[[ RL - Crowley ; I hope they're doing fine out there without me ]]
He'd always known he'd had a self-destructive streak. It was what had gotten him where he was today, after all. He had always taken risks that were never worth taking, always pushed himself well past his limits. Maybe out of spite for those around him, maybe for attention. Maybe a mixture of both. It was hard to tell. And ever since that last incident in the Dreaming, ever since he had been banished from his home....it was as though that streak had kicked itself into overdrive.
Except this time he couldn't even be bothered to try and work out of it.
It had been....three days since he had left his hotel room last? Four? He had been feeling sick lately, allowed it to worsen until it kept him from going out, and eventually from even getting out of bed at all. It shouldn't have been surprising, really. His drinking and smoking habits had increased two-fold ever since his arrival. He only just barely managed a couple hours of sleep a day. Avoided it entirely when he could help himself, just to keep the dreams away, to keep the memories at bay a little longer.
His eating habits were the only thing that hadn't changed; he still ate as little as he had before the mess, before the fall, which admittedly only made the strain on his body that much worse.
It had only been a matter of time before his body finally collapsed on him. He just no longer had any will or motivation to fix it. He'd already been abandoned. Had everything that made him who he used to be ripped away and discarded, his mantle handed off to the obsessive, sadistic little fuck who had caused the entire mess in the first place. Been punished severely for doing only what he had been made to do.
And in the haze of the ever present depression that clouded his mind, he vaguely wondered if it would make any difference to just....give up.