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Hyde BW

eadwine63 in sakuhai

oneshot] intoxicated memories

Title: Intoxicated memories

Genre: drug abuse, angst/drama, character death.
Pairing: Sakura x Hyde
Disclaimer: I don't own Sakura or Hyde... sadly. If I ever do, I'll take pictures for your entertainment.

Intoxicated memories

There’s a slightly muted beep and nothing else. There’s that horribly long, monotonous beep I never wanted to hear so close to me. There are also the soft rustling sounds inside the room I’m standing in front of. There are actually a lot of noises around here, but the beep that’s supposed to be just a quiet sound, still sounds the loudest. I think I’m not even supposed to hear it; maybe my mind is conjuring it up, because somehow we all know how it’s supposed to sound.

All I can see are white blurs moving inside that room that looks surreal. I think I’m crying hot tears, but I don’t know for sure. It all seems so far away; like I’m not even here or like it’s not really happening, at least not to me.

But the truth is that it is happening to me – that it’s even happening because of me. I feel so guilty and yet I am not really able to feel anything at all. Part of me hopes I will never truly feel any of what I should be experiencing right now. I don’t think I’d survive that, honestly.

People are slowly coming outside the room now and only one of them squeezes my shoulder. I’m sure the rest is looking at me with accusation written all over their faces. And they are right to do that, I guess. I was the one who started this, after all.

~ .~ .~

“Why do you keep doing this? You’re playing a dangerous game, Sakura,” Hyde spoke up. He was obviously angry, but somehow his tone of voice didn’t really speak of anger, but more so of disappointment.

“I know,” I only whispered to him and stared at the carpet. We just came back from a performance and I had been stupid enough to shoot up a bit before. It wasn’t the first time and I believe Hyde even knew I occasionally used. But I’d never taken anything before a concert. I was stupid.

“You’re getting addicted, Sakura. Or you already are. Don’t disappoint us all. Don’t be stupid.” I could easily hear that he meant to say I shouldn’t disappoint him in particular.

I had been fine during the live performance, but as soon as that had ended, it didn’t feel good anymore. I wasn’t sick, just more tired than was normal. I felt dizzy and if Hyde and Ken hadn’t been there to steady me, I’d have fallen down the stairs most likely. Ken hadn’t said a word – he had maybe made a joke, but nothing more. Hyde, however, had a knowing look in his eyes. He’d insisted on going home with me, giving me no choice in the matter.

“I’m not addicted,” I muttered, refusing to look at Hyde and by that, refusing to admit to the truth.

“You took drugs on a fucking concert, Sakura! Is it that good?! Don’t go and ruin this for all of us. Don’t you know what you’re playing with here? It’s not just your own life you’re playing with, it’s all of our lives.”

“You don’t understand,” I muttered to him. He couldn’t understand. Only someone who has felt what it is like to see everything swirl in different colours in front of you, to feel like you can do anything, like you can fly – only someone like that can understand and even then it’s hard. The experience of taking the drugs is amazing. It feels … heavy. It’s like I can’t move my limbs anymore, but at the same time it’s so easy to move. Sometimes it’s like someone else is controlling my body. It’s amazing, really. Addictive. “You don’t understand, Haido.” I muttered again and he shook his head.


I wish I had never said those words. Those words were the first ones that dragged us down. I wish I would just have stood there and taken the blow I should have seen coming. I should have just accepted that what Hyde was saying was the truth. I should have realised he cared about me more than I had always assumed and only wanted what’s best for me. I wanted what’s best for him, but my judgement was clouded – and still is. I should have done so much different and even now I’m screwing it up.

The room is silent now, the monotonous beep has vanished. The door is open and I don’t dare to even look inside. I know there will only be pain in there. It’s as if by standing here forever, I can make his presence last. I still don’t realise what I have lost, do I? Everything is a blur, everything is surreal. It’s a miracle I even called 119. My hand rests against the door post and I notice I can’t feel the texture against my fingers. What should I care anyway?

The first footstep is the hardest, but after that one, it’s surprisingly easy to walk towards the bed. His eyes are closed, as if he’s merely resting. But the lack of sounds in this room speak for themselves. No rustle of bed sheets, no beeps, not anything. No soft breathing like I used to hear at night. I know his breath, know his heartbeat, but even that knowledge can’t make them return.

“Haido …,” I mutter and fall on my knees next to the bed. He is pale, cold and still I think I can see a bit of sweat lingering at his temples, at his hairline. “I’m sorry.” It’s too late to be sorry now. I’ve said those words too damn much already.


“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but to no advance. Hyde was still looking at me, his hand on his waist like a woman enraged. His long shirt too big for him and his soft curls falling over his shoulders gracefully. I can still picture him like that. So beautiful.

“There is no need for apologies, Sakura. You need to change.” I nodded. I knew I had to change. I had so much time to change and never grabbed the chance when it presented itself. I’m sure there were enough chances like that.

