[Content Warning: Withdrawal and Drug use.]

Alone and scared in the living room of an apartment belonging to someone he did not know, Deck started to tense up all over again after relaxing the amount he had. And this much relaxation was exceedingly rare for him. This tenseness in his muscles caused him to realize that he was quite achy, and not just in his arms, it was all over. Was he sweating too? Shit. It was starting, wasn’t it?

Deck stood quickly, maybe a bit too quickly as he stumbled and almost had to briefly sit back down, but he regained his balance and scanned the room for his belongings. A torn up black backpack and his worn out black boots, which he retrieved quickly, slinging the backpack over one shoulder and sliding his boots on without actually tying them. He glanced around for an exit, which turned out to be in the kitchen, where Lars was, but he took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen.

“Uhm, thank you, Lars. But I have somewhere I gotta be.” Deck said quickly and shakily with his eyes to the floor before quickly exiting Lars’ apartment without a goodbye.

With his quick walking and the pull of withdrawal, his shirt was beginning to cling to his skin, which wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, yet. His mind had only one objective; to find exactly what he needed in this moment.

Back at Lars’ apartment, Lars stood near his stove with a concerned and confused expression, clueless as to why the man was in such a hurry. He figured, maybe he shouldn’t worry too much, he was an adult and likely could take care of himself, though something sat in the back of Lars mind. A thought that clung to the part of himself that held care for nearly everyone he met.

Deck was racing down the sidewalk as he got further and further away from Lars’ place, and part of him wanted to go back because he was so intrigued by the way Lars was treating him, but he was focused mainly on “fixing” this pain. It was midday, though, so this was going to be rough.

Starting with his hands, he was beginning to shake, and this was terribly frustrating him; and before he knew it, he was trembling from head to toe. He took a sharp turn into a vacant alleyway before kneeling down and frantically searching his backpack, for something, anything.

To his surprise, and relief, he had forgotten he was carrying what he thought he needed, then grabbed his backpack and hid himself as well as he could, further in the alley. He knew the steps, it was quick and easy at this point, after so many times. Roll up the sleeve, quick jab, and skyrocket. His breath came out long, and slow, and he slumped soon after releasing the tourniquet.

Lars paced in his home, the nagging thought that Deck might not be in such a great state clung to him like a bee to its hive. He was desperately trying to push the thought away and try to pay attention to the show he was watching, he barely knew the guy!

It was near 6 p.m. now, Deck had left around maybe 1 p.m., but why did this matter so much to Lars? He was just another junkie.

With a frustrated growl, Lars shot up from his couch and quickly readied himself with his usual shoes and a jacket. He left his apartment, locked the door, and stuffed his hands in his pockets before speed walking down the sidewalk. He stopped for a moment and almost turned around to try to convince himself that his guy was not worth his time, but he just picked up walking again and went on searching.

He walked into several bars and even very cautiously searched the areas he knew people would usually buy substances, but he found no trace of Deck. But after searching a few alleyways, about a half hour of searching, he found the blond. Head drooping to the side and likely unconscious. Lars knelt down in front of him, grasped Deck’s shoulders and gave him a gentle shake.

“Come on, buddy. Show me some life!” Lars said, in a panicked tone.

He slid his hand under Deck’s chin and lifted his head to look at his face, noticing eyes half closed and fuck, he looked horrible. Lars, drew a hand back and gave a swift slap across Deck’s cheek, just enough to shock him a little. His half closed eyes opened a bit--

Blurry… There’s someone in front of Deck, but he can’t really tell what’s going on, but he drifts off again, this time slumping down to his right.

“No, you gotta get up! Come on, boy.” Lars exclaimed, and that was the last thing Deck heard before he fully lost consciousness.

Once again, waking up in Lars’ apartment, lying on his side on his couch. It must’ve been around midnight or later, Lars was asleep in a chair nearby. Deck slowly sat himself up, noticing the weight of a light blanket and that his jacket was off this time. He was terribly out of his head, unable to fully register his surroundings, but he knew something wasn’t right.

Lars awoke with a start at the sound of deeply pained sobs, Deck had his arms crossed over his chest with his hands on his shoulders, eyes to the floor with tears flowing fast and free down his cheeks and dripping from his nose. This type of pain was not foreign to Lars, the sharp mental pain of sudden change. He knew, and he was sure Deck knew, everything was about to get much different from what they’re used to.

Especially when, on instinct, Lars stood and gently sat himself next to Deck, slowly and cautiously draping an arm across his shoulders and drawing him close. Deck didn’t recoil this time, only sank into Lars’ arms, grasping the other man’s shirt, and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Now this, this is the thing he really needs...