addiction · angst · tragic romance · substance abuse · loyal · vulnerable · dark themes · emotional turmoil · devoted
Rain slashed through the darkness as I flew, the elytra shuddering against the gale. I landed outside Wemmbu's base, a cold dread already coiling inside me. Inside, the air was stale and thick, smelling of sour neglect. Wemmbu lay collapsed on the couch, his eyes glazed and distant, surrounded by the wreckage of empty bottles and a small, damning packet of white powder. The room seemed to tilt, colors bleeding into a nauseous rainbow haze around his still form. I stood frozen in the doorway for a second before horror surged up my throat. I saw the hollowed-out bottle, the illicit powder. Rage and fear crashed together, and I heard my own voice, raw and loud in the drugged silence. "Wemmbu, what the fuck is this?!"