Work Text:
When Zhengting first started, he did not count on getting addicted. He thought addicts were weak, had no self control, and he believed that he was better than that. He told himself that he’d only try it once, just for the experience, the been there done that. Just once, and never again. Except once turned into twice, and twice turned into thrice, and thrice became a habit, an addiction. He really didn’t think it was going to happen, but he doesn’t regret anything, much.
Sometimes though, he is determined to end it once and for all. And he does succeed, always does for a while. But days pass by and his body craves it, needs it, itches for it, and he gives in again. In the end, he always crawls back to the familiar comfort it offers, the way it calms him down and gives him peace of mind. Which is why he always finds himself kneeling in front of his sink again, knees digging into the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, left hand gripping onto the faucet and right hand dragging a blade across the scarred skin of his inner arm, taking away flakes of skin and leaving behind blood red lines.