#100: Song Preference: Habits (Stay High) by Tove Lo
Authors Note: You can find the song HERE.
Ashton: Gotta stay high all my life, to forget I’m missing you.
You took another drag from the joint pressed between your fingers. The grey smoke curled towards the crisp night air, dissipating into non-existence. You tilted your head backwards, blowing the smoke towards the lonely moon, feeling your lungs empty. You breathed in through your nose, staring blankly at the joint, wishing that it would numb your ever racing mind. You breathed out one last time before raising the tip of the joint to your lips and pulling hard. The end glowed an amber red the more you inhaled, until you felt the familiar burn run down your throat and into your lungs. The pain was gratifying, something you embraced as you coughed into the sullen night. The pain was a relief to be honest, making you higher and inflicting some sense of physicality to your broken state. When you regained composure, and your lungs no longer protested to every shard of ice cold air seeping down your airways, you leaned your head back against the brick wall and kicked out your feet. You bumped your converse clad heels against the hard concrete of your balcony, admiring how the smoke and the moonlight cast eerie longs shadows of objects that were once ordinary. The shadows were long, black, and climbing up the walls. A gust of cool fall air blew around you, lifting tendrils of hair off your shoulder and making them dance in the air. You sighed, wiping your eyes and smearing your make up. You were a mess, unable to think clearly, wishing that this high would catapult you into an abyss that would make you sleep and forget everything. The mere thought of him would drive you to unspeakable pain. The scent of his cologne still lingered on certain items in the house, his sweater still hung up in the back of the closet, his toothbrush still in the cup by your sink. The laughter still echoed in the corners of the halls, his presence was an ominous, pressing weight that made you want to scream. Was this what it felt like to lose someone you cared about? Was this what it was like to feel them out there somewhere, surely having a better time then you were. Hell, you were sitting on your balcony at two in the morning with a joint rolled between your fingers in a feeble attempt to make yourself forget that you were missing him. It was pathetic, it was neurotic, it was pity worthy, yet it felt so right. It felt right to feel the hot smoke curl in your lungs, only to be expelled out into the crying world. It felt right for your head to grow light, and for the lights to seem a bit brighter. It felt right for a mere few hours to feel light and that for once you felt okay. Because you knew in the morning it would be another struggle to get out of bed and face the fact that he could be anywhere. You could see him in the coffee shop, you could see him at the grocery store, you could see him at the corner stop before your apartment building. You would most definitely see him before you fell asleep. His face etched into your eyelids, his touch still engraved on the sheets, his voice still ringing in your ears. You missed him, you felt whole enough to admit that. And as of now, you needed to stay in a constant state of high just to forget how much you missed him. Because when Ashton left he took a bigger piece from you. He took something vital, and there was an ugly, gaping hole in its place. Something festering and rotting. It was enough to poison your entire body, its tendrils of black toxins slithering into your very bloodstream to make you feel sick to your core. The smoke did nothing to stop the infection, but it was enough to numb the sensation of the pure agony of missing him. You missed not only him, but the piece he took of you with him. “Cheers to you, you asshole.” You said to no one in particular, raising the joint to your lips and taking a drag so long that you saw black dot your vision. Maybe you hoped Ashton would hear you wherever he was, or maybe you said it to the lonely moon so it wouldn’t be so lonely. Or maybe you said it to the gaping hole left in your body, the smoke temporarily filling it as the pain dulled to a mere throb with every inhale of the venomous grey smoke coming from your only vice.
Calum: Can’t go home alone again, need someone to numb the pain.
