30 Day Prompt Challenge: Day 20. Needles
Pairing: Changmin/Yunho, implied Jaejoong/Yunho
Rating: R
Genre: Angst
Drabble: 777 words
Warnings! drug abuse, suicidal thoughts
Summary: Yunho has a fetish for needles that land him in the hospital.
20. Needles
It hurt a lot. The needle digging into his flesh and the rubber tubing connected to it. The pinch and the pull restricted him to his back, not allowing any movement in the search for comfort. When Yunho thought of needles in his arm, he hadn’t imagined this -breath wheezy and weak, skin flaking off from a rash, lips parched and peeling, and chained to this damned hospital bed by machine and man. That’s right, Changmin only let go of his hand to take a piss and shovel food down his throat, and only when he thought Yunho had lapsed into sleep.
The experience wasn’t that bad considering how much he relied on needles to provide comfort. The sturdy feel of the metal and the coldness of the liquids they transferred, sometimes he wondered how others lived without it. Yunho relished the competitive nature he slipped into when he raced against a buddy to wrap up his arm and find those elusive veins. Ah, veins. Maybe instead of a fetish for needles it was a fetish for veins. He traced his dry fingernails across those little lifelines like they’d lead him to a whole new world of blowjobs and sunshine at midnight.
His foot itched and he had no way of reaching it. The sleep induced uselessness of Changmin’s had struck maybe an hour ago, and an hour ago Yunho’s foot decided to demand attention like a fucking itch.
Except Yunho really loved the look of Jaejoong, his friend in crime, with holes all over his body. His ears, his eyebrows, his nipple, his sweet little cock, his lip, his nose. God, how many times had Yunho lost himself just watching Jaejoong get another piercing or accept the gracious art of a tattoo? But Yunho was a fucking pussy every time and wouldn’t get one himself. Pain hurts, it seems obvious, but he really just didn’t want to come home one morning to Changmin’s screaming about “who the hell is Heechul?” and why didn’t Yunho every tattoo his name into his thigh?
Man, when was breakfast? Actually, it looked like the sun was setting, so when was dinner? That’s all Yunho could make himself feel guilty about, making Changmin miss work and meals, particularly the missing meals part. But really, that just showed it, didn’t it? Changmin was here by his side where Jaejoong was God knows where doing God knows what with shit only God could guess in his body. Because Yunho still kind of believed in that guy despite all the crap he’s had to deal with in life.
He hadn’t meant to OD, the rush of whatever was in those needles just kept him going. As if he couldn’t stop until all the colors blended together and fingers ached just from being attached to his body, he kept going. The warning signs might have been when his skin started changing colors even when he wasn’t jacked up, or the bruises that didn’t heal after a week of using the other arm. But fuck, it always felt good, and the fact that his skin was starting to peel off didn’t even register in his mind.
Changmin had cried when he got the call, Yunho knew. Changmin cried when Yunho woke up, so of course he called from just a call. If he didn’t, Changmin could be strong enough for both of them. He could slap away all those pills and maintain all his finances, or he could lock Yunho in one of their spare bedrooms and only let him out for a healthy type of pleasure. Yunho wished Changmin would introduce him to some hobbies that’d occupy his time and body, preferably hobbies that don’t almost kill him.
In movies he had seen people fight depression and poverty with their heads held high and their fingers twitching for a hand to hold instead of a syringe to plunge. In movies…
When Yunho tripped on acid, he was the main character searching for an archaic treasure that even Nicholas Cage couldn’t steal, and when the movie ended, he felt more valuable than every dollar chipped in to make the film. It works a little differently when it’s a horror movie, but it’s really rewarding to slaughter everyone in their dreams, all on an Elm Street.
Bad, bad, bad, bad. Yunho was bad. The needle in his arm turned him on even this very second, and the intravenous fluid looked as appetizing as everything he had shot up. Bad, bad, bad, bad. Yunho was a horrible boyfriend to Changmin and that loving Saint didn’t deserve this. No one deserved to deal with this anymore.
