Love is Everything to Me (Hyunlix Oneshots)

I'm A Wreck Since You've Been Gone

SONG REC FOR THIS FIC: Wrecked by Imagine Dragons, that's what this fic was based off of

TWs: Major Character Death, angst, suicide, drugs, hurt no comfort
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Somehow it surprised me today when I woke to the empty house. It shouldn't have shocked me when I felt the other side of the bed and found it cold. It's been like this for long enough. The new routine's been practiced so that my first instinct shouldn't have been to reach for you when I woke up sweating. My first word shouldn't have been the weak shout of your name when I woke up from dreaming. When I woke up from the nightmare I've now taken to calling remembering.

The blurriness in my eyes cleared as I blinked them open, sitting up with a groan as my phone slipped off my chest and onto the hardwood floor beneath the couch. My high was fading but I still grasped to the edges of it, trying to ride it to the last edges of feeling. Shit's expensive, mind you, can't be wasting any. The light attacked my retinas, and I groaned at them, as if it would make them visually shut up.

It didn't, so I was forced to wait it out until I could open my eyes enough to see anything at all.

That was the first moment that I looked for you.

I'd like the memory to be different. I'd like to be able to say that you were my first thought, my last thought, my every thought all the time, but deceiving myself only makes it that much worse when the truth inevitably crashes back down onto my shoulders to crush me. That's what it feels like, this guilt, this grief that I carry like a weight that's been fused to my soul. A weight that spawns from the knowledge that if I had thought of you first, none of this would've happened.

If I had just opened my eyes, maybe it wouldn't have happened this way. Maybe I'd still have you, maybe I'd still be worthy of having you, instead of sitting here missing you while knowing all the same that I shouldn't. That I don't deserve it. But there are a million maybes that could've resulted in a different outcome of that night, and they still all boil down to one simple truth: I'm the reason that I'm missing you.

I don't get to mourn. That's how it works, even if I wish with everything in me that it's not.

We lived wildly, you and me. I knew you knew that, even if you always insisted that we were quiet and boring. But a party every weekend spoke for itself. A new stash every two and a dwindling stash of cash proved it. We were anything but boring, anything but peaceful.

Anything but safe, so it seems.

We weren't satisfied with the routine of it, you and I both, and so that's why I knew you'd say yes when I held up the new bag of stuff the dealer gave me. Your eyes lit up and I knew that I'd chosen right for a birthday treat (It was between this and that one bar in town that literally everyone went to, so it wasn't really a hard decision anyway). That feeling was thrilling, almost as much as the lines of the stuff were not long after.

But those lines were dangerous, that thrill toxic. The light in your eyes was pure. Why couldn't I have been satisfied with that? Now I'd give up any high in the world to see it again.

San promised me it was safe. He promised me it was good. I held it out to you that night, not considering that it could be anything else. We'd done enough to know our limits, hadn't we?

You did it first, the longest line out of all of them, and you smiled as you finished. I went second. I should have gone first.

If I knew the way it was going to end up? I would've chosen to never meet you at all. I never would've accepted that first date. Never would've followed you all the way back to your hometown under the guise of not having anywhere to go for Christmas break. I never would've confided in you, listened to you, moaned for you, never would've moved in with you, never would've fallen deeper with you every step of the way.