#tw: rehab

[blue-eyed-banshee]

So... I got a welcoming sight today when I woke up and got coffee. I had three giant amazon bags all from a best friend of mine whom I had met now... 4 years ago, I think- at a rehab facility I went to. He sent me a BUNCH of new items including a new deskmat, a new camera for my computer, two tarot decks and amongst other things! I was definitely not expecting this! If anyone wants a Tarot reading, please let me know! I would love to try out my new deck!

[riverxjackson]

River had been at the rehab a few weeks now, he wasn't liking it still but he was settling in for sure. That he had been off everything for a few weeks now he was still feeling bit off from that. But they informed him they did have programs for people to help with schooling. That he had the books and paperwork to get his GED but it wasn't easy at all. There was so many subjects and things he had not studied before. River was having a hard time with it for sure as he was trying to read about some sort of math on the computer. "This is stupid," he said to himself since he wasn't getting it. He wasn't getting math at all it was a hard subject for him always and this wasn't helping. The last schooling he had the math he learned was just the basics so the fact there were letters and more he wasn't getting it.

@nathanielxclairmont

[euphorial-docx]

11k words into aoe chapter 3 and regulus just now left rehab🎉🎉 let’s celebrate while we can

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre called on the federal government to shut down Montreal's first supervised drug-inhalation centre while stopping in the city Friday, saying the site is a "drug den." The Maison Benoît Labre drew criticism from residents before it opened in April and in the months following, with some parents saying they were blindsided by the decision to have the centre in a building less than 100 metres from the Victor-Rousselot elementary school. Located on Greene Avenue near Doré Street, the Maison Benoît Labre also contains 36 studio apartments, a kitchen and drop-in centre for people who are transitioning out of homelessness. At a news conference in a small park that borders both the centre and the school, Poilievre said other federal parties and their supporters in the media "want to make it sound like there's a constitutional obligation" to allow supervised consumption sites to open anywhere. Vowing to close such sites across the country, Poilievre said they have made "everything worse."  "We will close safe injection sites next to schools, playgrounds, anywhere else that they endanger the public and take lives," he said, before disputing the use of the term "safe injection site." 

Continue Reading

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland

[riverxjackson]

It was hard to talk to her about what he had done the past 15 years, what he got himself into and hooked on. He just did what he needed to get by for a while. For a while, he was drinking and using, his mind and body did make him feel like he needed it. "What Robert did was the worst the was in it for the money...that's it" he sighed as he looked over at his sister.

"There is so much..." he felt bad putting this all on her now. "I lived the best I can to get by working anything I can but it go to the point I was on the streets...." he couldn't look at her. "I ...I spoke about this in my groups and stuff. " so he did his best to think he was there. "I started to sleep with guys to get by make money.... it wasn't good thing I know but I paid well" he closed his eyes "I know the older guys knew who I used to be too" that made it all worse to him.

He told her more about what went on during that time. "But last year Robert came by after he left mom broke, asking Drew for money.. " he looked at her. "He went off saying how I was here using Drew and the worst" it all still did hurt in his memories. "I asked him if ever loved me.. if ever did care" he looked down at the table. "He said no, he had kids to make our mom happy but just used us to get money" he knew she didn't get in as deep as he did with making money as kid. "And that set me off I wasn't drinking then but I went out and drank and use...came back to here with Drew so out of it..." he looked away "I went to rehab after" he nodded. @auroraxjackson

Rory sipped upon her water as she listened to River recount his history back home. She didn't know the extent of any of it, of what he did or had to do after leaving home. She knew he had been famous, heck they had both been thrust into the spotlight in some way. But she never made it like he did. "Oh," was all she could say, her heart breaking for him.

Taking a bite of her food and then wiping her mouth with her napkin, she nodded in agreement about the cheese. "That too, everything about it is just so gross," it never melted right, and it also was a strange consistency too. "But like, she could have tried at least. I always thought she was strong, but then again....," she paused and let her words linger. Her whole world had basically come caving in at the end of 2023 and beginning of 2024. That she almost felt like she didn't know who her parents were anymore. "It just sucks," she huffed and sighed, not really knowing how else to put it.

But she was with him now, reunited despite the time span. Despite the physical distance. And despite Robert. She smiled back at him, still feeling as if it were all a dream and she'd wake up at any moment. "We all have shit we did and shit we went through." There wasn't anything he could say that would cause her to get up and leave. She had made the trip with little to no expectations and River had far exceeded everything she thought.

Getting up from her chair across from him, she then pulled out the chair next to him, sitting down. "I know," she said, squeezing his hand, and she did know. Of course Robert had told her everything, but made it seem that it wasn't his fault. That it was all on River, and all River's choice. But from what Rory had gathered before moving to Kismet Harbor and since moving, River was the victim and definitely not the person her father drew him out to be. Giving him a smile, she looked at him, "I'm not going anywhere." @riverxjackson

[blitzwhore]

So. Stolas is an alcoholic. That much is very clear at this point in the show and has been for a while now. He binge-drinks to cope with depression and with his life problems at large.

What's interesting is that he's far from the only character in Blitzø's life who is an alcoholic. In fact, substance abuse seems to be a recurring theme in the show. At least three other people Blitzø was or is really close with (potentially four, if we count his father) have struggled with substance abuse: Verosika, Barbie, and Fizz.

And the show has made a very clear point that both Verosika and Barbie have been in rehab. Not just that, but it's also emphasised that they're both still struggling with addiction (Verosika still drinks at her concerts, "clutches onto Beelzejuice bottles like they're the last cock in hell", and writes magazine articles about binge drinking being sexy; Barbie still peddles heroine, though not H8). Clearly, for both of them, this is an ongoing issue presently in the show.

So, with all of that being said, I recently saw someone theorise that, in a future season, Stolas is going to go to rehab, too.

I thought it was certainly a possibility, and one that I would personally love to see explored. So I've been thinking about it... and I remembered this:

The beginning of Unhappy Campers, and Blitzø breaking into rehab to go visit Barbie.

Now, I think a lot of people (myself included) felt surprised and a bit disappointed the first time we watched this episode, because our initial assumption was that Blitzø was trying to visit Stolas. It just made sense! Stolas was hospitalised right at the end of the previous episode and texted Blitzø that he could visit if he wanted to. (At this point, we also didn't know Blitzø had trauma surrounding visiting loved ones at hospitals). And suddenly they hit us with Blitzø seeking out Barbie out of the blue? So many of us were left wondering... why? Yeah, people have mentioned that maybe feeling like he could've lost Stolas prompted Blitzø to try to mend a different broken relationship, one that he felt he had more chances of fixing. But the timing, as well as the non-immediate revelation that it's Barbie he's looking for, is still... strikingly suspicious, isn't it?

And just now, after all this time, it hit me.

What if this is foreshadowing?

What if, all along, they were telling us Blitzø will visit Stolas at the hospital in the future... when Stolas is in rehab?

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Time passes in ways Eddie doesn’t fully understand, in the aftermath of Steve’s injury.

A few days are spent lounging around the hotel room with Steve drifting in and out of sleep, for the most part. Then they graduate to small day trips. Squeeze in some touristy shit; museums and landmarks not too far from the hotel, in case Steve gets a migraine or starts feeling nauseous. 

Day 6 features a follow-up at the hospital, where Steve is told the bandage is no longer necessary to cover the worst of the injury, surgery won’t be necessary, and he’s clear to fly home or wherever else he wants to go. Which means Eddie is also free to leave LA, but he’s already stuck it out this long, so he decides to continue to follow Steve’s lead and spend another day.

He gets a call from Steve before he leaves his hotel room on Day 7, informing him that Max is leading a trip to the beach before they leave California again. Steve insists it’s the least he can do since Lucas flew out to spend the last few days with her, so she could stick around until Steve was clear to travel again.

And that’s how Eddie finds himself wearing lavender board shorts from the surf shop that looked the least like a tourist trap, dousing himself with an entire bottle of the highest SPF he can find before stepping out of the store. His black ripped jeans and the Judas Priest shirt he’d worn, not anticipating a trip to the beach, are folded into the bottom of a large tote Robin is carrying with ease, as she picks out towels for everyone to lounge on. She catches sight of him and raises an eyebrow, but he holds his hand up to stop any commentary.

“Black is just going to make me burn even more than I’m already going to burn, and the blue pair I liked were the wrong size, so lavender it is.” He defends, but she just shrugs at him, keeps smiling and walks over to pay for the towels and her bathing suit.

