Tony Stark's Brother | Marvel

That's Life

It has been two days.

Daniel know that he shouldn't think this, but he really misses his drugs.

He misses the rush he gets, the adrenaline and all the energy he would get. He recalls binge watching Doctor Who for three days straight. It was quite the sight. He hadn't showered, barely ate  and slept. He looked like a mad man. It was Mozzie that needed to use a sedative to make him sleep, and he slept for two days. 

Daniel had a feeling that he needed that to happen again, to be sedated. He can't just sit still. That was not his thing. He needed to do something, anything to keep him from thinking too much. 

He was in the training room, jogging on the treadmill. He was dressed in black, basketball shorts and a black tee. His skin glistened in sweat. He was barely on the thing, and he was already sweating. The work out was not the only thing that was making him sweat. It was also going through withdrawal. Daniel knows that the withdrawal symptoms become more present after two- three days since he last used. And this was day two. 

At the moment, Daniel is not in good shape. He is too skinny. That is due to the lack of sleep, eating and just taking care of himself. It really annoyed him how out of breath the was when Tony chased him. It was so stupid. He felt weak. Daniel hated feeling weak. He remembered being in shape, having some muscle on him and a good, healthy tan. Now, he looks like a ghost of who he used to be. 

He huffed and puffed, as he forced himself to run a bit longer.

It was 3 am, and he hasn't seen anyone around. The halls were empty and quiet.
Well, it used to be quiet.

Kanye's song Power, played in the background. The noise prevented him from thinking. He doesn't want to think. He likes things to be muddled and foggy. Having a clear head makes things difficult -- if that makes sense. Having his senses muffled makes him feel less. The pain is gone. All he really does is enjoy life rather than focusing on how much it sucks.

He missed her. She was the love of his life, and she is gone. Six years and he can't move on. Pathetic. Perhaps it is time to move on. Well, not think of her as often as he already does. Maybe he should try to get clean. It would make all this exercising easier. He wants to be back in shape, but at the same time he wants to use. That habit is difficult to break.

Addictions suck.

His body ached. Everything hurt, and he continued to torture himself by jogging. Masochistic fuck, he thought with a short laugh and continued to run. It began to get harder to run. His legs were crying in protest and his lungs felt tight. Daniel pressed the stopped button and the machine immediately stopped. Daniel leaned over the treadmill to catch his breath.

He wheezed, finding it difficult to breathe. He clutched his chest, wanting nothing more than to breathe properly at the moment. His heart was pounding against his chest, as if it was trying to escape his chest cavity.  Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on breathing. Panicking would make this difficult. No, he had to calm down. He is fine. There is nothing wrong. He is just being a little bitch that can't breathe. Oof, harsh. Shaking his head, knowing full well he needed to give himself tough love.

The volume of the music lowered.

"Are you okay?" He heard someone ask. He glanced behind him to see the beautiful, Russian spy. Does she always look this good?

"Now that you're here", he smirked but it looked more like a grimace. Nat arched a brow at his words before she walked further in the room. She was dressed to work out, black leggings and a sports bra. Daniel sighed at the sight of her before he pushed himself off the treadmill, leaving behind a body print of sweat on the machine. "Ew" he muttered as he began to clean the machine. He clenched his jaw as he moved through the pain.