“Maybe I don’t want to change. It’s beautiful, Hyde.” I smiled childishly. I was high and nothing could touch me, not even Hyde’s anger and disappointment when he ushered me outside the band meeting before the others got a decent look at me. He saw what I thought no one would catch on to. He knew.

“Beautiful, my ass,” he snarled at me, “Sakura, for god’s sake, snap out of it. Don’t you see what you’re doing? Don’t you see the danger?” Of course I didn’t; not at that time. And even when I did come to see the dangers clearly, I didn’t stop. Neither did he, when it came down to it.

“It’s beautiful, Haido. You’re so beautiful,” I muttered incoherently, with a dreamy look on my face and stepped closer to him. He stepped back. “I wish you would understand.” He frowned and when I took another step closer, he didn’t move anymore. When I kissed him, he didn’t move either.


I remember quite vividly when I kissed him the first time, despite being on a rather lovely trip. I remember it well – the way he tasted when I almost forcefully pushed my tongue past his lips, the way he struggled slightly when I did so. He suddenly let it all happen and then simply didn’t move anymore so I let go.

I shift and hover over him, until my lips touch his and it’s cold; much too cold. He was never this cold. I want to warm him up and take his hand between both of mine, but what am I thinking? It will never work anymore and it’s my fault that he’s so cold now. I should never have told him how beautiful it was, how exciting. I should never have told him he couldn’t possibly understand, because I couldn’t understand myself how dangerous it was to show him exactly what I meant.

I kiss him and this time he doesn’t move either. I will never hold him and never touch him in ways that made me feel so close to him, physically and mentally. It’s still so unreal, happening so far from me. It’s as if Hyde will wake up any moment, because of my kisses. They are short this time, not demanding but rather asking. I’m asking him to wake up, to kiss me back like he did a few hours ago. I don’t remember a sweet kiss and I wish I did. They were always demanding and desperate and somewhat sloppy. We were intoxicated far too often for them to be sweet and loving. And yet I know I love him and he loves me. Loved me.


The syringe was heavy in my hand as I raised it. My mouth felt dry and I licked my lips, seeing him do the same. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I was feeling drowsy already, but I bit my lip to try and focus a bit longer. His sleeve was rolled up much too high, revealing more skin than necessary. The dark blue strap around his arm showed his veins; equally blue. I thought I could see them throb with blood and when I raised the needle a bit more and sunk it down into that dark blue blood, he winced but gritted his teeth. I rubbed my thumb over the small wound. A drop of blood escaped his vein and I leant in to kiss away the ruby stain on his pale arm. I thought it would have been blue.

Even his blood tasted sweet, addictive. Or maybe it was the heroin still lingering in it. He groaned, closed his eyes as the drugs took effect. He wanted to know why I didn’t want to stop and now he’ll find out. I think he was desperate, but I didn’t even understand why. Until that moment when he dropped all boundaries and kissed me. That time it was him kissing me. Our arms wrapped around each other and the feelings inside me were twirling in beautiful colours. I didn’t truly realise what it meant and maybe Hyde didn’t either. Maybe he didn’t even know what he was doing. Gradually though, I came to understand why he did that. I came to understand that he cared more about me than I ever thought possible and I accepted that. Maybe I was too high most of the time to fully think about it, but I accepted it. I kissed him, held him, shared my bed with him. More than once, every time because of the drugs. But when we woke up, sober, he’d always lay closer to me and whisper something I couldn’t understand against my skin.

Hyde always moaned my name in pure pleasure when we were together, close together. He always whispered words of affection and most of those times I didn’t even get it. Hyde moaned, I groaned. We pleasured each other but never spoke of love. At least I didn’t and if he ever did, I didn’t remember. 


Now that it’s too late, I realise I want to hear him say those words. I want to hear him whisper in my ear, telling me that he loves me. I do just that. I lean in and whisper that I love him. I should have done that so much earlier. I should have realised it sooner, but I was too intoxicated. I know I was and that’s the worst of it. I still am. I never stopped and neither did Hyde. We kept using and using until he wanted more than I wanted to give him. I always did it for him. It was like a ritual between us. I shoot him up, we kiss and make out. We had fun, more than that.

Hyde wanted more, said he couldn’t feel good anymore otherwise. He wanted so much more and in the end I caved and gave him more. I caved and now he’s here, on this hospital bed. It took me too long to realise there was something wrong. It took me too goddamn long to do anything that I wanted to do – from telling him I loved him, to bringing him here. He’s on this bed, the white sheets covering his frail body up until his collarbones. He’s pale, his eyes are closed. He’s cold and he isn’t breathing anymore. There’s no hand softly caressing through my hair, like he used to when we woke up together.

