These Paper Pages

did you inherit the sickness? [jorei]

tw: unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied alcoholism.

did you blame me or did you blame yourself?

a hand slams into the mirror, shattering it into pieces. his reflection stares at back at him, broken. empty eyes, cold hands, a sickness that bears heavy on his chest. it's suffocating, the thorny vines constrict and his lungs burn as he struggles to breathe, to keep his head above the water when the waves hit and threaten to pull him under.

the mirror shatters again, another fist colliding against its broken surface. what was once in pristine condition, the broken pieces and droplets of blood pepper the sink, leaving it a mess as he exits. the blood continues to drip from the cuts on his bruised knuckles to the floor, a trail of blood like roses blooming from rosebush. he doesn't care.

you can't erase me, you can't deny me: i'll always be a part of you.

he picks up the bottle from the nightstand, not bothering to look at what he was drinking. he needed something in his system and he doesn't care what, it could be bleach or whatever, it doesn't didn't matter. the faster they could kill him the better, might as well get it over and done with than bottling everything inside until it eats him up till he breaks, till it festers in the back of his mind and rot. the whiskey burns his throat as he drinks it down straight, the bottle is empty when he puts it back down. the world spins.

he has enough sense to find his phone and call the number he has been dreading to call all these years, he calls anyways.

"john?" there's surprise and wariness in his tone as he speaks over the phone, john laughs, he wanted to throw up.

"come over. i need you to come over." he says, slurring and perhaps barely coherent. he feels nauseous.

"you're drunk."

"congratulations, you're fucking observant. are you going to come over or not?" he ignores the voice in the back of his head telling him this is all wrong. rei moved on, they were done and yet—

"where are you?"

"where we first met. remember that motel opposite the bar? room 135."

the call ends abruptly, he ignores the regret gnawing at his stomach. he'll deal with it when he's sober enough to feel the guilt and regret already piling up on him. they're making a mountain high enough to put skyscrapers to shame.

pathetic. you really are pathetic.

he stews on his self-loathing until rei comes knocking on his door not even half an hour later. he must have been nearby. stumbling towards his door, he opens it with vigor, throwing himself in rei's arm without a moment of hesitation. the door slams shut behind them as john pulls him in, pulls him into him.

"you'll regret this like you always do." rei whispers in between kisses, pushing him against the bed.

"doesn't matter, what's another one to add to the growing pile of shit?" he wraps his arms around his neck, drinking in the taste of him. "lecture me as long as you want tomorrow but right now i need you."

john doesn't say anything more as they fall into each other, the circle unbroken.

____________________

my current list of to be written:
blyke x reader [angst/comfort]
arlo x reader [fluff]
reilo [fluff]
blysen [fluff]
the sequel to "just friends" isen x reader [angst]
jeraphina [currently writing a pretty dark one, except john doesn't murder sera lmao]
rei x reader [dark?? probably mostly angst with an open ending, we'll see.]