ཾ. ·˚ ༘ 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 . ➶°⁂ 🎸
𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 -ˋˏ 𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑓𝑖𝑘𝑒 ˎˊ-

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚢𝚘𝚞.

ཾ. ·˚ ༘  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗 . ➶°⁂•*
≫·˚ ༘ ────── ☽ * ➶🎸°⁂ ˚ ☾ ────── ·˚ ༘ ≪

                                 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘦 16, 2024 9:20𝘱𝘮
𝖎𝖓𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍 𝗐𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋
𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌.

𝕳IS INTENTION WASN'T to fuck all this up. to
fuck all he'd been working for up. he didn't want to do it on purpose. he didn't want to put himself in a position where his angel would get scared and drop everything she was doing to go see him. wasn't what he was meant to do.

hypothetically speaking, you could say it's what angels were for. but she shouldn't have to do that. have to burden herself with what he had going on.

he didn't want to feel dependent on her either. but he was already in his fucking head, had been for a couple months now.

wondering about the future, what people were demanding from him, the multiple shows and festivals he had lined up, the fact that the label weren't too happy with what he'd recently released. suffocating him, crushing his creativity into this digestible ball to mass produce and throw out at the anticipating consumers.

then, the thought of suminar jetting off to paris blurred his vision. she was now going to be too far for him to hold her. working far apart felt torturous enough at times but now she was going away away.

it was so selfish of him. so fucking selfish. she had a life before she met him; it was her life he envied. now, his brain wanted her around him all the time, just them. it wasn't fair. and he hated he wasn't being fair. and he hated all the other parts of him that convinced himself it was fair.

he hated himself.

so, he wanted to forget himself.

it was late at night when he bought it. two small plastic bags — one filled with powder, the other pills. he did it alone, disguising him leaving as him just wanting to have a look around tennessee.

as he sat on the ottoman in his hotel room, filing the powder into white lines with his key card and rolling the crisp fifty dollar bill from his wallet... he suddenly felt a shoot of nostalgia. negative nostalgia. painful nostalgia.

the quicker it was in his system, the quicker the feeling would pass.

he was up all night on coke he forgot that he had to mentally, physically and vocally prepare himself for the reason why he was here — the festival. the light was uncomfortably bright when he woke up, and his head was incompetent and unclear.

he popped a xan to try and mellow out the feeling. the side effect of that being he was just sluggish, standoffish, dickish. that and he was a little down. they aren't called downers for nothing, he thought to himself as he sat up in his messy room.

"listen, bro," max says to dominic as he'd barged into his room after knocking frantically. the first thing he does is open the curtains fully, causing him to cover his face with his hand to hide from the light. almost like the sun was shaming him.

"the fact that we had to cancel the show? the label isn't gonna fuck with that. i can only hope to God you can recover quickly in time for the third day atleast," max contests but dominic's mind is stuck on something.

"w-what's the time?"

"eight-thirty."

holy fuck. "well why is it so bright outside?"

"it's summer, dom. i- listen, you won't talk to me about what's going on, you won't talk to jane, jess told me you haven't called her back, haven't called alex back..."

the trailing off of his words only makes dominic meets max's eyes with widened ones. he definitely didn't want him to say what he was thinking of. he could pop three more pills just because of it. then he thought about how he would look. but that would only matter if max says what he says.

"i called her. a little while ago. she's on her way down here."

his heart rate was slow at the moment, because of the drugs.  now that he was about to have a potential panic attack at the thought of suminar seeing him like this, however, the shit went straight up again.

as did his breathing. he masks it, running his hands through his hair and letting out a low, sarcastic chuckle.
"you are such a fuckin' idiot, max," he spits, grabbing the first thing he could see and throwing it against the wall.

"i'm an idiot? i'm an idiot right now, really? okay, thankyou."

"thinking that her walking through this door is gonna do anything except—" he stops his speech suddenly, getting a slight glimpse of possibility. possibility that he's not willing to accept nor face. his brain so desperately tries to stop his eyes from welling up but it doesn't work.

he says nothing, and pushes past him to go to the bathroom. locking himself in it, he does everything he can to calm down. splashes water on his face, slaps himself, breaks something else by throwing it on the ground.

the only thing he can think of is one more, one more, one more. the pills are in his back pocket, and he takes out the bag to get one of them. he frantically looks for something big enough to crush them down. swerving every possible object out of the way, eyes scanning over every corner of the sink.

until he hears a voice.

"dom?"

it was almost as if, he was dying. on his last legs and that was the voice that pulled his body of purgatory. he never gave her the nickname angel for no reason. it was random when he started to say it, but he meant every word of it. she was something there to save. not just him, other people too. her being loved by so many people across the world proved that.

he couldn't not face her. as much as his stubbornness held him by the neck. for once, he pried the hand off and moved it out the way so he could open the door before she called a second time.

she was standing on the opposite side of the bed when he opened the door, purse being held by her two hands and her stance not being as confident as it normally is.

she looked beautiful. otherworldly, even. her hair was in finger waves, which he thought was very hot. all a short hairstyle did was frame her face. anything would look good on her anyway. she wore a shirt, red hot chili peppers. his shirt, that she took back with her from her florida visit and some sweatpants. she stood facing the windows, so all the sun was doing was reminding him how beautiful she really was.

how he had just ruined it for himself by fucking up like this. how the way she sees him is now tainted.

