I'll Break You, My Habit

She sat curled up on the counter in the bathroom while he was laying on the floor by the toilet. It was at least the third time this week (that she knew of) that he’d been drunk or high (or both) and he’d found his way to the bathroom before passing out. Her head was in her hands as she watched the slightly younger boy sleep and wondered why anyone would do that to themselves.

She winced slightly, trying not to let it get under her skin that he had once said the same thing about her cutting. She absentmindedly traced the scars on her wrists as he grunted, half asleep, and started to sit up. “Hey,” she said softly, tentatively. “Feel any better?”

He looked around the room, his eyes finally landing on her. “Not really,” he mumbled, holding his head. The nauseous feeling from before had come back and hit him ten times harder, but he wasn’t willing to admit that to her when she’d been around for so much.

“Maybe…” she trailed off, deciding she didn’t want to cause an argument, especially one he wouldn’t remember. His eyes stayed on her, though, looking over every inch of her slightly tanned skin and how her tank top hung off her because of the weight she’d been losing from stress. He frowned slightly, seeing a few bruises that he had no memory of causing during any of the nights they’d spent together recently (not that he would remember because he’d been high most of those times.)

“Maybe what?” he asked. He had already known that she ran around with other guys while he was off with his friends getting high (or drunk. It just depended on the day.)

She picked at her nails nervously and shook her head. “It’s nothing… It was stupid.” His blue eyes studied her, his dark hair falling in his eyes. She got off the counter and sat beside him, kissing his cheek. “I’m gonna order some food… Anything you want?”

He shrugged. “Anything is fine.” He smiled. They would pretend nothing was wrong, that he wasn’t addicted and she didn’t cheat, only for everything to repeat the next day.