Behind Eddie, Lucas clears his throat. He spins to find Steve, blushing and glaring at Lucas, who’s grinning. 

“What? Don’t tell me I need to defend the trunks to you guys, too. I thought you’d be on my side.” He whines.

“Oh, I don’t think Steve has any issue with your shorts. Or lack of a top.” Lucas teases, then laughs as Steve swings a soft punch into his shoulder.

“I just…” Steve trails off, turning his attention back to Eddie and Eddie can see the heat rise from Steve’s cheeks up to the tips of his ears, coloring him a soft shade of pink. “I didn’t realize how many tattoos you actually have, I guess.” He eventually settles on, before immediately occupying himself with finding sunscreen.

Eddie lets it slide, and they all pay for what they need, before crossing the street and trekking toward the water. Max is the first to toss her shorts and sandals into a pile, running toward the ocean and diving into the first wave she encounters. Lucas is just a step behind her, and he’s quick to catch her waist and throw the two of them back into the water just as she’s resurfacing.

Robin shoves a rented umbrella into the sand and Eddie helps expand it, as Steve lays out his towel so his face is covered by the umbrella’s shade, but his torso down is exposed to the sun. Eddie, on the other hand, huddles up so most of his body is concealed by the umbrella.

“Oh shit, dude, I didn’t even think to ask. Are you worried about getting seen out here or something?” Steve asks, and Eddie frowns. It takes a moment before he realizes it probably seems like he’s hiding from any potential paparazzi.

“I get bothered so little by media that I hadn’t even thought about that if I’m being honest.” Eddie shakes his head but smiles at how thoughtful Steve is. “I’m just a little too pasty to trust the sun on a cloudy day, so direct exposure like this always makes me nervous. But I like laying in the sand and I’m happy you wanted me to tag along. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he assures Steve, who smiles at him until Robin mocks a gagging noise and makes them both blush and look away from one another.

The salt air and crescendo of waves and bellowing laughter kick up a surprising amount of inspiration for Eddie, and he fishes his phone out of Robin’s bag, typing away while she and Steve sunbathe. 

He’s so caught up in the piece he’s working out that he doesn’t realize anyone has spoken to him until Steve’s pressing a hand to his knee, looking a little concerned. 

“What? Sorry, I got an idea and I had to get it out before I forgot about it.” He mumbles, typing out his final thoughts before giving Steve his full attention.

“We’re going to return the umbrella and grab food before heading back to the hotel to pack up, if you’re hungry?” Steve asks, smiling at Eddie. He looks back at his phone to realize their hour with the rented umbrella is nearly up, so he nods and helps clean up the space they’d taken over, before they find a beachfront restaurant that doesn’t mind that none of the guys are wearing shirts, or that Max’s hair is still dripping wet, leaving a trail behind her as they move to their seats.

Once they’ve eaten, they go back to the hotel. Eddie asks if he can shower to get the sand out of his hair before he changes back into the clothes he’d had on pre-trip to the beach. When he re-enters the room, almost everything is packed up and Robin is on the balcony, talking on the phone.

“Nancy called,” Steve explains from the sofa, as Eddie flops beside him, towel-drying his hair gently. He hadn’t bothered to put his shirt on yet, not wanting his hair to make it all wet while it air dries. “Did they hurt?”

“Hm?” Eddie’s confused instantly, looking at Steve before realizing he’s eyeing the tattoos across his chest. “Some of ‘em more than others, yeah. But it’s a good kind of hurt.”  Eddie explains, and Steve frowns, but that’s okay because Eddie knows not everyone gets what he means whenever he explains the tattooing experience like that. “It’s… kinda like if you have itchy sunburn and you accidentally scratch it? It feels good to have scratched it, but it also hurts.” When Steve still looks confused, it’s Eddie’s turn to frown. He looks over Steve’s exposed arms and takes in the soft golden color they’ve turned and his eyes narrow. “Do not tell me you’re one of those genetic anomalies that doesn’t sunburn and always has a perfect tan, Stevie.”

Now Steve is grinning, throwing a shrug in Eddie’s direction. “Blame it on the 8 years of swim club during the summer off-season.” Steve laughs as an explanation, and Eddie instantly wants to know more about everything Steve has ever done in his life, but doesn’t know where to draw the line at how much is too much to ask to know, so he ultimately doesn’t ask for any further information. Which is fine, because Steve is leaning closer and taking hold of his left forearm, twisting it and tracing a finger along a snake that wraps around his skin. “Do they have meanings?”

“Some of them, yeah. Some of them I just got because I liked how they look.” Eddie admits, watching Steve’s fingers trace along the delicate lines of the snake. “That one’s got its mouth open like it’s hissing and about to bite.” Eddie considers what comes next, and decides to just lay it all out on the table. Steve had been open and honest with him, Eddie could return the favor. “Snakes are supposed to be a symbol of inner strength and perseverance, and they look sick. I got it after my first stint in rehab.”

Steve doesn’t falter, doesn’t even blink, and if Eddie didn’t know better, he would think Steve had already known about his trips to rehab before he’d said anything. Instead, he moves on to trace a blackout band around Eddie’s bicep. “Do any of them have stories you want to share? You don’t have to if it’s too personal.”

He’s stunned to silence for a moment, something that doesn’t often happen to Eddie. But he’s so used to everyone pressing to hear more about rehab and addiction and recovery that his brain physically needs a moment to catch up to Steve. “Oh. Uh. I mean, the one you’re touching doesn’t have a meaning or story, I just liked how it looks.” Eddie thinks for a moment, then, before he holds out the inside of his right forearm. “This one is a puppet master. Master of Puppets is my favorite Metallica song, and when I learned to play it is when I realized that music could actually be a career path for me.” They run through a few other tattoos; the Wyvern, the spider, the “you bow to no one” in elvish down his spine. While still working up the courage to tell Steve more, he switches his approach. “Do you have any tattoos? Or have you ever wanted any?”

“I’ve never thought about it in a serious way, because I’m not sure I’d like having something on me permanently like that.” Steve shrugs, flipping his arm over to point at his right wrist. “The few times I’ve thought about it, it’s been like. A robin, here. The Roman numerals for 94 somewhere. That kind of stuff.”

Eddie smiles softly, nods. “It’s adorable that you’d want one for Robin.” He teases and lets the moment breathe for a moment before he circles back to the tattoo of the snake. “I’m not ashamed of my story, or my history, but we hadn’t really talked about, you know. That aspect of things, yet. But, I mean. I made terrible choices when I was younger, and I got in over my head with drugs harder than I realized. And it’s happened more than once. And I’m not naive enough to think I’m magically cured because drugs haven’t raised an issue for me over the last few years. But I’ve been mostly sober for almost 4 years.”

“Mostly?” Steve asks, concern clear in how softly he speaks, and Eddie can’t help but grin and shrug a little.

“Still some weed sometimes. Still drink beer sometimes. Both in moderation, not anything out of control. It, uh, probably sounds weird but those weren’t substances I had issues with, so I don’t… I don’t really think about drinking or smoking as cheating, but I know some programs would call it that way.” He shrugs, and Steve nods, processing the information.

“Well, thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s probably not easy to talk about, but. I learned a few new things about you today.” He offers with a little smile, and Eddie nods back. They slip back into silence, until Robin slips back into the room, looking between the two of them expectantly.

“Did you ask him?” She asks, and when Eddie turns his attention to Steve, he flushes.

“No, I uh…” He trails off, picking at a fingernail before looking up at Eddie, then back down at his hands. “We’re flying back to Chicago tomorrow, and we were wondering if you had your plans set for heading back to Nashville?”

“Oh, yeah. When you guys initially said you’d be leaving tomorrow, I booked a flight home for tomorrow afternoon.” He says and watches Steve’s lack of reaction. Wonders if he should have asked about joining them in Chicago until Steve gives an awkward smile. 

“Right, that makes sense.” He nods. “Well, we can all head to the airport together, at least?”