Goodbye, Yunho’s needles.
Day 19. || Day 21.
Rating: R
Genre: Angst
Drabble: 777 words
Warnings! drug abuse, suicidal thoughts
Summary: Yunho has a fetish for needles that land him in the hospital.
20. Needles
It hurt a lot. The needle digging into his flesh and the rubber tubing connected to it. The pinch and the pull restricted him to his back, not allowing any movement in the search for comfort. When Yunho thought of needles in his arm, he hadn’t imagined this -breath wheezy and weak, skin flaking off from a rash, lips parched and peeling, and chained to this damned hospital bed by machine and man. That’s right, Changmin only let go of his hand to take a piss and shovel food down his throat, and only when he thought Yunho had lapsed into sleep.
The experience wasn’t that bad considering how much he relied on needles to provide comfort. The sturdy feel of the metal and the coldness of the liquids they transferred, sometimes he wondered how others lived without it. Yunho relished the competitive nature he slipped into when he raced against a buddy to wrap up his arm and find those elusive veins. Ah, veins. Maybe instead of a fetish for needles it was a fetish for veins. He traced his dry fingernails across those little lifelines like they’d lead him to a whole new world of blowjobs and sunshine at midnight.
His foot itched and he had no way of reaching it. The sleep induced uselessness of Changmin’s had struck maybe an hour ago, and an hour ago Yunho’s foot decided to demand attention like a fucking itch.
Except Yunho really loved the look of Jaejoong, his friend in crime, with holes all over his body. His ears, his eyebrows, his nipple, his sweet little cock, his lip, his nose. God, how many times had Yunho lost himself just watching Jaejoong get another piercing or accept the gracious art of a tattoo? But Yunho was a fucking pussy every time and wouldn’t get one himself. Pain hurts, it seems obvious, but he really just didn’t want to come home one morning to Changmin’s screaming about “who the hell is Heechul?” and why didn’t Yunho every tattoo his name into his thigh?
Man, when was breakfast? Actually, it looked like the sun was setting, so when was dinner? That’s all Yunho could make himself feel guilty about, making Changmin miss work and meals, particularly the missing meals part. But really, that just showed it, didn’t it? Changmin was here by his side where Jaejoong was God knows where doing God knows what with shit only God could guess in his body. Because Yunho still kind of believed in that guy despite all the crap he’s had to deal with in life.
He hadn’t meant to OD, the rush of whatever was in those needles just kept him going. As if he couldn’t stop until all the colors blended together and fingers ached just from being attached to his body, he kept going. The warning signs might have been when his skin started changing colors even when he wasn’t jacked up, or the bruises that didn’t heal after a week of using the other arm. But fuck, it always felt good, and the fact that his skin was starting to peel off didn’t even register in his mind.
Changmin had cried when he got the call, Yunho knew. Changmin cried when Yunho woke up, so of course he called from just a call. If he didn’t, Changmin could be strong enough for both of them. He could slap away all those pills and maintain all his finances, or he could lock Yunho in one of their spare bedrooms and only let him out for a healthy type of pleasure. Yunho wished Changmin would introduce him to some hobbies that’d occupy his time and body, preferably hobbies that don’t almost kill him.
In movies he had seen people fight depression and poverty with their heads held high and their fingers twitching for a hand to hold instead of a syringe to plunge. In movies…
When Yunho tripped on acid, he was the main character searching for an archaic treasure that even Nicholas Cage couldn’t steal, and when the movie ended, he felt more valuable than every dollar chipped in to make the film. It works a little differently when it’s a horror movie, but it’s really rewarding to slaughter everyone in their dreams, all on an Elm Street.
Bad, bad, bad, bad. Yunho was bad. The needle in his arm turned him on even this very second, and the intravenous fluid looked as appetizing as everything he had shot up. Bad, bad, bad, bad. Yunho was a horrible boyfriend to Changmin and that loving Saint didn’t deserve this. No one deserved to deal with this anymore.
Goodbye, Yunho’s needles.
Day 19. || Day 21.