Crappy Sanders Sides One Shots

Addict

T/W: Guilt, Heavy Angst with No Redemption, Minor and Severe Injuries, Insomnia, Nightmares, Death, Blood, Self-Hate, Addiction, Hypothermia, Fantasizing about Death and Self-Harm, Suicide.

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He had an addiction.

He had multiple, actually. It wasn't the regular addictions, though. He didn't smoke. He never tasted a drop of alcohol. Never shot up some drugs. Nothing like that. No, his addictions were far less common. They couldn't be stopped and couldn't be treated. They were the types to hide in plain sight, seemingly harmless, until one realized too late and it ate him up.

His second addiction was to the cold.

Of course, we could talk about his first addiction, but that doesn't tie in with the story right now. It'll be important later. Don't worry.

The freezing winter nights always intrigued him when he was little. He would press his face against the metallic door of the apartment he lived in to feel the cold on the other side. His parents wouldn't let him go out without multiple layers on, which was reasonable. They didn't want him to catch a cold.

But when no one was watching, he would open the door. Throughout the late hours of the night, he would sit outside, feeling the winter night nip at his skin. he would feel the wind blow into his hair, melting away all of his anxiety. He would sit there until his nose turned red. Until his fingers turned blue. He would sit there until he heard his parents coming. But until that moment, he would sit outside. He would sit outside, patiently waiting for the winter breeze to send an involuntary shiver down his spine. He would sit outside while every bone in his body screamed at him to find a source of heat. The cold became his friend. It beckoned him to come outside every chance he could. To feel that chill run down his spine again. To feel all his anxieties melt away from the freezing winter. To envelop him in a hug, protecting him from everything else in the world.

~~~~

As he grew up, he found a new friend. They stayed up with him throughout the late hours of the night, talking to him about anything and everything. They talked and talked, never losing a moment of conversation. Never sleeping. Sleep became the enemy. He didn't need it. His new friend told him so. His new friend knew everything. They knew about his situation with his parents. His new friend knew that everybody hated him. Even he didn't know that, but his new friend did. His new friend knew everything. His new friend also knew he didn't deserve sleep. It would be much better if he talked to his new friend. His new friend was always there for him. They followed each other around and soon became inseparable. Sleep would come by once in a while, but his new friend always tried to push sleep away. Whenever he did sleep, his new friend was utterly disgusted. His new friend said he shouldn't be sleeping because he didn't deserve it. Because sleep wasn't their friend. He was.

He never found the name of his new friend until he was older. They called him Insomnia. He never understood why everybody hated Insomnia. Insomnia made sure everything was done on time. Insomnia kept him company for days and weeks on end. They were always there. Insomnia was able to tell him the truth. Why assume things when you could contemplate it with Insomnia? Why wonder if everyone hated you when Insomnia could give you the answer? The real answer? Not what everyone else says. The real answer that yes, they hate you. They hate every single atom, every single strand of DNA in your disgusting self.

It was refreshing to hear the truth.

Funnily enough, his next addiction was sleep. He remembered there was a time where all he wanted to do was stay up for days. But when that becomes all you do, you sometimes long for the calming embrace that unconsciousness brings. The lack of responsibilities it brings. You don't need to do anything. Just relax. Sleep provided that. However, Sleep was also in a feud with Insomnia. They fought in a battle of Tug-of-War over him, with no clear winner in sight. Insomnia always had the upper hand, however.