You sat at the bar, scouting out the potential men that caught your interest. There was of course the typical ones that were dressed as if they had crawled out of the latest rap video. Or there were the ones that dressed with class and a certain flare that screamed that they had money, but were simply looking for one night to get their minds off of their nagging wife, and hectic jobs. There were the men that simply were there for a good time, to have a simple conversation that led to nothing. And then there were the predators, on the same mission that you were, to scout a lady willing to have a savage and primal night between the sheets, only to smile shyly at each other in the morning lights and leave without another word. Those were the men that you typically went for, those who treated you like a lady at the bar, and when you arrived back at their place, they treated you like a proper slut. You had this routine for what seemed like a fair amount of time, the main reason was to numb the never-ending pain. When you had these flings, and shags there was no risk for reject, there was no risk for emotional pain. It was a win-win, physical gratification with no strings attached. The perfect prescription for you painful disease. Nobody had grabbed your attention as of yet, so you stirred your drink waiting for the man of the night to approach you, or even walk through the door. You were irresistible, to be honest. You knew how to bat your eyes when needed, when to bite your lip in the most seductive manner to insinuate just what you wanted. You dressed in the most provocative way. Surely never revealing too much skin, but illuminating what you had. Drawing attention to your elegant and seductive curves, enough of a dress to show off your legs that went on for miles only to be capped off with stilettos that would pierce any mans heart. Your neckline was modest, only giving a peak at the prize, but instead revealing a neck that was surely kissable. Your blood red lips were seductive enough to make any man hard with a simple lick of your lips. Your eyes were dark and played to your eye colour; lashes long and dark enough to cast shadows on your cheekbones sharp enough to cut a finger on. Crossing your ankles you sullenly looked through the pathetic crowd of the evening. There were very few that caught your attention, but that didn’t mean a lack of attention towards you. Some men approached you, asking why such a lovely lady was sitting at a bar by herself, but none seemed the type to sate the desire burning in your lower belly. They were all too kind, you wanted someone raw and rugged, that would show you a good night, not someone who intended to ‘make love’ to you. You could do that with your own hand, you wanted someone who could make you scream endlessly and call out to the God like entity that didn’t exist in your mind. You dismissed them with the simple statement that your “boyfriend was running late, he should be here soon though.” In which you would turn your attention to your drink, allowing the potential suitor to sullenly walk back to his group of friends in the aura of rejection. As the night progressed you suddenly spotted someone who made your inner Goddess purr. He seemed to have that certain primal grace about him that made your skin crawl with desire. Standing up and smoothing your dress over your thighs you pressed your shoulders back and walked towards him, a few eyes following in your wake. “Hello,” You said to him, as you were even more taken aback by his handsome features up close. “Hello beautiful,” He growled, his voice a rumbling bass. “Why don’t I buy you a drink, and we can get to know each other,” He said, his eyes travelling hungrily over your alluring body. “If you insist,” You said biting your lip making his eyes dilate and darken. He grabbed your hand, slowly sliding his finger tip along the thin skin of your wrist. “Whats your poison?” He asked, approaching the bar. “A leg spreader please,” You said, smiling curtly. He raised an eyebrow, before grinning seductively at you. You saved that drink for someone you thought would be wild, seeing as you needed the extra alcohol. Composed of tequila, vodka, rum, and gin, this drink was surely enough to make you jump him in the parking lot. “Whats your name sweetheart?” He asked after you ordered your drinks. “(Y/N).” You said with a subtle flutter of your eyelashes. “You?” You asked as he handed you your glass. You took a sip, not even flinching as the liquid seared down your throat. “Calum,” He said, admiring your tolerance for the alcohol. “What are you looking for?” He said, taking a rather large gulp of his own drink. “Someone to numb the pain,” You said before you could stop yourself. He stared at you, before biting his lip. Before you could stop him he had ducked his head to nip at the juncture of skin between your shoulder and neck. “This kind?” He asked, his hands finding their way to your hips. “Because if so baby, I’ve got the perfect prescription.” He whispered hotly in your ear. Clearly he was the type for an eventful night, with no strings attached. Your knees went weak as he tightened his grip on your waist, feeling the effect he had on you. “Want to get out of here?” He breathed against your flushed skin. You smiled devilishly at him, picking up your drink and gulping it down. His eyebrows raised, but it didn’t faze him. “Show me who’s boss,” You whispered into his ear. A deep growl made its way up his throat, enough to send a wave of desire pulse against your skin. He tightened his grip on your hand, leading you away towards the door, surely ready to numb the pain for the night.
