Addict

More WK angst, enjoy and review please. (I don't own them dammit)

I'm an addict.
I'm not addicted to drugs, or alcohol, or even work. Sometimes I think it would be better if I was addicted to one of them. I'm addicted to something much worse, Schuldich. I'm addicted to the way he moves, the way he talks, the way his eyes glitter. While I'm around him I feel happy, ecstatic, I feel alive. And for a year, he was there, with me, and I was in paradise.
He was mine. To touch, to kiss, to hold, and my addiction grew, and I was happy. Soon I slept next to none and I ate rarely; I didn't need it, all I needed was him. I stayed up all night just to hear his soft breathing, and to watch the way his features softened into sleep. I drank his laughter, his life in like ambrosia.
But I knew it wouldn't last. It was a temporary buzz, a flash of light in the darkness that composed my life. And as I held him in the night, I knew that soon I would have to let him go. I could never be happy without him, but I wasn't meant to be happy I guess.
My talent did not show me, I had no time to prepare, to mourn for the loss of my beautiful precious drug. I came home one day to a simple note;
"Doll, I need to take a break."
I was devastated. I would stare out the window for hours, and wake up in the middle of the night crying. I turned to other addictions; I drank, and there were nameless women and men, sweat-covered bodies entwined in drunken love. But they were only substitutes, and soon I dissolved past the point I could stand to desecrate his memory that way.
I couldn't take it any more.
Then the vision came. I saw myself, pale and bloodstained, crying, my blood dripping down my wrists. And a voice in my head mocking me. "Where's the calm collected Oracle now huh?"
The withdrawal picked up. I cried a lot, until there were no tears left.
And then I sat on my bed. Recalling the nights when he was there, and I would press my face into the pillow, and I could smell the faint smell of him.
I was already dead inside.
And one day, I knew today was the day of my vision. And in a simple slash, I was gone, and I floated through memories of Schuldich, and love, and happiness.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
Schuldich's head hurt. He needed relief from the voices in his head. He had realized that was why he loved Brad. Brad gave him silence, the silence in his head that he needed, craved more then anything. And when he was near Brad, the voices quieted, and his pain eased.
The voices had been screaming at him the past few days.
He had thought he needed a break from Brad, a break from the boring life he had been leading with Brad, but now he realized Brad was what was keeping him sane. Like a rock. Brad was always there, calm and collected.
So when the voices got to him, he did the only thing he knew would make the voices stop, he went back to Brad.
He managed to stumble back to the house. The door was open, which gave him a slight pause, Brad would never leave the door open.
His head momentarily cleared and he quickly almost ran up the stairs. The house was extremely quiet, but that was normally.
When he got the bedroom he was shocked. The floor was littered with empty and half empty bottles, the bed was rumpled. He wondered if he should have stayed with Brad. But Brad was strong; he probably just forgot to clean up after a party or something. Schuldich failed to remember Brad had never thrown a party, ever.
As he opened the door he just stared for a second at the bloody floor, and then his gaze was caught by the slumped body of Brad.
"Brad?"
~Finis
Hrrrm! Is he dead? *laughs evilly* you can decide! R+R! If I get enough reviews who want him dead or not dead I'll write one or both of those up.