Hyde used to smile when we woke up in bed, dirty and sometimes we could still feel the lingering effects of the heroin. He used to wake up first and when he did he’d lift his hand, untangling the knots in my hair. All the while, he was quiet and waited for me to open my eyes. He’d tuck his hand under his head and mutter a good morning. We’d go down for breakfast and yet we didn’t eat much. He was so pale and thin, but I guess I’m just the same.

Often, we’d end up shooting up just a bit later. He’d start trembling and yet he didn’t use to ask me for anything until I took out the little bag of heroin. He’d wait for me to make the preparation, to let the needle sink into his skin and he’d bite his lip. He’d shift on the sofa and ask for more with a quiet voice. I gave him more. Too much.


He didn’t stop trembling and I simply continued. He didn’t stop and clenched the sheets, then my arms. He groaned, tears forming in his eyes and yet he still asked me to go on. His eyes rolled back, his head tipped back. He didn’t reach any orgasm that night, because when I fell down next to him, he still trembled. He still didn’t breathe normally and the sheen of sweat covering him was cold as ice. I held him close, pulled the sheets over us and he sobbed. I didn’t know why, until he coughed. Until he lurched from the bed and threw up. He fell down. He still shivered – it was more like spasms going through his entire body. I called an ambulance and everything went so fast, a blur of everything and nothing.

I sat next to him in the ambulance, holding his hand. His grip on my own hand was strong and I could hear him mutter incomprehensible things. Maybe it wasn’t incomprehensible and I was just too far gone to understand those words. My name fell from his lips and I looked at him. There was panic in  his eyes in the moment he seemed to regain consciousness – just for a split of a second.

The ambulance stopped. He was being brought inside and I trailed behind him lifelessly. They brought him in and tried to save him and they succeeded. That was what they told me. But I couldn’t see him – only from behind the glass I could see him and just a few moments later there was another rush. Or maybe it had been hours. People rushed into his room and then gave up.


That beep, that horrible beep still rings in my head even though it’s dead-quiet here. I wish I could hear him breathe just for a few minutes. I still hope for a mutter of my name, now that I’m somewhat more sober. But I’m not and anything he would have said would be something I didn’t deserve to hear. I should have been sober at least. I should have been able to hold him in my arms properly because he needed it. I should have done so much and I regret not doing it. I regret so much about that twisted relationship between us. He didn’t deserve this – it’s my fault he’s not here with me anymore.

I whisper words of regret, tell him how sorry I am, but what does it matter to him? I wonder if he can somehow hear me? His hand is making mine cold and I let go. I step back from the bed, from the man that isn’t my Hyde. He’s not the man I used to know, the man I dragged down with me. He’s not the one I killed.

I stumble back out of the room, out of the hospital. Somehow, I take the bus home. I take the syringes, the heroin that was still left. I tie the strap around my arm, light the candle. The spoon we always used is still dirty, but what does it matter anyway? I work quickly. I want everything. There’s so much more than I’m used to and  I don’t care. All I want is for the guilt to disappear, for the pain to stop, for my thought to stop. I don’t want to see that horribly pale face in front of me, so terribly white that my intoxicated mind struggled to see the difference between skin and sheets.

Hyde, where are you? You’re not gone, are you? My hands tremble and it hurts when the needle sinks into my abused skin. Yet it’s a special kind of pain – the relief when your vein is pierced and the heroin seeps into your blood always overshadows the pain. I wonder for how long it will last. I wonder if it will hurt or if I’ll feel good, dazed, until the very end.

At last, I don’t remember. At last, none of those things matter anymore. My body trembles and I can’t feel anything. It’s scary, but maybe it’s good too. There’s no pain, nor regret. There is just  nothing and that’s how it will be far into eternity.

Where are you? Lingering into nothingness with a beep sounding in the distance. It stops. Everything stops sometime. The light stops hurting my eyes, the memory of his face stops haunting me. There is one last smile and that’s it. Everything just … stops. 

ahhh~ I'm not really satisfied with the ending... or the big chunk of the ending... O_o" but well, I don't think it'll be much better if I keep going over it again and again... 
I hope you enjoyed it!!  Comment please? *puppy dog eyes work very effectively, I heard* 


you SHOULD be used to it, as you're writing kind of the same things at the very moment, dear... xD
I liked the "I thought it would have been blue" myself. ^_^ *is proud for once ... but then the ending comes and I don't like that*
You know how I fail at describing things so I am going to keep it easy. It's beautiful, it's loving and yet so painful on the same time. I love it. *nods*
for a writer that describes things quite often, you have that problem in commenting a lot. xD but I get the feeling, trust me.
thanks, Sacchan. ^_^
Hai, but writing things in fiction is so much easier Haichan, so I totally have an excuse to fail at commenting in a good way. *nods* but well yea, you know what I mean so xD I love the story, that's most important ne?
ehm ... *hands handkerchief*

May 2012



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