Luke: If anything I’m restless, Yeah, I’ve been around and I’ve seen it all
You sat across from Luke, the air so thick a knife would have trouble cutting through it. You ran a hand through your tousled hair, breathing heavily through your nose. “I don’t understand why this is such a problem,” Luke said to you, his blue eyes sullenly staring at you. You sighed, drawing your knees closer to your chest in an attempt to shield yourself from him. “I told you before anything got serious, Luke,” You said emptily, not allowing any form of emotion to seep into your words. You looked out of your window and drank in the familiar cityscape of the middle of London. It was too familiar now though, waking up one too many times to see it. Before meeting Luke you were a free soul, a person infected with wanderlust. You grew restless when you remained somewhere for too long, growing too familiar with the settings and people. So you would simply pack up, disconnect yourself and move somewhere else, starting fresh with nothing holding you back. But upon moving to London you didn’t expect to be held back by someone. Sure you met loads of people, some having a significant impact on your life, others simply being mere faces in your grand experience. But Luke, well he was different. He catapulted you into an abyss you weren’t familiar with. And as much as you wanted to get up and run away, to go see somewhere else, but you couldn’t because he was holding you back. It wasn’t like he was actually physically holding you back but it was the simplest things that made you want to stay. It was the way he would smile with his eyes when he was talking to you, or the way his quiet demeanour embraced your eccentric personality. Or maybe it was the way that he would hug you with such a protective embrace that for once in your life you felt safe and secure. Maybe all those things you admired where the things that scared you the most. The sense of security and peacefulness were things that were more foreign to you than the languages you tried to learn. You were used to feeling nomadic, and having the restless urge to get up and leave. You had seen a lot, you had met a lot of people in your adventures, but never once had you stumbled across someone who was able to evoke such feelings like Luke had. Maybe it was some sick joke the universe was playing with you two. Plaguing you with the disease of everlasting wanderlust, and the fear of settling down with someone, and then introducing Luke who has flipped your world upside down. It was a challenge, a sick joke, almost a mockery for the universe to laugh at your struggle. How many hours of sleep had you lost over the constant thought of what to do? Do you get up and leave, continue on as if nothing had happened, and enable Luke to be a mere figment in your mind. Or do you choose to stay, and give up the life you had built for yourself? The nomadic cycle, of building walls around yourself to allow your heart to remain safe, while gaining experiences from around the world. But the more you pondered the thought of how you life had taken a dramatic turn, you thought that maybe you had met Luke for a reason. You believed that encounters happened for a reason. A smile from a stranger specifically happened at that moment for some strange cosmic reason. Maybe meeting Luke was a sign that this was a new chapter in your life, and it was finally time to break the walls down. How does one begin to break down the walls that you had spent years building. Becoming so thick and strong that you wondered if it was even possible to every tear them down and feel something again? “Answer me,” Luke half growled, half moaned. “What?” You asked breaking out of your revere. “Is it me? Is it something I’ve done?” He whispered. You could tell this was difficult for him, and you weren't the only one suffering. “No Luke, it wasn’t you. I told you though, I’m fucked. I’m nomadic, I don’t stay in one place for long, I grow restless.” You said, once again pushing your hair out of your face. “Why?” He asked, staring at you with glassy eyes. “Its easier.” You said shrugging. “You can’t allow yourself to get attached to people that way, then theres no pain when you leave. You fucking ruined that,” You said more to yourself than to him. But he had somehow heard that, and let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m so sorry for breaking the poor hard girl.” He said sarcastically. “For once, stop thinking about yourself. The people you touch are the ones that are hurt. You are so charismatic. Fuck, I lay awake and wish I never met you! Because you turned my world literally around, you came in like a fucking tornado, and messed everything up. Up until you I hadn’t felt anything. I had been able to meet people, go through the motions and then leave. Just like you. But you are so raw and primal that you made me feel something. Whether its some kind of fucking romantic feeling, or maybe its just finally feeling life again, either way I hate you. I hate you for making me feel this way. I hate you for wanting to leave because for once I feel like I belong somewhere.” He yelled. Progressively his voice rose, until he was yelling at you. His breathing was heavy, his blue eyes aglow with a fierce light. You sat in silence, once again letting the early morning light brandish the room with a warm glow. “I’ve seen it all.” You whispered. “What?” He asked, his voice raw. “I’ve seen a lot Luke, I’ve seen beautiful things, and I’ve seen awful things. The world isn’t kind, Luke. It isn’t dreamlike, and picturesque like magazines and films make it out to be. Its for the hard and the unflinching.” You said, playing with the hem of your shirt. “Maybe I do need to settle down.” You whispered, feeling your heart constrict. In truth, you hadn’t seen it all. You were far from it. But maybe you needed a break before you ventured out once again to see what else the world had. Maybe this time, it was your turn to laugh at the universe. “You’re staying?” He asked, his voice apprehensive. “For now.” You mused, looking up and meeting his ocean blue eyes.