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie agrees, turning to look at Robin in the hopes of finding an explanation, but she turns away to take her turn in the shower, leaving Steve and Eddie together on the sofa.

~~~

Gareth picks Eddie up from the airport once he’s touched down in Nashville, and they head back to his house. Eddie throws himself into the comfort of his sofa, huddling up to a pillow with the intention of taking a nap, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. When he fishes it out, he smiles.

Stevie: Dustin has taken over the apartment, but we’re home. Hope you got home safe, too.

“Why are you smiling?” Gareth asks as Eddie is typing out his response.

“I’m not smiling,” Eddie responds instantly, schooling his expression and shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“Oh, so Steve texted you,” Gareth says, matter-of-factly, before scrolling on his own phone. “Want to order food? I’m hungry and you don’t have anything edible.”

“Why do you assume Steve texted me?” Eddie asks, frowning and sitting up straighter.

Gareth raises his eyebrow and glances over his phone at Eddie before he sighs. “Because you were making that face you’ve been making for the last month every time you text him, and you just got home from a week with him, so obviously he’s texting you again. Your turn to answer; food?”

Eddie stares at Gareth for a moment, watches as he turns his phone around to face Eddie, showing off the Uber Eats screen, before he scoffs and takes the phone to place his order. Before he hands it back to Gareth, though, he holds it just out of his reach. “What face am I making?”

“C’mon, Eddie, don’t play dumb.” Gareth laughs, but Eddie frowns deeper. Gareth frowns back, then. “You really haven’t put it together?”

“Put what together?” Eddie asks, finally handing Gareth his phone back. Gareth takes it, but doesn’t look away from Eddie until he answers.

“Dude, you’re in love with him.” He says, like it’s obvious, before going about placing his own order.

Eddie thinks for a moment. He knows he has feelings for Steve; finds him attractive and interesting and definitely wants to see if something is there. But to know that his friends can see through him puts him on edge, makes him defensive. “I’m not in love with him, we’re just friends.”

“Eddie,” Gareth laughs before he sees the serious look on Eddie’s face and he sighs. “Look, man. I’m not trying to start a fight or make you spiral or anything. I’m just saying. You leaned into a TikTok trend for him, voluntarily learned about the sport he plays, helped nurse him back to health after he got hurt and spent an extra week in LA to be with him longer. And now you’re texting him, again, like you did after we left Chicago. There’s something there, whether you want to admit it or not. Maybe it’s not love yet, but that’s where it’s heading.”

Silence settles over them, just the sound of Gareth’s short nails tapping against the screen of his phone, for a long moment. Eddie processes what he’s said, thinks it over, before flipping back to the text messages from Steve. He reads the words over and over before he decides on an answer.

Eddie: Glad you’re home safe. Miss you already.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a response, as Steve answers no more than two minutes later.

Steve: I miss you already, too, Eds.

Eddie considers responding but decides to tuck the phone back into his pocket instead. He drums his fingers against his knee, settling into a melody before he nudges Gareth’s leg with his foot. 

“Wanna help me set up the studio downstairs while we wait for the food?”

Gareth meets his look, raising an eyebrow. “Inspiration strikes over Steve Harrington?”

“I’ve got, like, four different ideas I started fleshing out in LA without instruments,” Eddie answers instead and ignores the smug look on Gareth’s face as they stand and make their way to the basement Eddie converted into a recording studio to get it ready while their food is delivered.

[iluvdubstep]

[riverxjackson]

It was a rough night before for River everything hit him hard with his father. That he went out and did things he knew he should not. That he felt that Andrew was disappointed in him. But was happy someone was doing so much for him. that before he didn't get that, he did try on his own and it didn't work fully for him. He was in the car staying quiet, he wasn't happy to be going, and he was still hurting and craving so it was hard. "I don't wanna go...." he wanted to just go back to his bed and not get up for a few days. He took in a deep breath and let it out as he looked at Andrew. River back to playing with his fingers a nervous habit he had. "I wasn't visited before...." he knew Andrew didn't know it wasn't his fault. But he felt like he didn't stay at the last one since he had no support. Rehab was going to suck and he knew it. He had delt with a detox a few times and it always hurt. Then his uncle and his wife he knew of even know he didn't get to know her well. It all was bad and River knew he did need the help, but wasn't going to enjoy getting it. Everything he did lead to him not feeling the pains in his head. That he could make his brain be quiet when he was drinking and using, so losing that was hard on him.

-timejump-

Andrew had thrown out everything that River had brought home, spend the entire morning preparing for options to offer River, including a place that had an immediate opening -- for the right fee. Once awake, Andrew had drawn him in for a long talk over food to get him somewhat less messed up from his nightly activities. When the time had come, he was driving River to the rehab facility, fingers tapping on the steering wheel as the radio alone wasn't enough to keep his mind occupied. "You know I'll come visit you, right?" He spoke, looking over at him for a moment until looking ahead on the road once more.

[pastafossa]

So I have/had two packages coming to me in the exact same period. A candle that shipped about 10 days ago via USPS, and shoes that shipped 2 days ago via Fedex. And it's hilariously just been like

USPS, taking a drag off a cigarette: right so we'll get that candle to your city, then over the course of 5 days we're gonna send it to a city 45 mins away, back to you, then to a city 2 hours away, back to you, then BACK to the 2 hour city, back to you, then we're gonna take a benzo nap for a 3 more days, maybe send your candle back to the city 2 hours away if we feel like it.

Me: ...oh. ok.

Meanwhile.

Fedex, snorting 6 lines of coke: so your shoes are in VIETNAM, gonna have those to ya in 2 days.

Me: but I - I didn't order expedited shipping or anything, how are you gonna get them to me in 2-

Fedex, bursting out of my kitchen cupboard in a puff of cocaine powder: SURPRISE BITCH, WE'RE ALREADY INSIDE YOUR HOUSE, FOUND A SPIDER, ATE THAT LITTLE BITCH ALIVE, ANYWAY GOT YOUR FUCKING DINO SKELLY SHOES HERE YA GO

Me: ...why the FUCK are you naked ????

Fedex, already streaking out of my house: SADDLE UP BITCHES WE'RE GOING TO NEW ZEALANDDDDDDD

[reidmarieprentiss]

The Hardest Goodbye

Summary: Spencer is using again after being rescued from Tobias Hankle.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst

Warnings/Includes: drug use, kidnapping, trauma, no happy ending, needles, talks of weight, talks about sex, rehab

Word count: 4.4k

a/n: so so so sorry about this one ,, when i say i live for the angst ... i mean it

main masterlist

When you started dating Spencer Reid, you never imagined the trials your relationship would face. The worst came when Spencer was kidnapped, a harrowing ordeal that left him physically and emotionally scarred. During his captivity, he was forcibly given drugs, leading to a painful and lingering addiction even after his rescue. 

Recognizing the signs that he was still using, you took it upon yourself to help him get into rehab, standing by his side through every step of the recovery process. You were his unwavering support, understanding that his journey would be marked by both triumphs and setbacks. Despite the challenges, you appreciated his efforts to overcome his addiction and never lost faith in his ability to recover.

On days when he struggled to motivate himself to attend rehab sessions, you would drop everything to accompany him, offering the strength and encouragement he needed. Your acceptance of his good and bad days showed your deep commitment to his well-being, and through your support, Spencer found the resilience to continue his fight against addiction. Your love and dedication became the cornerstone of his recovery, proving that even in the darkest times, he was never alone.

Finally, he’s clean. 

Life with Spencer has returned to a semblance of peace, a fragile tranquility that you both cherish deeply. The trauma of his kidnapping and the dark days that followed seemed like a distant nightmare, though the shadows of those memories still linger. It’s been a long, painful journey to get here, but here you are, together.

You and Spencer hadn't been intimate in what felt like forever. The ordeal with Tobias Hankle had left him deeply traumatized, and you respected his boundaries, giving him all the time and space he needed to heal. But now, with him clean and more like himself again, you thought it might be time to gently test the waters.

One quiet evening, as you sat together on the couch, you turned to him and let your hand rest on his. The warmth of his skin was a comforting reassurance. He smiled at you, a genuine smile that reached his eyes, and you felt a flutter of hope. You leaned in and kissed him softly. He responded, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache with love.

As the kiss deepened, you shifted, moving to straddle his lap, hoping to rekindle the intimacy that had been absent for so long. But the moment you settled in, you felt his body tense beneath you. He broke the kiss abruptly, his hands coming up to grip your hips, stopping you.

"Wait, please," Spencer said, his voice tight and strained. "I can’t... It makes me feel trapped."

You pulled back immediately, your heart breaking at the look of fear and discomfort in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Spencer," you whispered, moving off his lap and sitting beside him again. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way."

He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I know you didn't. It’s just... it’s hard for me."

You nodded, reaching out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "I understand. We don’t have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I love you, Spencer, and I’m here for you, no matter what."

He looked at you with a mix of gratitude and sorrow, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you. I love you too. I just need more time."

You gave him a reassuring smile, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "Take all the time you need. I’ll be here."

From that moment, you didn’t initiate anything again for a long time. You focused on being there for him, supporting him through his recovery, and finding new ways to connect and share your love. 

One evening, after months of patient waiting and gentle encouragement, Spencer finally took a step you hadn’t expected. You were sitting together on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background, when he turned to you with a look of determination mixed with vulnerability.

