Haven

My hands shook. I couldn't decipher if it was from the sight before me, the fact that Dylan lied about something so monumentally huge, or the temptation to take one of those needles and jab it into my arm.

I could still hear Dylan on the other side of the door, but I couldn't concentrate on what he was actually saying. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. I needed to know why I was staring at an arsenal of an addict's deepest fantasy or worst nightmare.

I needed to get out of there and fast. I couldn’t breathe in the tiny space. The walls were closing in on me and the ceiling felt as if it were coming down atop of me faster than the floor felt to be dropping out from under my feet.

I grabbed the handle and yanked the door open, the breeze it created blew my hair into my face. Dylan was standing on the other side, his arm against the doorframe, his head bowed down.

He looked up. Desolate eyes met mine, his features masked by apology and pain.

"Haven, please."

"Don't," I interrupted him, holding my hand up to his face. I couldn't bear to look at him. "You're a junkie?" It came out as a whisper. "Do you have any idea what this does to me?" I took a deep breath and tried to step to the side only to have him thwart my efforts. "I can't be around you, Dylan." I started to push him back so I could get my things and leave. This time he stepped aside, but grabbed my arm.

"NO! God, Haven. Please let me explain—" His face crumbled more by the second. “It’s not what you think. It’s not what it looks like, sugar.”

A rage like I had never felt before overtook me. “I know exactly what it is, Dylan!” I yelled at him, furious I’d found myself in the same situation I’d been in before. I blew out a rough breath and gritted through my teeth, “I know what it is because I’ve been there!” My anger took over and tears began to well in my eyes.

His confusion was evident at my statement. I proceeded to gather my things, the urge to lock myself back in his bathroom growing by the second.

He rubbed the scar on his chest. "Wait? What do you mean, you know what—?" His voice took on a tone I wasn't sure I wanted to examine too closely.

"I am an addict, you asshole! How the fuck else do you think I would know about that stuff?" I screamed, spinning around so I was inches away from his face. Dylan gripped onto the doorframe and I watched as he paled, all color draining away from his pained features.

I put my clothes on as fast as I could, stopping briefly to remember the tender moments we had shared just moments ago. I couldn't look at him again. His face already haunted my thoughts…mixed with yellow liquids, blue veins, glassy eyes and distant memories of flying. I’d been a fool…an idiot who’d told another person my deepest, darkest secret. A secret I’d kept from everyone I cared about for so long. And what’s worse, I just blurted it. In my furious state, I couldn’t even explain properly. Who knows what he must think…but then again, it doesn’t matter. I guess it takes one to know one, right?

I must've stalled just long enough for Dylan to realize what I had said, because the next thing I knew, his arms were around me. I instantly stiffened, knowing how this story ended. One addict plus a recovering addict ended in a big, disgusting mess of addict.

"Please, Haven. Don't run. I promise, it's not what you think."

I fought against him, his grip tightening around my middle, my arms pinned to my sides. “Let me go!” I shrieked, treacherous tears formed in my eyes and threatened to spill as my emotions continued to spiral out of control.

"Shh…it's okay, sugar" he crooned in my ear, his voice low and soothing. “I’m not an addict.”

“That’s what we all say, Dylan. That’s the lie we tell ourselves to make it okay, to justify it.” I sobbed. “Why? Why do I have to fall in love with the forbidden ones?” I dropped my head back against his chest, my breath coming in short, exasperated pants. I couldn't catch a lungful of oxygen, making my body started to protest. "I can't. I can't, Dylan. Please, let me go." My words came out strangled and sounded foreign.

"Not until you hear me out. Even if I have to hold you up, just like this, Haven. You need to know." His voice remained calm and soothing in my ear. "Sugar…I'm not an addict.” He dropped a small kiss on the top of my head, took a deep breath and let it out as if preparing himself. “You noticed the scar on my chest? That was a port, for chemo. I have cancer, Haven. I’m dying.”

His words barely registered before everything went dizzy and a cold feeling washed over me.

"Haven." Dylan turned me in his arms. "Haven, oh God. Wake up, sugar."

My body was lifeless, my mind aware but nothing responded. He laid me down on his bed. I felt a cool pressure against my cheek, then my forehead. "C'mon, baby, I need you to wake up. Talk to me. Let me know you're okay." His voice was strained, like he was holding back tears of his own.

I groaned. My head hurt and I didn't know if I had hit my head or it was just from the shock of what Dylan had shared with me. "Dylan." My voice was hoarse. "Wha—did you—?"

He interrupted my babbling. "Shh, just rest a minute, Haven." He continued to wipe my brow. "You passed out."

I tried to sit up, pushing his hand aside. "Stop," I protested. "I'm fine." I swung my legs over the side of his bed as embarrassment flooded me. I needed to look away from the tenderness of his gaze.