"i can't believe max fuckin' did this shit," he scoffs, running a hand through his hair before picking up a shirt that was on the floor to put on, "i'm not- i'm not looking to get chewed out. if that's what they brought you down here for. i've heard the same shit five times."

he suddenly couldn't stop moving around, with jittery and excited hands. watching him for a moment, she's stood still.

"i'm not... here to do that. max invited me in, i- i wanted to see you!" she exclaims. pretty awkwardly too. maybe he was repulsed by her, thought him weird.

"you didn't drive this long just to see me, sumi'. not when you've got your own shit. i promise you i don't need an intervention."

"well, do you want me to go?"

that's when he stopped moving. looking up from what he was holding to lock eyes with her. the shit-eating look on her face wasn't what she was supposed to have, he could tell. but he was talking to her like she was insignificant in his life. which they both knew wasn't the case.

but she wasn't moving? she wasn't fighting back? she wasn't walking away? what's wrong with her? is he not scaring her?

"i definitely don't want you seeing me like this," he mumbles quietly.

more silence was shared between the two of them, and if she looked at him any longer, or said a single word, he'd cry her eyes out. he watches her as she turns around, she sits on the edge of the bed. looking at the back of her body, hearing completely nothing made him feel so stupid. stupid for letting him see her like this, stupid for making her feel like she was nothing but a crutch and stupid for doing all this by existing.

"you know it- uh- it fucks me up knowing you think like this, right? thinking you would ever have to change yourself or be someone else to face me?" her voice was choked up a little bit, words being trembled and danced around before actually being said.

there's no immediate response, only some shuffling. he sits down himself, staring at the sun as he braces himself to talk back to her. there'd be much more pressure to talk if there wasn't a slight dizziness to his head at the minute.

he didn't think those words were possible to hear, especially from the most perfect person alive. all what she considered flaws, he considered human traits. he just was so fearful of scaring her away from what flaws he had. especially because some were so unpredictable. hence...

"i'm supposed- i'm supposed to be your man. someone who protects you," he stammers, "not someone who- embarrasses you... or- or can't even protect you properly 'cause he's too fuckin' worried about his own shit."

"everyone has their own shit, baby."

"and all i wanna do is forget mine," he says back fairly quickly. he pauses for a moment before continuing, "it's not like i have no intention of being sober. i do. i just... hate feeling like this all the time. i hate not being what i'm supposed to, what people want. hate being myself..."

he didn't even realise he was crying until the tiny thud of the teardrop hitting his belt is sounded. feeling even stupider for crying instead of being the man he so dreamed of wanting to be for her.

he hears a deep sigh come from behind him, as well as sniffling. she was crying too? she still hadn't run.

"i wouldn't say i love you back if i didn't mean it. i mean, fuck, dom i always thought i wasn't good enough for you. i thought that i wasn't deserving of love, especially from such a good person," she explains and he falls deeper into the cesspool of her love.

"i'm not a good person. i don't- i don't know if i am. i'm not the musician my label wanted, i'm not- i'm not the friend i'm supposed to be, i'm not the son i'm supposed to be. look at me, i'm even fucking up the boyfriend shit—"

"you always- you always talk about the same thing. seeing me the way you do, others do," she interrupts him. her tone in voice had suddenly changed; she suddenly sounded more determined. "why can't you see yourself the way i see you?"

"sumi', i—"

"seriously, dom."

she turns her body around, and looks to him. he quickly turns his head to watch her movements, in complete awe as she faces him fully. faces him as he was probably at his lowest point.

"i know- i know it's not an easy battle... but i'm yours. i chose you," she emphasises, cupping his cheek, "why would i ever judge you? ever?"

his vision goes blurry again, blurry with tears. they fall down his face with no restraint, and he can finally make out after blinking harshly that she was crying too. she shared his pain. just like he shared hers. she didn't run, she didn't fight, she didn't turn away. she faced him. she look at him straight in the eyes.

"i don't- don't deserve you..." he whispers, stuttering profusely. his head drops but she makes it pick up again by bringing it up with a little force.

"you're the love of my life, okay? not to get all corny but you are," she cups his other cheek with her free hand, "and this is not a business transaction. you don't owe me anything except your trust. trust in me, i trust in you. trust in me to carry that pain, just like you've been carrying mine."

maybe the fact that she was in naples didn't matter. because the sun shone brighter on her again. it was just her. it was just suminar. God was showing her off again, showing off how He made a heart so utterly pure. a heart he would never be able to convince himself he was worthy of holding in his hands per her request.

"i love you so much. you don't even know how much i love you," he cries into her arms, his eyes squeezing shut. a kiss is placed atop his head, followed by two more.

she doesn't even have to say it back. the fact that he was in her arms right now told him everything he needed.

𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐒𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐌𝐏, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐘 "𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇?"
i know that it seems like it's out of nowhere
but this can genuinely be how it is dealing
with someone who has an addiction. mental
health is never an easy journey and for some
people, substance abuse is a way of coping.
i feel like it's important that stories like this
are told, because society often makes jokes
out of such people or avoids talking abt them,
similar to how mental health was taboo. while
these are harsh topics, they should not be
sensitive to the ear! to talk about it, to write
about it, to showcase it is bringing awareness
to it.

i really do not have shit else
to say but i love you guys and
thank you for sticking around
for all this while ❤️ means the
world. take good good care of
yourselves and the ones around
you