He reached out, his fingers lightly tracing your cheek before leaning in to kiss you. It was tender at first, but soon it deepened, the passion you had both suppressed for so long finally bubbling to the surface. Your heart raced as you kissed him back, feeling the intensity of his desire and his love.

As the moments passed, he gently guided you to straddle his lap, his hands resting on your hips. You could feel the shift in his demeanor, the hesitation that had once been there now replaced with a newfound confidence. You kissed him deeply, your fingers running through his hair, savoring every second of this long-awaited closeness.

But when your hands moved to the hem of his shirt, he stopped you, his grip on your wrists gentle but firm. He broke the kiss, looking into your eyes with a mixture of apology and regret.

"I can't... I can't take my shirt off," Spencer said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that broke your heart. "I lost so much weight while I was using. I... I don’t want you to see me like this."

You looked at him, your heart swelling with love and compassion. "Spencer, it’s okay," you whispered, caressing his cheek softly. "You don’t have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I love you for who you are, not for what you look like."

He nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for understanding."

You smiled at him, leaning in to kiss him gently on the lips. "Of course. We’ll go at your pace, always."

He sighed with relief, pulling you close and burying his face in your neck. You held him, feeling his body relax against yours. You knew this was a significant step forward, and you were grateful for his trust.

That night, you didn’t get any further than snuggling, but the intimacy was fulfilling without the need for anything more. Spencer was still healing, and you were more than willing to wait, to support him, and to love him unconditionally. The journey was far from over, but you knew that as long as you had each other, you could face any challenge that came your way.

As the weeks turned into months, your sex life began to resume, albeit with one consistent condition: Spencer always kept his shirt on. You respected his boundaries, knowing how sensitive he felt about his body after the ordeal he'd been through. Your intimate moments were filled with love and tenderness, and you found joy in reconnecting physically, even with this limitation.

However, as time went on, you couldn't help but notice subtle changes in his appearance. You had seen him eat heartily on numerous occasions, and it was clear that he had started to gain back some of the weight he had lost. His face had filled out a bit, and his arms seemed stronger. More noticeably, his ass and thighs were regaining their former shape, which you couldn't help but appreciate.

One evening, during a particularly passionate moment, you found yourself lost in the sensations and emotions of the moment. As you moved together, you squeezed his ass playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. "Looks like someone's been filling out," you teased lightly, your tone affectionate and playful.

But the reaction you received was far from what you expected. Spencer tensed immediately, his entire body going rigid beneath you. He pulled away, a look of panic and distress flashing in his eyes. "Don't," he said sharply, his voice almost a whisper but laced with a mix of anger and fear. "Don't say things like that."

You froze, your heart sinking. "Spencer, I'm sorry," you said quickly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulled back, wrapping his arms around himself protectively.

"I can't... I just can't," he muttered, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.

You felt a wave of guilt and worry wash over you. "Spencer, please talk to me," you pleaded softly. "What's going on? Why is this so hard for you?"

He shook his head, refusing to meet your gaze. "You wouldn't understand," he said, his voice breaking slightly.

"Then tell me," you insisted gently, desperate to understand and help him through whatever was tormenting him. "I love you, Spencer. I want to help you, but I can't if you shut me out."

There was a long pause, the silence between you heavy and fraught with tension. Finally, he took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. "It's not just about the weight," he admitted quietly. "It's... it's the scars. The marks from the needles, from Tobias... I hate looking at them. I hate how they remind me of everything."

Your heart ached for him, understanding dawning in your mind. "Spencer," you whispered, moving closer but still giving him space. "You don't have to hide from me. I love every part of you, scars and all. They don't change how I feel about you."

He looked at you then, his eyes filled with vulnerability and pain. "I just... I feel so broken sometimes. Like I'll never be whole again."

You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hands. "You are whole to me," you said softly, your eyes locking onto his. "You are more than your scars, more than the trauma. You're Spencer, the man I love. And I will stand by you, no matter what."

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he leaned into your touch, finally letting some of the walls around his heart crumble. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

One quiet afternoon, after Spencer had left for another case with the BAU, you found yourself alone in the apartment, your mind racing with worry and unease. Despite his assurances and your best efforts to trust him, there was a gnawing feeling in your gut that something was still wrong. Spencer's reaction to your playful comment had left you deeply concerned, and you couldn’t shake the sense that he was hiding something.

Driven by a mix of fear and determination, you decided to do some digging around the apartment. You hoped against hope that you were wrong, that you wouldn't find anything to confirm your worst suspicions. But you had to know for sure.

You started with the obvious places: drawers, cabinets, the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. You sifted through his clothes, checked under the bed, and even searched behind books on the shelves. The more you looked, the more desperate you became, tearing the apartment apart in your search.

After what felt like hours, you sat down on the edge of the bed, exhausted and emotionally drained. You hadn't found anything—no syringes, no hidden stashes, nothing to indicate that Spencer was still using. A wave of relief washed over you, and for the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe you had been wrong. Maybe he really was clean.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. "He's doing better," you whispered to yourself, as if saying it out loud would make it true. "He's really trying."

Little did you know, Spencer had taken the box with him on the case. He had become adept at hiding his relapse, and the box—a small, nondescript container with his supply—was his lifeline. He couldn’t bear to be without it, even when he was away on a case.

—

The day started off innocently enough, with you tackling the seasonal chore of rotating your closet. You hummed softly to yourself as you put away the heavy fall and winter clothes, making room for the light, breezy garments of spring and summer. It was a mundane task, one that allowed your mind to wander.

As you reached the back of the closet, your hands brushed against something solid and unfamiliar. Frowning, you pulled out a small, nondescript box. Your heart sank as you recognized it. Opening it confirmed your worst fears—inside were the remnants of Spencer's hidden stash.

You sat back on your heels, tears welled up in your eyes, and everything began to fall into place: his moods, his odd behaviors, the way he sometimes seemed distant even when he was right next to you. Hiding his upper body, probably covered in fresh tracks. The puzzle pieces clicked together in your mind, forming a picture that was devastating to behold.

Unable to think clearly, you quickly packed a bag, your hands shaking as you shoved clothes and essentials into it. You needed space, a moment to breathe and figure out what to say to Spencer. Yelling at him wouldn’t help; you knew he was in a fragile state, and the last thing you wanted was to push him further away.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you headed for the door, your heart pounding in your chest. As you opened it, you nearly collided with Derek. He was standing there, a look of surprise on his face.

“Hey, I was just—” he began, but stopped short when he saw your tear-streaked face and the bag in your hand. “What’s going on?”

You tried to stifle a sob, making eye contact with him for a brief, heartbreaking moment. Without saying a word, you pushed past him and hurried down the hallway, the tears flowing freely now.

Derek watched you go, a deep frown creasing his brow. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Spencer’s number. Spencer, who was out picking up Thai food for dinner, answered on the second ring.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Spencer’s voice was casual, oblivious to the storm brewing.

“What the hell happened, Spencer?” Derek’s voice was sharp with concern. “I just ran into your girl. She was crying and had a bag packed. What’s going on?”

There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. Spencer’s heart sank, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. “She knows,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “She found the box.”

Derek's confusion was evident in his voice as he pressed for more information. “Knows what? What box, Spencer?”

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to find the words. “The box... my stash. The drugs I’ve been hiding.”

Derek's silence was palpable, and when he finally spoke, his voice was filled with a mixture of disappointment and concern. “Spencer, why the hell are you still using? I thought you got clean.”

“I... I thought I could handle it, that I could control it,” Spencer admitted, his voice cracking with emotion. “But I couldn’t. And now she knows. She saw everything.”

Derek sighed deeply, his frustration and worry clear. “You need to get your ass home and talk to her. She’s hurting, man. You can’t keep doing this.”

“I know, Derek. I know,” Spencer said, his voice breaking. “I’m heading back now.”

As Spencer rushed home, his mind raced with thoughts of how he could possibly explain, apologize, and make amends. The fear of losing you was overwhelming, and he knew he had to face the consequences of his actions.

When Spencer finally arrived at the apartment, Derek was waiting for him, arms crossed and a stern expression on his face. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” Derek said, his voice low and serious.

“I know,” Spencer replied, his voice heavy with guilt and resignation. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the conversation he had been dreading. "Derek, it's bad. I... I relapsed. After everything that happened, after Tobias... I thought I could handle it on my own, but I was wrong."

Derek's eyes narrowed, his concern deepening. "Why didn't you come to me, man? Why didn’t you ask for help?"

Spencer looked down, unable to meet Derek's gaze. "I was ashamed. I didn't want anyone to know I was struggling, especially after everything we’ve been through. I didn't want to disappoint anyone."

Derek shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. "Spencer, we’re a team. We’re family. You don’t have to go through this alone. You can’t keep hiding this and expect it to just go away."

