sick to my stomach. After popping ten or so of whatever I bought, the feeling went away. In fact, any feeling went away but the one of floating and happiness.
Getting high was my escape. I couldn't get into the world of hard core illegal drugs, so I got prescription pills over the pharmacy counter. It was easier that way. There were no angry drug lords at my door with bats, wanting their money, no real evidence of anything illegal. It was just easy.
I slept most of the time that I didn't pop the pills. It was another way of numbing the pain. The abuse I suffered from my ex had taken its toll on me and I needed to escape.
There was one other part of my life where sleeping nor pills made an appearance. My time with Simon.
Simon was my best friend and my rock. But every time I saw him, I felt butterflies flutter in my stomach, his voice sent shivers down my spine every time he spoke and his touch felt safe and secure. It was like getting high without any of the ramifications. And no, it's not love.
Love isn't hearing that someone's voice; it's the rattle of those pills in the bottle.
Love isn't the sweet embrace of someone who cares for you, it's the warm touch of drugs pulling you along, then letting go and leaving you drifting from reality. And love certainly isn't the feeling you get when you kiss them. It's that peaceful feeling when you accidentally overdose, but realise it's what you wanted.
In fact, that's what this is about.
The story of the time I nearly died, Simon found out about both my relapse and my feelings and I found out about his.
I didn't mean to take more than usual. It wasn't the plan, obviously. The plan was put down the fucking bottle because someone was at the door. But that's not what I did, of course.
But I realised, whoever is at that door means nothing in the long run. At the end of the day, when the book closes at the end of our story, we all turn to dust. I'm not going to remember one meaningless knock on the door followed by a conversation of obviously fake concern. I'll be dead. So I basically thought 'fuck it'. How bad could dying be anyway? The movies always presented an OD as a beautiful, peaceful way out. The pretty way, if you'd like.
So when the man that I was completely in love with and denial over came to knock on my door, I downed the bottle of what may have been Xanax.
Peaceful, pretty way out my ass.
It was vomiting, convulsing, screaming and almost wishing I hadn't.
Almost.
As I felt my life start to leave, however, it became pretty. The puke stopped, my body stilled and I found myself in the warm arms of someone else. If I'd known that Simon was at the door, it would've been locked first. If I wanted saving, it wouldn't be by him. Mostly because I'd have to live through another lecture about how it's a dirty addiction.
But Simon let himself into my house, ran up my stairs and picked up my quiet but still conscious body.
"Y/N, stay awake," he sighed, like it was common protocol to cart me to the hospital, ready to have my stomach pumped.
I wanted to yell 'no!' but I couldn't seem to find the energy to. I shook my head instead. I heard, and felt, him growl at me. Even in my state, that was crazy sexy.
"Stay awake and I won't yell at you for this dumb crap?" He pleaded. This time, I shrugged. I suppose he took that as an 'okay'. Before I knew what was going on, I was in the back of his car, wrapped up in a blanket, shivering. I knew the route to the hospital like the back of my hand. Left, right, straight for a while, left. Stop! Okay go, straight on and sharp right into the car park! Like the back of my hand...
I hated being so dependant on someone. Why didn't he just let me die? Not only did he have to carry me around, but he had to see me in this state too. I didn't like it one bit.
"I need help! This girl overdosed, please help!" Simon cried. I almost laughed. It wasn't that big a deal! Everyone dies, but being in control of how and when is rare. And it's all I wanted.
The nice lady at the front desk called for a gurney for me and I was carted off to Doctor Collins. It didn't take long to get to his room.
"Hey, Misha!" I laughed.
"Y/N, are you taking those pills again?" He tried, very serious. I just giggled.
"Did everyone but me get the memo that I stopped?" I joked. It was hard to be serious when I was dying high.
"You promised both me and Simon! How does it feel to break that?"
He sighed. I shook my head.
"Won't matter soon, Doc!"
"I'm gonna put you under, now. Lie still. You know how this works so you know it'll hurt when you wake up," he told me, also seeming bored of the protocol that only I wasn't aware of.
I woke up several hours later, dazed and confused, but in the arms of a heavily relieved Simon.
"You're alive!"
"I've done it for 23 years, can I have a break now?"
These jokes were really a coping mechanism. I really did feel low and suicidal but joking about it seemed to take the seriousness away.
"No. Please don't do this. Not now. The jokes I mean. I know it's how you feel, but you need to talk to me!" He groaned. I felt a lecture coming on so hurried to prevent it.
"Si, if I couldn't feel, we wouldn't be in this situation. I'd be fine if I didn't wake up FEELING like shit every morning. If the pills didn't make me FEEL happy, I wouldn't take them. If I didn't FEEL depressed by my life, I wouldn't have taken all of those pills. Most importantly, if you didn't make me FEEL high, I wouldn't take them when you aren't around just to try and feel the same!"
"I make you feel high?" He laughed.
"Some saps might call it love, but love isn't-"
"No, I've heard you say this shit before and I'm not buying it. I get chills when I hear you speak, I feel like you're safe when I hold you, and I'm sure kissing you would feel like flying," he sighed. I wanted to say something about all of this, but jokes seemed easier than sincere feelings.
"How would you know? You've never flown," I sighed, the hospital drugs making my jokes funny, but only to me.
"I've never kissed you either," he muttered.
"True. Do you want to?" I spat the words out like they were too hot: I did it without thinking and it made someone else look very shocked.
"Yes..."
He looked at me like I was precious, but I knew he was just desperate to keep me happy. I played along too, kissing him deeply, slowly and passionately. He was right, this was like flying. But I was gonna crash as soon as he pulled away.
"That was love, dumbass. Not fucking pills!" He yelled. I shook my head.
"Stay with me forever and I won't need pills to get high."
He shot me a look but I couldn't work out why.
"No, love isn't getting high. It's real happiness," he explained. It was like he thought I'd never been in love before.
"Simon, I know what love used to mean to me okay? You don't have to tell me."
I rolled my eyes at him.
"I want to make love mean what it used to!"
"Love used to mean you..." I stuttered. I still wasn't sure about expressing my feelings honestly and seriously, but I'd done it so it was too late.
"Then let's make love mean me again..." he smiled, holding my hand and rubbing my thumb with his. "Just quit the pills, please!" He begged.
I nodded, wanting nothing more than my fix of Simon Neil. Xanax was getting boring anyway.

Hey guys! Long time no see! How's everyone doing? Good? Great! Not so good? Aw, it'll get better! Just wanted to say thanks so much for the support and 1.25K READS HOLY MOLY!! Stay happy my unicorns and I'll see you in the next chapter! ❤️💜