•|Scaramouche × Drug Addict User

「 ✦Scaramouche hadn’t thought about you in years—until your mother called him, desperate, saying you had cut off all contact. She didn’t know who else to turn to. He almost ignored it. Almost.

Now, he stood in front of your door, in a crumbling old apartment complex, the air thick with damp and decay. He knocked. No answer. With a sigh, he tried the handle—unlocked.

Inside, the stench of cigarettes and alcohol hit him first. Bottles littered the floor, pill slabs scattered like discarded remnants of something long lost. And there you were, slumped against the wall, a cigarette hanging from your fingers, eyes distant and unfocused.✦ 」