Spencer nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. "I know. But it was so hard, Derek. Every time I looked at myself, all I saw were the scars, the reminders of what I went through. Using again... it made the pain a little more bearable, even if just for a moment."

Derek placed a firm hand on Spencer's shoulder, his voice softening. "I get that, man. I really do. But you can’t let this destroy you. You have people who love you, who want to help you. You have her."

Spencer's heart ached at the thought of you, the pain he had caused you. "I know. And now she’s gone because of me. I need to fix this, Derek. I need to show her that I can get better, that I can be the man she deserves."

Derek nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Then you need to take the first step, right here, right now. No more hiding, no more excuses. We’re going to get you the help you need, and we’re going to do it together."

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. "Okay," he said, his voice resolute. "I’m ready. I’ll do whatever it takes."

Derek squeezed his shoulder, offering a supportive smile. "Good. We’ll get through this, Spencer. One step at a time."

When Spencer and Derek stepped into the apartment, the air felt thick with tension and unspoken promises. Derek wasted no time, his determination clear as he followed Spencer into every room, helping him purge the space of anything that could be linked to his addiction. Spencer hesitated for a moment, but then joined Derek with a renewed sense of purpose.

Together, they scoured the apartment, starting with the small, nondescript box Spencer had hideen. They threw away syringes, pills, and anything else that could be used to get a fix. Derek watched closely as Spencer deleted all his dealer contacts from his phone, a look of grim determination on his face.

"It’s not just about getting rid of the drugs, Spencer," Derek said firmly. "It's about making sure you don't have any way to fall back into that trap. We're going to clean this place out completely."

Spencer nodded, his jaw set as they continued their task. Every drawer, every cabinet, every hidden nook and cranny was searched and cleared. By the time they finished, the apartment felt emptier, but also lighter, as if a weight had been lifted.

Derek then stayed with Spencer, refusing to leave him alone. For three days, he kept a close eye on him, offering support, conversation, and even a few moments of levity to keep Spencer’s spirits up. They watched movies, played chess, and talked about anything and everything that could keep Spencer’s mind occupied and away from the cravings.

On the second night, Spencer broke down, the weight of his guilt and shame finally overwhelming him. He sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face. "I don’t know if I can do this, Derek," he admitted, his voice choked with emotion. "What if I mess up again? What if I can’t stay clean?"

Derek sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his back. "You can do this, Spencer. I believe in you. And you’re not alone in this fight. You’ve got me, and you’ve got her. We’re all here for you. You just have to take it one day at a time."

By the third day, the worst of the withdrawal symptoms had just started, and Spencer felt a  deep desire to use. He still had a long road ahead of him, but he felt stronger knowing he had people who cared about him and believed in him.

It was on that third day that you came home. The moment you walked through the door, you saw Derek and Spencer sitting on the couch, talking quietly. Spencer looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of relief and trepidation.

Derek stood up, giving you a small nod. "I'll leave you two alone," he said gently, walking past you and offering a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder as he left.

You stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of Spencer, who looked worn but determined. He stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He held his breath as he waited for you to speak.

"You need to check yourself into a clinic," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

Spencer blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"If you want to stay with me, you need to help yourself first," you continued, your tone firm but filled with concern. "Clearly, us working through it isn’t enough to help you. You need to take control of your life and your recovery."

He stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. "But... I thought we could handle this together. Here. At home."

You shook your head gently, stepping closer to him. "We’ve tried that, Spencer. And it didn’t work. You need professional help, a structured environment where you can focus entirely on getting better. I’ll support you every step of the way, but you have to make this commitment to yourself."

Spencer’s eyes filled with tears, a mixture of fear and resignation. "I don’t want to be without you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I’m scared."

"I know," you said softly, taking his hands in yours. "I’m scared too. But this is the best chance for you to truly heal. And once you’re better, we can build a stronger, healthier life together."

He nodded slowly, his grip on your hands tightening. "Okay," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll do it. I’ll check into a clinic."

Relief washed over you, and you pulled him into a tight embrace. "Thank you, Spencer. This is the right thing to do. For both of us."

Over the next few days, you helped Spencer make the necessary arrangements. You researched clinics, found one that specialized in addiction recovery, and made sure it had a good reputation. Spencer was hesitant, but your unwavering support gave him the courage to take this crucial step.

The day Spencer checked into the clinic, you drove him there, holding his hand the entire way. The building was imposing, but it represented hope and a fresh start. You parked the car and turned to him, giving him a reassuring smile.

"We’ll get through this, Spencer," you said, squeezing his hand. "I’ll visit as often as I can, and we’ll stay in touch. Just focus on getting better. That’s all that matters right now."

He nodded, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of fear. "I will. Thank you for believing in me."

You leaned in and kissed him gently. "Always."

With that, you watched as Spencer walked into the clinic, ready to face his demons and fight for his future. It was the hardest thing you’d ever done, but you knew it was the right choice. And as you drove away, you held onto the hope that this was the beginning of a new chapter for both of you, one filled with healing, love, and a brighter future.

—

Not even a week later, Spencer was walking back through your front door. The sight of him standing there, his bag slung over his shoulder, filled you with confusion, anger, and disappointment.

"What the hell, Spencer?" you demanded, your voice trembling with a mixture of emotions.

"I'm clean," he said defensively, dropping his bag to the floor.

"Clearly," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. "Why are you home?"

"I can check myself out whenever I want," he snapped. "It's not prison."

"I know that, but you agreed to go through the whole program, which is twelve weeks, not one."

"It was stupid," Spencer retorted, his frustration evident. "It wasn't helping. I don't need to be told not to use; I already know that."

You felt a surge of anger rising within you, your patience wearing thin. "This isn't about being told not to use, Spencer. It's about getting the help you need to stay clean, to deal with everything that led you to use in the first place. You promised you would try."

"I did try," he insisted, his voice rising. "But it was a waste of time. I don't need a program to tell me what I already know."

"You think this is easy for me?" you shouted, unable to hold back any longer. "Do you think I want to see you struggling, to see you hurting yourself? I pushed you to go because I love you and I want you to get better."

Spencer's face contorted with anger and frustration. "Well, maybe you don't know what's best for me. Maybe I know myself better than you do."

Tears welled up in your eyes as the weight of his words hit you. "Maybe you're right," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "Maybe I don't know what's best for you. But I do know that I can't keep doing this. I can't keep watching you destroy yourself and pretending that everything is okay."

"What are you saying?" he asked, his voice softening, a hint of fear creeping in.

"I'm saying I can't do this anymore," you replied, tears streaming down your face. "I love you, Spencer, but I can't keep sacrificing my own well-being for someone who refuses to help themselves."

Spencer's eyes widened in shock and desperation. "You can't leave me. I need you."

"I need you too," you said, your voice breaking. "But I need you to be healthy, to be whole. And if you can't commit to that, then I have to walk away."

You grabbed your bag, tears blurring your vision as you headed for the door. "I hope you find the strength to get the help you need, Spencer. But I can't be here to watch you self-destruct."

With that, you left the apartment, your heart breaking with every step you took. You knew it was the hardest decision you had ever made, but it was also the only way to protect yourself and give Spencer the wake-up call he desperately needed. As you walked away, you held onto the hope that one day, he would find the strength to truly heal and that perhaps, when that day came, you could find your way back to each other.

[riverxjackson]

He had been in the rehab just over a week now and he wasn’t feeling well. He still was feeling pretty sick. Just from not having anything and just the idea of it all. Being at a place that he felt so alone at. He knew there was other people in the rehab, doctors and other staff. But still he felt like they were just not real and he was there alone.  He sighed as he walked from the more like main room when people could watch tv, or playboard games.  To many people had come in so the noise was starting to get to him. He moved from the chair he had been curled up in for a while and made his way outside to a garden area. It was nice but still there was a fence that kept you inside and unable to leave. He stood there a moment then moved to go sit down on bench. There was not to many people people around him so he was glad for that. It was that weird mix of being around people and feeling alone, but also wanting to be alone too.  

River was in for the fact he had been drinking pretty much since he was fourteen and using for a few years past that. On and off for years but he did stop using about two years ago but his father showing up changed that. He let out a breath as he moved to lay down on the bench an old habit he had always was laying down on a bench at the parks in town. @madelena-sinclair at the Restored Horizons Addiction Center

[mugloversonly]

What Happens Afterwards?

I read this post by @acowardinmordor and was obsessed with what happened next. Written with their blessing.

also on AO3

tw: overdose, drugs, near death experience, mentions of HIV

Summary:

Famous Eddie doesn't touch drugs...too bad Steve does After Steve ODs at a Corroded Coffin concert, he wakes up in the hospital.