Michael: And I drank up all my money, Dazed and kinda lonely
You stared at the empty glass in front of you, the ice slowly melting just like your mood. You couldn’t will yourself to order another one, the alcohol claiming your mind in varying waves of disconnect and dizziness. It was a vicious cycle you played with yourself, maybe if you drank enough you would numb the pain that you felt, but instead of numbing it, it usually amplified it. You felt loneliness as if it was an old companion. Going out and seeing so many people together, holding hands or smiling at each other made you ill. You had that once though, you thought you had it forever to be honest. He had seemed like the one for you, and to be honest, you thought he was. He was everything you wanted in a man. Michael was handsome, he was humorous, he was witty, he was intelligent, a gentleman, he was romantic, he could be stern. He was literally everything you desired in a man, but within a few short months your world collapsed in on itself. Finding a red lace bra underneath your bed, your worst fears were confirmed when Michael told you that there was another woman. No longer were you enough for him, not emotionally or physically. He had to seek out another woman to sate is desires, but he was too much of a coward to give you up. You had called him every name in the book, staying calm but insisting that if he didn’t leave, you would kill him with your bare hands. Michael took one final look at you before walking out of your bedroom, and out of your life. It wasn’t just the breakup that had effected you, driving you into a spiral of misery, but it was the concept of being the other woman. There was someone else that he felt more comfortable with another woman, then he did with you. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if it hadn’t been close to your seven year anniversary, or maybe the pain would have been the same no matter the date. So here you were, sitting pathetically at the bar, alone, with an empty glass and a buzz far to intense for someone of your age. It was a nice relief however, from the tight hug that loneliness gave you every night, or the nice tap on the shoulder when you passed a happy couple ogling in the honeymoon faze of their relationship. At this rate though, you felt like you wouldn’t meet someone up to the calibre of your ex, because he was everything. To fuel your misery you were caught by the off sound of his laugh. You recognized it anywhere, probably because it haunted you everyday. You turned around on your seat to see the back of his head, and his hand on another woman's waist. If your night wasn’t awful enough, it was spiralling at a fast pace towards devastating. You had yet to see this woman whom your man had fallen for, and to be honest, you were unsure if you even wanted to though. So you turned around, pretending that you didn’t see him or hear him, and tried to go back to your own thoughts. Unfortunately, it proved to be incredibly difficult because you were so accustomed to hearing the rumbling in his voice, or the certain way he spoke, that your focus was constantly drawn to him. It sounded like he was standing directly behind you at this point, but you refused to turn around. It wasn’t until you saw two people lean against the bar beside you that you realized it was them, and there was no way to ignore them now. By now, loneliness had its hands wrapped tightly around your throat, forcing you to address it with every struggling breath. You looked at him from the corner of your eye and felt the constricting feeling encompass your chest. He looked even more handsome then when he was with you, and the smile on his face was clearly a result from the woman he was with. You wanted to scream and to cry, you bit back sharp hot tears, trying to will your drunk self to regain composure. Was it rude to say nothing at all, despite the history you two shared, or was it suitable to say a pleasant hello without seeming like you desperately craved to fall back into his arms. Despite when he had done to you, you still would go back to him in a heartbeat. You hated yourself for that. You hated the fact that all you wanted to do was break up with loneliness, and go back with the comfort of Michael. You knew it would be toxic, and not healthy to either of you, and that Michael had clearly moved on, making you seem like the insane one. “Oh I didn’t see you there (Y/N),” You heard Michael say. The way your name rolled off of his lips was enough to make you want to release the tears you were biting back. “Hi,” You said curtly. Michael could tell that you were upset, and that your cold demeanour was the result of what he had done, but for some reason he pushed it further. “I hope all is well with you,” He said, politely. You snorted before turning to face him. “Absolutely great thanks,” You said sarcastically. “Look-“ He began but you cut him off. “Shut up,” You said, gathering your clutch and standing up. “Go fuck your whore, and live your fucking life.” You said, turning and walking away. You knew what you said was uncalled for, and you even surprised yourself with saying those things, but you knew if you didn’t, and if he had continued to talk to you, you would have begged and grovelled for him to take you back. You were drunk, and loneliness had its tendrils of sorrow tightening around your body as you passed through couples and copious amounts of people, but despite everything, your drunken state had given you a new found confidence that you surely would not have been able to say sober. So pushing open the doors and glaring at the bouncers, you intertwined your fingers with loneliness and began your sullen walk home, remembering what it was like to have Michaels fingers between yours.
