Acting Out [Student/Teacher, GxG]

What We've Broken

"That's obviously not what I'm asking." She retorted, exasperated.

I shook my head, my jaw setting in a hard line. "Stop looking at me."

"Why?" She asked, caught off guard.

"Because this is my body, Claire! And I don't care if you think it's disgusting, but it's the only one I have, so forgive me if I don't want to know." I looked away, "You're not exactly being subtle, looking at me like I'm some sort of fucking wounded animal."

She grabbed the black bathrobe from where it hung on the door, kneeling next to me and wrapping the silk garment around my shoulders to cover me. Picking up the eyeliner from where it lay on the floor next to me, she took my chin in her hand, tilting my head up. Carefully, she drew over the thin black lines before pulling me into her, one arm resting on my back, keeping me close as she ran the other through my hair. "You're beautiful, Rowan," She murmured, bringing her lips to my forehead, "So beautiful. Nothing about you could ever be disgusting to me, because all of these things — they make you who you are, and you are amazing. I'm angry at myself, and I'm terrified because for so long now I've wanted to protect you, and I know it's stupid and I'm not trying to control you but I'm so afraid of losing you, and I don't know how to —" She choked up, "I don't know how to keep you safe. I don't know what to do."

I didn't know what to say. I knew Claire cared about me, but I had no idea she felt that way. 

"I would do anything for you, Rowan. Anything. Whatever you want, whatever you need, it's yours." She slipped a cold hand underneath my robe, running her fingers over the scratches on my side and sending shivers down my spine, "Please just don't hurt yourself anymore."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice shaky and uncertain. "I'm just sick. It's supposed to stop soon, isn't it? The withdrawals?"

"When was the last time you used?"

"The night before the trial — well, that morning I guess." I tried to think back, "Nine days ago."

She seemed to consider it, "How much were you doing?"

"About a gram every day for two weeks. I'd only done it once or twice before I came here." I admitted, hating the way it sounded when I said it out loud.

She sucked in a deep breath, "That's enough to kill a grown man, how were you even doing that without a tolerance?"

"I've been on Dexedrine for about five years. After I graduated, it stopped working as well so I doubled my dose. I already had an amphetamine tolerance, and knowing my limits has never been something I was particularly good at." I closed my eyes in a desperate attempt to fend off my growing headache, "I stopped taking it three days ago."

"Rowan!" She practically shrieked, "The first couple weeks of cocaine withdrawal are hell. You're pretty much through the worst of it, but you can't just go cold turkey off of Dexedrine after five years. You need to taper off. That's why you're still feeling like this."

"Since when did you go to medical school?"

"I'm five years clean, but I was an addict for seven. When I first tried to quit, I relapsed ten times in the first six months and the withdrawals were so bad I needed medical detox every single time. If you'd actually talked to me instead of trying to do everything on your own as always, I would've told you that. If you want to come off of the Dexedrine, I can get you in with a psychiatrist and they'll monitor you while gradually lowering your dose so this doesn't happen."

"Even if I wanted that, I don't have insurance anymore."

She rolled her eyes, "Does it look like money is an issue for me?"