Steve woke up groggy and confused. Is he in a hospital? Suddenly the night rushed back to him. He did a line, borrowed a needle. He’d meant to go back to the dressing room, but he hit the deck before he could. Shit!

He shot up and frantically looked around, hoping beyond all hope that he was alone. Luck was not on his side though, because Eddie was asleep in the hospital chair next to him. Steve took a long look at the love of his life. His eyes were red and puffy with deep bags. His hair was a tangled mess as if he’d been yanking on it. And his clothes were rumpled as if he hadn’t changed them in days.

Steve sighed. He really didn’t want to have this confrontation right now. Before that thought could even leave his brain, Eddie opened his eyes and met Steve’s. The pools of chocolate were filled with a myriad of emotions. He leaned forward and took Steve’s hand.

“Hey, Stevie. How’re you feeling?” He asked softly as he reached over and pressed the nurse call button. Steve was confused by the softness, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“How did I get here?” He asked instead, dropping his gaze.

“You were brought in as a John Doe after the concert baby.” He whispered, his voice thick. “They said you overdosed.” He didn’t sound angry, Steve would have preferred that. Instead he sounded guilty. Steve forced himself to look and felt bile rise up at the expression on Eddie’s face. “I’m sorry baby.” Eddie said. “I’m so sorry.” Tears ran down his already tear coated cheeks. Steve expected yelling, berating, and ultimatum. Anything but an apology.

“Sorry for what, Eds?” He asked. “You didn’t do anything.” That turned out to be the wrong thing to say as it turns Eddie’s cries into sobs. Something sour built a home in Steve’s chest.

“Exactly! I didn’t do anything!” He said emphatically, gesturing wildly. “You were missing! And i didn’t do anything! I let everyone else handle it while i panicked. I still played the show. I didn’t follow my gut and looked who the junkies were that night!” Tears streamed down his face, but the words rattled something in him.

“How long have I been here?” Steve asked hesitantly. Eddie took a stuttered breath.

“Five days. You’ve been here for five days. You were missing for over 24 hours.” He bit his lip trying to stifle more tears.

Steve was floored. Five days?! Wait…missing? “Oh, baby.” Steve said, mournfully running the hand not hooked up to anything along Eddie’s cheek. He melted into the contact and put his hand over Steve’s. “I’m sorry for putting this much stress on you.”

“For a minute there, I’d thought it came back.” Steve knew exactly what Eddie meant. The upside down. “But when I found out you ODed…I almost wish it had.” Eddie admitted. “This is all my fault.” He whispered unable to hold the tears back any longer.

Steve felt like he’d been on top of the world from what he could remember of the high, and he thought about chasing that rabbit. But the look in Eddie’s eyes, the deep well of pure devastation and guilt swirled together, made Steve pause. He couldn’t do this to Eddie again. “This isn’t on you.” Steve insisted. “I told you I quit. You had no reason to assume I’d be in that bathroom.” Eddie just shook his head.

“If I hadn’t forced you on the road, you never would’ve had access to this kind of hardcore shit in the first place. If I spent more time with you, if I never left you alone, you wouldn’t have felt the need to do this.” Eddie trembled. “I should have protected you better, I knew what that shit could do, I’m so sorry baby.” Steve knew then that there wasn’t anything he could say. Eddie would blame himself for this until the end of time.

That more than anything else, broke Steve down. “I’m sorry, love.” His voice trembled. “I shouldn’t have lied. I just didn’t want you to worry.” He flipped his hand up in offer. Eddie immediately filled it with his. He squeezed it as he continued. “You had so much to worry about, I didn’t want to be another. But I should have known that you’d worry anyway.” Steve looked away, ashamed.

“Baby…” he was cut off as a doctor came in.

“Well, Mr. Harrington. You’re lucky to be alive. The cocktail of drugs you took was extreme.” The doctor said.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked.

“The heroine appeared to be laced with meth. And the line he did was cocaine and ecstasy.” The doctor said calmly. Eddie gasped a shuddering breath and his hands shook in Steve’s grasp.

“I didn’t know the heroine was laced.” He said. “It wasn’t my needle.” The regret was finally showing up. At this the doctor’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. Eddie yanked his hands away and covered his mouth.

“I’ll send in a nurse to grab some blood so we can run some tests.” He said. “In the meantime Mr. Munson, I recommend limited physical contact.” He directed that to Eddie with a look of sympathy. He nodded and the doctor took his leave. Tears sprang to Eddie’s eyes and ran down his face.

“You shared needles, Stevie?” He asked in shock, his voice quiet. His fear was clear on his face. “Have you been…doing other things for the drugs?” Steve had to come clean.

“I’d do pretty much anything for them.” He admitted.

Eddie stood up quickly and made to leave the room. “I’m going to go let Robin know you’re awake.” He dashed out before Steve could say anything else.

He fucked up. He always felt guilty after the high wore off, but this time it was horrible. He’s in the hospital, after disappearing for over a day. He should have been more careful. He knew sharing needles wasn’t the best plan, but at the time the high was worth it. But the look of betrayal, sadness, and the tiniest glimmer of disgust on Eddie’s face just now, was enough to make him never want to touch another pill. Sleep snuck up on him and he prayed that Eddie would be back when he woke up again.

His prayer went unanswered. The next time he woke up, it was Robin by his bedside. She was staring at the TV but she wasn’t really watching it. “Hey Robs” he said. She whipped her head around so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if it popped off.

“Steve! You’re awake!” She exclaimed. The smile on her face fell quickly. “You’re an idiot. If you weren’t in this hospital bed right now, I’d smack you.” He shrunk down in the face of her ire. “What were you thinking?!” She shrieked.

“I didn’t think it’d be that bad.” He admitted. The fire in her eyes could set the arctic ablaze.

“Not that bad? Not that bad?! You ODed at Eddie’s concert.” She began counting on her fingers. “You lied about being clean. You shared needles with some random junkies!” On the last point she threw her hands up. “How often have you done that? Don’t lie to me Steve.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Every once in a while when I get the itch for it. Maybe once every few months or so.” He admitted grimly. Robin’s eyes narrowed.

“So however many months you’ve been doing this, you’ve been sharing needles?” She clarified. At Steve’s nod she sprang up and paced the room. “Every time?”

“Not every time, but not rarely either.” He said as guilt started to creep into his stomach. She ran her hands into her hair and yanked on it softly.

“Have you been getting tested at least?” She asked.

“I’m not cheating on Eddie, Robin!” Steve yelled, hurt that she’d even imply that. She stopped pacing and turned to him.

“Okay, first. I didn’t say that. Second, your word has no credibility right now. I know you wouldn’t, dingus. That’s not why I was asking.” She grabbed his hand. Before she could continue, a nurse came in.

“Oh good! You’re awake. I’m going to be taking some blood okay?” She asked but really was demanding. She glared at Steve as he held out his arm for her.

“Is everything okay?” Robin asked. The nurse turned to her and gave a small smile before glaring again at Steve.

“With the patient, everything is looking like it’s returning to normal.” She snapped the tourniquet into place but when Steve flinched she didn’t look remorseful. She drew a few vials of blood, stuck a bandaid on, and pulled off the tourniquet all in silence. As she got cleaned up to leave, she finally spoke. “Look kid, it’s not my place. But that boy out there? I can take a guess as to what your relationship is with him.” She flashed a tiny pride flag pinned inside her scrubs. “He cares about you so much. He was beside himself when he came in and saw you, he had you moved to this room, he asked us if there was any kind of experimental treatment, anything to help you.” She turned that glare on him again. “He loves you to the ends of the earth and he will never leave you. You better clean up your act to be worthy of that devotion, because make no mistake. He would let you drain his veins and apologize for not bleeding out faster.” She stalked over to Robin and handed her a stack of papers. She jabbed a finger in his face, “don’t you dare break up with him in a misguided attempt to save him from you. You clean up your act. If not for yourself, then for him.“ With that she stomped out of the room and practically slammed the door behind her. For a moment neither of them said a word. Steve was filled with regret and Robin was a bit smug. She looked down at the stack of papers. Rehab clinics.

“Should we pick one?” Robin asked.

“I think I want to do it with Eddie.” Steve replied. “The nurse was right. And so were you. I’ve taken him for granted and my word means shit right now. I want to prove to him that I want to get clean.” Robin hesitated.

“Do you?” She asked. “You don’t seem particularly regretful about the actual drugs.” Her tone was soft even though her words were harsh.

“I do!” Steve exclaimed. “You didn’t see the look on Eddie’s face, Robbie. He was devastated and blamed himself for all of it. When I told him I’d do anything for the drugs he got up and left. I don’t think he’s coming back in.” He trailed off into a whisper. Robin took hold of his hand.

“Stevie, he’s right outside.” She said. At Steve’s confused look she continued. “He’s sitting on a bench right next to the door. He wanted to come back in, but I asked him to let me talk to you alone.”

“Why?” Steve asked. Robin’s eyes hardened.

“Because what I’m about to say, he wouldn’t like, but as your best friend I have to tell you hard truths. And Eddie's my best friend too so I have to protect him.” She took a deep breath. “You deserved his love once Steve. I truly believe that. But right now, his love for you is hurting him. And the only one who can fix it? Is you. He hasn’t slept or eaten practically at all since you disappeared.” Steve flinched at the word disappeared. “When he called me he was sobbing so hard I thought you died Steve.” Her eyes watered. “He kept repeating ‘it’s all my fault. I did this to him’ and Jeff had to take the phone to explain what was going on. When I got here, you were still touch and go. You died on the way here, Steve. They had to resuscitate you. The sound he made when the doctors told him that…” she shuddered. “I felt his heart shatter. The nurse is right. He will forgive you and he won’t ever stop loving you and he won’t ever leave you.” Her eyes got intense again. “So you need to promise me. Promise me! That you’ll take care of yourself. Because I don’t think I could survive watching him wither away if you leave him.” The emphasis she put on leave tore Steve apart. She didn’t mean break up with him. She meant leave him. “You don’t deserve his devotion. Not after you lied to him for months. But you have it. So now, you need to cherish it. Got it?” She asked. Steve could only nod as the dam finally broke. They held each other’s hands as they cried together.

