Affliction | ✓

iv | him | 1

new year's eve, 2012

it felt an awful lot like withdrawal.

even though it was painful to admit, he had to agree that she was the best fuck he had had in a while and nobody could compare. the way she would swallow his cock, submit herself to him, moan quietly as he thrusted into her, so tight and wet and warm and perfect. he felt strange, lying down on his bed that felt too empty and craving her. craving the way her slender body would writhe and twist with pleasure, perky tits bouncing, caramel skin glistening with sweat.

he fucked his loneliness away with her, he fucked her because in that moment, he allowed himself the privilege to be a part of something more, the second he cummed was the second the fantasy vanished. but, he couldn't stand her; couldn't stand her chatterbox and loud personality, couldn't stand her clinginess and her whiny drawl when he couldn't appease her. he really despised her.

yet, here he was, fist wrapped loosely around his cock as he scrolled through the pictures she had sent. perfect ass on display. perfect.

me: come over now.
[1:37 am]

she usually responded within seconds but this time, zilch. he groaned slightly, opening whatsapp and he tried texting her but his message didn't go through. in fact, he couldn't see her display picture or her status which was weird considering the bitch used to change it every few hours. he comes to the conclusion that he's been blocked when another message doesn't get delivered and he frowns. goodbye. it echoes in his head, her final words, her confession.

she had looked pale and sickly, tired and gaunt and she had sounded serious this time.

he groaned again, wondered if he should dish out a halfhearted apology so she can forgive him, he knows that she's weak for him, just as he was weak for her. being in love with somebody's body didn't have anything to do with the heart, did it? he felt stupid as he thought of her perfect lips stretched around his cock, velvet tongue teasing the tip.

fuck, he thought as he pumped himself harder; dirty slut, is that the best you can do? she would be so obedient, sucking harder and deeper, allowing him to fuck her mouth with abandon. with one final pump, he comes harder than he has in a long time. fuck, he thinks again.

after cleaning himself, he lies down on his sheets. he stays awake, his eyes refusing to close and his mind refusing to quiet down. he thinks about how fucked in the head he is, why didn't he feel remorseful about basically destroying her life. he inhales deeply, his mind flitting to painful memories that he actively avoided thinking about:

he was 6 and it was his birthday, his mother was humming softly under her breath as she worked in the kitchen. he was playing with his red toy car. she turns to him, a bright smile on her face, "happy birthday, baby boy."

she's holding a plate and it's filled with pancakes and whipped cream; his favourite. she's singing happy birthday softly as she gives him a bright, big smile and he can remember shrieking joyfully.

he swallows harshly, crashing back to reality instead of his deceased mother's face, one of her better days. he wants to forget. he wants to forget so badly.

***

new year's, 2013

he thinks that he might never see her again but he's wrong. it hits him like a tidal wave that he has no form of empathy and he idly wonders what in heaven's name is wrong with him. he's a freak, he realizes casually but it doesn't affect him as strongly as it should.

when the hell had he gotten so numb to things?

you know since when, he thinks.

it's a fairly warm saturday morning and his study bag is slung over his shoulder, oddly light. he had only a single class today, a fairly irritating thing as he had to get up early for a stupid lecture about mathematics. he decides to take the longer route back to his dorms, a decision he'll end up regretting a little later.

he almost doesn't hear the petulant sob that comes from near the bushes but as he passes by, he can hear the unmistakable sound of someone puking. he peeks and sees her. he feels himself freeze; part of him is severely tempted to be on his merry way but he can't. he simply can't. it's her.

she's doubled over, painfully thin as she retches, bits of blood mixed up with morsels of food; a large part of him doesn't want to intervene because this is the most disgusting version of her that he had ever seen. she looks pale and sickly and there's the funniest little pang in his chest that he can't explain.

"hey, you okay?" he finds himself asking as he walks closer.

she glances up, her mouth twisted and she wipes it in haste with the back of her hand, he can't even bring himself to be disgusted when he sees her condition; how sick, how thin and how feeble she had gotten.

"please leave," she pleads and she looks so broken that he wishes he could comply, his chest is hurting really hard now and he honestly couldn't explain it.

"i don't think i should. do you need any help?" he says and steps closer. simultaneously, she steps back. he can't really blame her.

"it'd be helpful if you could leave me the hell alone."

"this isn't a negotiation. when is the last fucking time you ate? you're fucking sick, you stupid bitch," he spits, angrily and she recoils back, "let me help you."

"since when have you cared?" he sees tears rolling down her eyes as she hugs herself with skinny arms.

he growls, frustrated. "you need to see a doctor."

"you need to go to hell."

"already am, sweetheart." he smiles, wryly. "come here." he tries to grab her wrist and she winces away from his touch, as if burned. that hurt him more than it should have, even though he had no particular right.

"don't ever touch me again and i'm not your sweetheart," she looks away and stands up straighter, "you win, man, i'm tired of this."

"what?" he's bewildered.

"i'm pathetic, i'm aware so you don't have to reiterate it. i'm not as smart as you or as beautiful but neither am i an actual fucking devil. i hope somebody hurts you the way you hurt me, the way you've probably hurt a lot more people. i'm done being in your hold, i'm done being your puppet. you win. i'm out of here." she seethes and he's so lost.

she punches him square across his face and he couldn't even bring himself to be hurt.

"you've made me absolutely despise myself, i fucking hate myself because of you, i want to fucking die because of you." she's crying again, quiet sobs as she hammers him with punches and he doesn't stop her. she had never looked so broken or small.

she gives him one weak punch on his chest and turns around and runs away, he can't even bring himself to chase after her, he doesn't deserve one part of her.

he feels stricken and for once, for fucking once, he feels a hurricane of remorse smack into him, leaving him crashing down on his knees.

***

a/n: dedicated to a very dedicated friend