My Love, My Drug, My Release

Chapter 40: The Plunge

So, I had this chapter mostly written almost a week ago, but then I came down with an awful fever and I've been sick for the past few days. It got so bad that I had to go to the doctor (and I avoid the doctor's at all costs, I hate it!), and now I have to see a specialist for a follow-up. I just finished editing this, and I'm still a little out of it so I hope it doesn't suck.

Also, more importantly, trigger warnings!!!! I know I sometimes say this a little lightly, but I do genuinely mean it, there is drug use, and if that's something that bothers you and you're in bad place right now, maybe come back when you're feeling better. Honestly, I had to take breaks when first writing it because I was having cravings. 

Double-also, ** this will be around the main smut.

"Why don't you just boil a pot of water?" Keith asked.

"This way is better," Anita said while she held her lighter under the teaspoon.

"It's the exact same thing, you just have to sterilize it."

She shrugged. "I like it like this, it's how I've always done it, if you don't like it, you can do it yourself." 

He scoffed, getting up from the couch. "What's up your ass?" He stalked over to the kitchen, pulling a saucepan on the stove. What happened between them? They were perfectly content, at least until Mick arrived. Something about the set of his shoulders as he heated up the lemon water gave me pause, made me think this wasn't just a stupid fight. And besides, I felt uncomfortable here with just the Micks, Anita mixing powdered heroin in the spoon, stirring it with a needle, as though the room had chilled by several degrees.

I got up, going to Keith- whispers starting as soon as I left- and came to stand beside him, touching his shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

"Let me drive you home?" he said immediately.

"What?"

"Don't stay here, not right now." He pushed his hair out of his face, looking anxious for the first time since I'd known him, and I didn't like it. He's a Rolling Stone; he's not supposed to worry about anything. "Not with these people."

"'These people'? You mean you're bandmates and girlfriend?"

He reached out, touching my cheek, running his thumb across my lower lip. "Don't start with this shit. Let me take you home; we can hang out tomorrow, do whatever you want."

I pulled away, stepping back. I hated when people treated me like a child, talked down to me. He shot up all the time, I'd see the track marks on his arms, and then he had the audacity to preach to me like a goddamn after school special? I'd never been good at expressing myself, especially when something made me angry or sad, so I just ignored his words, returning to my spot on the couch, but Mick Jagger had moved over to Anita, helping her inject her inner arm, wholly uninterested in me.

"Fuck," she hissed, sinking back into the sofa, her eyes fluttering closed, mouth falling open.

"Keith, where the hell is that water?" Mick shouted.

"I thought Anita wanted to use a spoon."

He rolled his eyes. "We already did her, just bring in the bloody water!" When he didn't receive a reply, he muttered something unintelligible and came to sit beside me again. "He's being a prick, right?" I nodded. "Don't worry; he's just jealous."

"Jealous of what?"

"Of me, obviously." He sounded a tad insulted I even had to ask. "And because every girl gets bored of him and moves on to me."