~~~

“Can you get Eddie? Please.” He asked after his eyes dried up. Robin nodded and dashed out the door, waving Eddie inside.

Steve’s heart broke at the sight of him. He looked exhausted and his eyes were red rimmed as if he’d been crying for hours. Steve held a hand out to him and Eddie rushed to take it. Steve slid over in the hospital bed, yanking Eddie in after him. He curled around him and held him close being mindful of the wires in his hand as he draped it on Eddie’s chest. Eddie took a deep breath but Steve could feel the anxiety still thrumming under his skin. “I’m sorry, love.” Steve whispered. “I shouldn’t have lied.” He halted when he heard the sniffles. He sat up, peering at Eddie. His cheeks were wet again and Steve reached up to wipe them clean.

“Stevie, I have to ask…” he began. “And I hate to even think it. But…” he paused. “Did you…when you said you’d do anything for the drugs. Did you sleep with people for them?” He finally spit out. Steve wanted to be mad. He wanted to hiss and spit and rage at the accusation. But he knew that wasn’t fair to Eddie. He was within his rights to ask.

“No my love.” Steve promised. “Never.” Eddie nodded and sighed with relief. “I don’t know how much my word is worth right now.” He admitted. Eddie pressed a finger to his lips.

“I trust you.” He said. Those three words broke Steve. How could Eddie trust his word after everything? He asked him as much. Eddie just smiled softly. “I trust you because I want to. That’s all there is to it.”

“I’m sorry for everything.” Steve repeated desperately.

“I forgive you.” Eddie promised. “Now, let’s forget the past for a minute and focus on the future.” Eddie said. Steve looked over his shoulder to the door to the room and saw Robin and the Coffin boys. The boys were glaring at Steve but he knew it was because he hurt their friend.

Steve grabbed the rehab brochures and the two went over them until they found one that had a branch in DC. “I don’t want you to cancel the tour Eddie.” Steve was adamant. He ruined enough of the tour so far and he wouldn’t be the reason it ended. At least in DC he’d be close to Robin who would keep him in line. She promised Eddie daily updates (real updates) once Steve got out until the end of the tour. Eddie finally agreed after the boys convinced him he’d need the distraction so he wouldn’t be pacing around the house all day.

Steve leaned up to kiss him, but Eddie pulled away. The regret in his eyes was almost enough to soothe the hurt. “Not yet Stevie, okay?” He asked. Steve nodded but his head tilted in confusion. “Not until the blood tests come back.” He explained. Suddenly, Steve understood. He put himself at risk and Eddie too. The virus going around was deadly and Steve had been careless. Playing russian roulette with not only his life, but Eddie’s too and by extension the band’s.

The shame that filled him was so intense he reached over and retched into the nearby bed pan. Robin ran over with a trashcan and he kept heaving. Eddie rubbed his back as he emptied his body. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…” he cut off by dry heaving. He finally understood why Eddie ran from the room earlier and why the nurse glared at him. He’s a monster. He put the love of his life at risk of contracting a deadly disease just so he could get a fix. What the hell was wrong with him?

When he was finally done, he was exhausted. “Sleep baby.” Eddie whispered. Steve clutched tight to his hand.

“Will you stay with me?” He asked. As his eyes drifted shut.

“Forever.” Eddie whispered as Steve floated off into a dreamless sleep. His last thought was that he needed to prove he was worth forever.

~~~

The next time he woke up, Eddie was still there. Asleep curled up beside him. But in the chair next to him was someone he hoped not to see. Wayne. Their eyes met and he didn’t say anything, he just raised his right eyebrow and Steve folded. He apologized for letting Wayne down, for hurting Eddie, for lying about it. He begged Wayne’s forgiveness, but the man didn’t respond. His gaze flickered to his sleeping nephew and softened.

“You listen to me boy.” Wayne said. “My nephew is a gentle soul, quick to forgive and let things go. You should know that based on how he was after that spring break.” They both shivered at the memory. “So, he’s not going to want to hold you accountable. He’d rather just move on and take your word for it. But lucky for him, and not so lucky for you, I will be holding you accountable.” He leaned in. “I love you like one of my own Steve, I really do. But I love my brother too and he ain’t seen Eddie since they locked him up. Eddie forgave him within days, trusted him. I learned then, that if Eddie loved someone, he’d forgive pretty much everything just to keep them around. So I’ll tell you the same thing I told Al. Eddie is my boy, first. And I will protect him from anything that will hurt him, even if it’s himself. So I’ll be holding you accountable. You’re going to rehab?” Wayne asked. At Steve’s nod and explanation of where, he continued. “You’re going to give the rehab my information as someone who they can talk to. I’m going to call to check up whenever I see fit. Got it?”

“Yes sir” Steve replied. The nurse from before knocked and opened the door quietly. She paused as she saw Eddie curled up in the bed next to Steve. She gently shook him awake.

“Mr. Munson? We have both of your blood tests back.” At this Eddie was wide awake.

“You got some blood tests done Ed?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah, just um…just in case you know?” He trailed off not making eye contact with his uncle.

“Good news or bad news first?” She asked.

“Bad news first, always.” Eddie and Steve replied in tandem. They shared a private smile.

“Bad news, Steve you have moderate kidney damage. It won’t take much more to send them into failure.” She said with hard eyes.

“And the good news?” Wayne spoke up.

“Good news, you both are negative for any STDs. Including HIV.” The three men breathed a huge sigh of relief. The nurse turned to Steve. “You got lucky kid. Don’t forget that.” Steve assured her he wouldn’t and she left with a nod. He couldn’t believe he’d been so reckless. He turned to Eddie and was immediately pulled into a soft kiss.

~~~

“They said you’ll be discharged soon.” Robin said later. “Then what?” It was just the two of them.

“Then, Eddie drops me off at rehab and I get help. I stay clean. I do everything to be worthy of him.” He declared. Robin nodded her approval. Eddie came back from the hotel with all of their things packed away in a rental car. He slid into bed next to Steve.

