Klaus knew he was supposed to be doing better than this; he knew he was supposed to be better now, in the wake of everything that he-- that they had all-- been through. This was supposed to be the real turn over a new leaf moment, with the literal Apocalypse narrowly avoided and the rest of the family all trying to make their own adjustments within themselves and for each other, too. But some habits are just so much harder to break than others. Some addictions are ingrained too deeply to let go of so easily.
Sobriety had brought him little to long for. Still, no one wanted to listen to him or take him seriously, and the whole gamut of emotions he managed to run from for so long decided to drop on his head like an anvil. The loss of the one person he ever truly loved at all that he'd never truly allowed himself to process or grieve came at him like a freight train. He's pretty sure a freight train might have been more kind, at this point. He just felt so empty and hollow and he wanted to fill the spaces with something familiar.
It didn't even start as a wreck to his sobriety. He needed the bars-- no, the Xanax, junkies call them bars, people who take them to keep themselves stabilized call them by their name-- to calm down. Needed it. It was necessary. He couldn't breathe.
But that single dose wasn't enough. Sure, it did its job, calmed his nerves enough it shook away the panic attack he'd been having earlier, but that was never going to be enough. He needed more so he could feel the blissful ease of every ache in his body slide away, let that hazy cotton-candy feeling fill his head and his mind wander into an empty space he could just get lost in.
Numb in body and in mind was the only thing that ever really felt right.
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branchandroot
Week 1, Day 1 | Prompt 2: 027. Numb | Klaus Hargreeves/The Umbrella Academy | 336 words
Date: 2019-03-27 03:24 am (UTC)Sobriety had brought him little to long for. Still, no one wanted to listen to him or take him seriously, and the whole gamut of emotions he managed to run from for so long decided to drop on his head like an anvil. The loss of the one person he ever truly loved at all that he'd never truly allowed himself to process or grieve came at him like a freight train. He's pretty sure a freight train might have been more kind, at this point. He just felt so empty and hollow and he wanted to fill the spaces with something familiar.
It didn't even start as a wreck to his sobriety. He needed the bars-- no, the Xanax, junkies call them bars, people who take them to keep themselves stabilized call them by their name-- to calm down. Needed it. It was necessary. He couldn't breathe.
But that single dose wasn't enough. Sure, it did its job, calmed his nerves enough it shook away the panic attack he'd been having earlier, but that was never going to be enough. He needed more so he could feel the blissful ease of every ache in his body slide away, let that hazy cotton-candy feeling fill his head and his mind wander into an empty space he could just get lost in.
Numb in body and in mind was the only thing that ever really felt right.