fingers tightly held onto the bottle of pills, he frowns at them . . . ‛ these aren’t good for you. ’ cap being twisted off, whatever is left of the pills are being poured into the trashcan – before the bottle itself was dropped.Â
                        ‛ you really can do without these, y’kno? ’
  but obviously, that’s easier said than done. he feels bad for mello, having to depend on that stuff just to get him through the night. he can’t blame him, and he doesn’t. ‛ listen, i’ll…help you get away from this stuff, alright? ’
   —he switches the only light radiating the room off. ‛ .. …we’ll do it together.. . ’ finally –joining them in bed; he takes his place right on the side of mello – arms being wrapped around him and chin resting on their head. ‛ ..okay, …mello? ’
   he neglected himself for years, setting his goal as a priority before every emotional problem he had to drown in pills due to the experiences he chose to live ever since he left the orphanage behind. the thought of not depending on that self prescribed medication felt far from reality for a long time now.
    therefore, he doubted he could just forget about what he's been depending on for many things since he was young --- and if he tried, the withdrawals would probably be horrible, adding to how emotionally exhausted he was.Â
   "  .  .  .  " his reply is a single nod, closing his eyes slowly as he waited to fall asleep - which could take longer than what the box said, due to the overuse.
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