“Hey, baby. You ready?” He asked. Steve nodded and they all left the hospital. The three of them piled into the car and drove Robin to the airport. She was going to fly back to give the boys some time alone. She hugged Steve and then Eddie. She whispered something in the his ear that had him tearing up. She went into the airport with a promise to call Wayne if she ran into any trouble.

Then it was just the two of them. They spent the first hour or so making idle small talk before the curiosity got the best of him. “What did Robin say to you?” He asked.

“Nothing important.” Eddie answered far too quickly.

“Oh, come on. You can tell me.” He knew he was being annoying but he didn’t want to think about what was awaiting him at the end of the ride. Eddie sighed, he never could keep something from Steve.

“She said if I could forgive you, I should forgive myself.” He admitted.

“You still blame yourself, love?” Steve asked. Eddie bit his lip as he nodded.

“If I hadn’t dragged you on tour, you never would have found that stuff.” Steve couldn’t let this stand. He knew he had to finally come clean.

“I was already doing it.” At Eddie’s questioning noise he continued. “As soon as we got to LA, I was looking for it. I did it at those events because it was free from someone else's supply.” He took a breath and glanced at Eddie before he admitted the next bit. “I didn’t get into this shit because I was on tour with you. I wanted to go on tour because I didn’t want to be away from you. That it would be way easier to get my hands on shit, just sweetened the deal.”

Eddie was quiet for a while after that. Steve glanced over and saw his cheeks were wet. He’d made him cry again. “So, you didn’t start them because of me?” He whispered.

“No love. And to be clear, even if I started on tour, it still wouldn’t have been your fault. You didn’t hold me down and force a line up my nose okay?” He reached out and wiped away a tear. “This was my choice. Just like going to rehab is my choice. If I didn’t really want to go, I wouldn’t.” His conviction was clear. Eddie pulled to the side of the road to kiss Steve softly before they drove the rest of the way in comfortable conversation.

They arrived at the rehab center and Eddie walked him inside. He checked in, Eddie handed over his credit card, Steve handed it right back and handed his over. The attendant smiled and swiped Steve’s card giving the boys a moment alone. They held each other close and kissed not caring at the moment who saw them. “I love you, baby. Don't forget okay?” Eddie whispered leaning his forehead to Steve’s.

“I know, love. I love you too. More than life.” He replied. He gave a final kiss to Eddie’s lips and followed the attendant into the center. He was determined to come out a new man.

~~~

Six grueling weeks later, Steve was out. He had a sponsor and group therapy sessions. Waiting to pick him up was Robin. Eddie was on the last few weeks of the tour. They had to extend it a bit to cover for Steve’s hospital stay. Robin gave him a long hug. “Ready to bust out?” She asked and they both got into the car. He lasted barely five minutes.

“How is he?” Steve and Eddie didn’t speak at all during his rehab. The center thought Eddie being on the road would be triggering to Steve. And to be frank, Wayne thought Eddie needed to distance himself from the process for a bit. Wayne and Robin had kept them both informed on the other.

“He’s okay. I mean…he misses you terribly, but he’s been coping on tour.” Robin said. Thankfully the drive wasn’t very long. Steve wanted to be in a familiar place, even if life outside of rehab was scary. They pulled up to Robin’s building and Steve stepped in after her.

There was a loud pop and confetti raining down on him. “Welcome home Steve!” Came several voices he was not expecting. The entire party was here. Wayne, Hopper, and Joyce too. But what brought him to tears was the sight to his left. Eddie was there, holding his arms open. Steve ran into them, nearly knocking them both to the ground.

“I thought your tour didn’t end for a few more weeks?” He asked in between kisses.

“I lied about the end date to surprise you.” He admitted holding Steve close. “Are you surprised?”

“Very! A good surprised!” The two pulled apart so everyone else could greet Steve. Eddie didn’t go far, not letting go of Steve’s hand the entire time. He’d felt better in rehab once the withdrawals subsided. More clear headed, more aware. But he didn’t feel completely healed. Feeling the warmth of Eddie’s hand in his, Steve felt hopeful for the future. As he made eye contact with the man again, Steve silently promised to stay clean. Not for just Eddie. But for himself too.

~~~

He skipped the next tour as recommended by his therapist. The two men decided it would be better if he wasn't alone, so Wayne stayed with him. He'd been retired from the plant and wanted to move out to LA with Eddie anyway.

He and Eddie had a hard time, but they make due with calls and letters. On one memorable occasion Steve sent a racy Polaroid. That night, Eddie called already worked up and they had a wonderful time. The reunion was so sweet. They were locked in their bedroom for days, coming out only for food and water. The rest of their friends knew better than to come visit until the love birds made the first move.

The band wrote a new album and started a nonprofit for drug addicts. It helped those who couldn't afford to get clean and see therapists, providing them with clean needles and clean drugs to help ween off them. Steve didn't shy away from his overdose, or the affect it had on those around him and he encouraged the others not to either. Eddie did several interviews on how helpless he felt when his "best friend" was taken to the hospital as a John Doe. This spurred the nonprofit to add resources for loved ones of addicts too.

Steve had been sober for three years when he went on tour with the band again. For real this time. He got clean and he stayed clean. When he was offered something at a party, he couldn't say he wasn't tempted. But he'd look over to see his love laughing and knew he'd do anything to keep that sound in the world. He never wanted to jeopardize Eddie's happiness again and he finally accepted he was his happiness.

And the next time the band played The Garden, Steve was on the sidelines cheering for Eddie and the band. He made sure Eddie could always see him and know he was safe. That look of guilt and devastation he saw in the hospital never returned to Eddie's face and Steve was determined to keep it that way.

[bonefall]

"Back in my day we loved our abusers or just disregarded them. We would never smash their heads against a wall until they agreed with us"

So... so you're just admitting you tried to Love and Kindness the abuse away?? You did that??? You think it's BAD to fight back against someone who is BEATING YOU?

Or does that mean, "we never demanded better treatment or justice. We just waited for our abusers to realize the error of their ways, like good victims."

I REALLY hope they get paid enough to go to therapy, this is actual factual abuse apologia. I am once again legitimately concerned for the mental health of these writers

[soulfullives]

“Can we talk?”

“No,” Sirius said, slumping further into his seat, stretching his legs. “Or yeah. I don’t know. We can talk about something, besides this.”

“Can I just say something?” Fleamont asked, taking a turn to the left. “So we can close off this chapter and go on about something else?”

The younger man shrugged.

“You can do rehab as many times as you need, in order for things to work out. Doing it once or thrice or a thousand times can be enough or not, whether you try to put in the work or not. We want to help you, in any way you need us to. You just need to be open to talk to us.”

“I don’t know why you’re trying so hard, it’s not gonna work either way.” Sirius pushed his hair out of his face, looking at him tiredly. “Why bother?”

“Because you matter to us. We’ll be there by your side, either way. And it will work, Sirius, because you’re strong-willed, I’d say almost stubborn sometimes.” Fleamont chuckled, which earned him an unimpressed, but amused snort from Sirius. “We have faith in you, you just have to have faith in yourself.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Dunno.”

“We have chicken alfredo pasta for dinner,” Fleamont added, chuckling. “Mia made it, knowing you like them.”

Sirius grinned. “Yeah, that’s true. James home yet?”

“Of course. He’s been missing you like crazy. Knowing you’d be home today, he went all out.”

“Classic,” He tsked, letting his head fall against the headrest with a thump. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure, kid,” Fleamont said, taking a turn. “Anything you want.”

“I’m bisexual.”

“Well, know that we love you and always will—nothing about this changes that. It takes courage to share something so personal, and I’m proud of you for trusting me. You’ll always have our full support, no matter what.”

Sirius smiled, turning up the radio. “Thanks.”

“So,” Fleamont started, whistling alone to the tune, “found someone, then?”

Sirius scoffed. “No. But I appreciate the thought behind my relationships. No, though. Probably gonna lie low for a while; that’s what I was recommended, at least.”

“You know best,” He answered, pulling into the driveway. “There we are. Welcome back home, Sirius.”

[compassionatereminders]

Like even if a person is addicted to heroin or another "scary" drug, what we as a society could and SHOULD do is make sure that the heroin is as safe as it can be, and that he has the resources and knowledge required to prevent infections, injuries, overdoses and other serious health risks, and that relevant rehab, treatment, support and detox programs are available to him if/when he decides he wants to pursue them. Punishing him as a dangerous criminal for being an addict isn't going to shame him out of addiction, and that approach is genuinely far more likely to literally kill him than to actually solve the issue