Page 37 of Requiem
“I don’t want to take that shit,” he hisses.
The words echo in the room. I know that when someone is addicted to drugs, they can be stubborn and irritable. It’s notthem, it’s thedrugs.
“I need it,” he says, voice breaking now, the fight draining out of him as fast as it came. “Ineedit, Micah. Just...just please, give me something. You know more than anyone.”
I force my voice to stay level. “I can’t do that.”
His face twists like I just stabbed him. “Then get out,” he rasps, turning his head away from me like he can’t even stand to look at me anymore. “You’re fucking useless.”
That one hurts. But I let it, because he's right. I’m part of the reason he’s here. I didn’t stand up to Nolan or Adriana or even Alexei. I didn’t do anything when he needed me to. I blame myself, no matter what anyone tries to tell me. I was too scared of being forced into withdrawals andwanting to die again. So I cowered, allowing my best friend to get dragged into fucking hell. I’ll never forgive myself for that.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, and for a second, there’s just the sound of Jude’s uneven breathing. An image from his overdose flashes across my mind, when his breath just stalled and refused to work. I was so scared.
“I don't,” he mutters.
I glance at him. “Don’t what?”
“I—” His voice fractures again. “I don’t want to be here. Micah, I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired.”
That one hits harder.
I exhale slowly, lean forward, and brace my forearms on my knees. “You can't give up,” I say quietly. “Because I love you. I always have. You know that. We’ve been together through horrific shit that people could never evenbeginto fathom.”
Silence.
Then, suddenly, he lunges. The chain snaps taut with a violent crack as his hand catches on my shirt. And he’s right there, in my space,grippingme. His fingers twist into the fabric like he doesn’t know if he wants to shove me away or pull me closer. I can see the hesitation in his dark eyes.
For a split second, I think he’s going to swing on me again. I don’t move. “Go ahead,” I say under my breath. “If that’s what you need to do.”
His hand tightens, his eyes locked onto mine like there’s a war happening behind them and he’s losing. “Stop—” he chokes, but it’s not directed at me.
It’s athimself.
His grip loosens, then tightens again.
I glance up at the camera, holding both of my hands up in surrender to show him that I’m no threat. And to show Heather, Emma, and Rafe that I’m okay and not to interfere. My heart is racing as I look into my best friend’s exhausted and tortured eyes…
His forehead drops against my shoulder, his entire body folding in as a broken sound escapes him. It’s raw and brutal pain, just tearing through his entire body.
“I can’t—” he gasps, clutching onto me now, fingers digging in. “I can’t do this, I can’t,fuck. Micah...”
I don’t hesitate. I pull him in, one arm wrapping tight around his back, the other coming up to cradle the back of his head like I’ve done a hundred times before. Like we’re twenty-three again, and the world hasn’t destroyed him yet. The physical and mental toll that withdrawal puts on you is something that most people don’t understand. It’s the reason why many don’t ever make it out alive.
“I’ve got you,” I say quietly. “Please take it, Jude.”
He stills, thinking.
“It’s helped me so much,” I say. “Youknowme, okay? Come on.”
He lets out a broken laugh against my shoulder that turns into a sob. “I hate you,” he mutters.
I huff a quiet breath. “Yeah, well, I hate you a little right now.”
“I don’t know.”
My chest is full of pressure, but I keep my voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.” And I mean it. I’ll never leave his side again. Hell, I’ll buy a house for all of us to live in together so I never have to live my life without him. My soul friend. My fuckingeverything.
His body keeps shaking, sweat soaking through both of our shirts now. Every so often, he tenses like he’s going to push me away again, but doesn’t. But I don't move or say anything for a while, because I know that this alone is progress.
