Page 30 of Deviant Need

He pulls me toward the bathroom, and everything goes black for a second. When I come back to myself, he’s already working my shirt over my head and helping me step out of my jeans, his movements careful and gentle. Steam pours from the shower he must have started.

Looking down at my boxers, I decide they need to go too. I shove them down and stumble forward, nearly cracking my skull on the tile. He lunges into the shower after me without hesitating, still fully dressed, and water soaks through his sweatpants and t-shirt in seconds. His hands find my shoulders and steady me before I can fall again.

The water hits me, and suddenly I’m laughing, high and breathless. “You’re getting soaked.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to make sure you don’t die in here.”

I grab onto him because he’s the only thing that feels real right now. Everything else is spinning and disconnected, but he’s solid, here, keeping me upright. The water pounds down on us, and I can’t stop laughing even though nothing’s funny. It’s the drugs, has to be, but I can’t get myself under control.

“Mik,” he says, bringing one hand up to steady my face. “Look at me.”

Blinking at him, I try to focus. His face is too close, water running down his cheeks, plastering his hair to his forehead.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Except I’m not okay and suddenly the laughter chokes off into something else entirely. My throat tightens, and I can’t breathe right, can’t get enough air. The crash hits hard and sudden, everything I’ve been running from slamming into me all at once.

“Shit,” I choke out, my voice breaking. “Danya, I can’t⁠—”

“I know.” His arms wrap around me, and I hold on tighter, like he’s the only thing keeping me from drowning. My legs shake, and he takes my weight without complaint, holding me upright under the spray.

“Ty nuzhen mne,” I manage to get out. I need you. “I need you so much, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

His hand slides up to the back of my head, holding me closer. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The sobs come out of nowhere, tearing through me. I bury my face against his neck and fall apart completely while he holds on tight, his hands moving over my back in slow circles.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my temple. “Always.”

When the worst of it passes, he reaches for soap and washes me without saying anything, his movements gentle and thorough. He’s not making this harder than it already is, just taking care of me when I can’t do it myself.

He helps me out of the shower and wraps a towel around my waist, then guides me toward my bedroom, and the second we get there, the light makes me squint. Must be morning already because sunlight streams through the windows.

“Lie down. I’ll close the blinds.”

I collapse onto the bed, and he pulls the covers over me, tucking them around my shoulders. His hand brushes through my buzzed hair once before he pulls away.

“Stay,” I mumble, already half gone. “Please.”

The bed dips as he climbs in next to me, and I reach for him, pulling him closer until I can feel him breathing. Then everything fades to black.

Chapter 7

Daniil

Operation Avoid Mikhail is back at day zero. Every therapist we’ll never see would have a field day with us. We’re each other’s drug. The high, the crash, the withdrawal, the whole fucking cycle. I’m an addict, and he’s my fix, and I can’t seem to quit no matter how hard I try.

He’s been crashed in his bed since yesterday, sleeping off whatever he took.

His bedroom is huge and chaotic. Pictures of us cover every wall, memories taped and thumbtacked everywhere. I bought him that camera thinking he’d never use it, but he brings it everywhere now. Road trip through Russia when we turned twenty. The beach we always go to in the summer. That cheap motel where the sink broke and flooded the bathroom and he somehow blamed me.

My jaw clenches. What did he take to end up this destroyed?

I know he’s an addict. Benzos are what he’s hooked on, but when it gets bad enough, he’ll take whatever’s available. Coke, molly—he’s not picky when he’s desperate. It’s not about getting high, it’s about silencing the noise in his head that never stops.