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Tendou watched you slowly kill yourself and, little by little, it killed him as well. Taking the light from both your eyes, making looking at the face that once brought him immense joy seem more like a chore, a thing he had to do to remind himself that you were still breathing, you were still with him.
He watched, every day, as you brought the tablet up to your lips. It was the first thing you did in the morning and the last thing you did at night, it had become a necessity. He watched as you changed, as the drug took hold and made you shapeshift to the point where he barely recognised you anymore, though to be honest, he barely recognised you even before you took the evil little pills. Your eyes were dimmer, the light that once shone brightly within them, the mirth that swam in those beautiful gems had disappeared. Your smile had all but fallen away permanently, that was what he missed the most, your smile that lit up any room you walked into, the smile that never failed to make him grin in return, the smile that made him fall in love with you. All of that was gone now.
You were a husk of what you once were, you looked like skin and bones, as though the skin that remained was hanging on for dear life, your face was puffy, your eyes swollen and red, your smile no longer looked happy but instead looked desperate, as if your body was begging for a release. He didn't want to look at you, didn't want to see you like that, his zombie partner. His practically dead partner. He wanted, needed, you to quit. Wanted you to realise what you were doing to yourself and think about it for a minute, remember what life was like before the light inside you died. And he was determined to help you realise that.
"y/n?" his voice was soft, to not scare you.
"mm? What is it gorgeous?" there was a light, airiness to your voice, that made him realise you were already on cloud nine, you were already lost.
"We need to talk about... well, everything" his voice cracked slightly with each word spoken.
"You sound so serious, Tori! That's not fun now is it?" You waved your hands around as you spoke, swinging them above your head.
He clasped your hands in his own, taking them softly and kissing the knuckles, just barely grazing the skin with his lips, afraid you might fall apart if he added too much pressure. He breathed, in, out, slowly, gathering his thoughts before finally making his approach.
"You need to stop this y/n, I can't watch you do this anymore"
"Why would I stop. It makes me happy. Do you not want me to happy, Tori?" you sounded so innocent like you truly believed the lies coming from your mouth.
"What about me? Don't I make you happy, can't you just rely on me to bring you joy? Can't I be enough" The tears had begun to fall. You were looking straight through him, your eyes glassy and almost sad, as if some part of you understood what he was saying, and it was making you sad.
"Can't you see that it's killing you? Can't you see what you're doing to yourself? You already look dead y/n"
How did it get to this? One day you were just taking it for your anxiety and the next thing he knew, you couldn't function without it, it was constantly on your mind, he was no longer your top priority anymore before he knew it.
That conversation was months ago, and here he was, months later, looking at you as you slumped against the sofa, your breath shallow and ragged, as if each inhale was causing an immense amount of pain, as if your lungs were screaming for air that was never coming.
"Baby? Look at me please!" his voice was panicked as your breathing slowed to a snail's pace. you looked up at him, eyes rolling back in your head as you fought off sleep once more.
"You look like a prince" you wheezed out softly
"I need you to take a deep breath for me, baby. Please just breath for me." the tears were blurring his vision at this point.
You heard him call the ambulance. He watched as they carted you off to the hospital. You felt the needles being put into your skin, various fluids being pumped into your bloodstream. He heard you throw up. Once. Twice. Three times. Silence.
You looked ethereal in the hospital bed, the white sheet falling over you clinging to your body in places, accentuating your limbs. Your hair spread out around your head like a halo. But the mirage was broken as soon as he looked at your face, those sunken in eyes, your lips that were tinged slightly blue, the discolouration of the skin around your eyes nose and mouth, the blotches covering your cheeks. This was all wrong. This isn't how you were supposed to look, you were supposed to be sat comfortably in his lap, laughing and making jokes, playing with his fresh buzzcut and peppering sweet kisses across his cheeks, kissing away any worries that might've been plaguing him.
He couldn't look anymore. He couldn't look at you and feel nothing but pain. It wasn't right.
He still remembered leaving the hospital that day, kissing your forehead and wishing you a speedy recovery. He told you that he loved you, even though the words had lost their meaning. You had said it back, in that small and rasping voice of yours.
He didn't know that those would be that last words to reach his ears, but he was glad he got to hear you say it one last time.
He remembered the call from the doctor. The way all feeling left his body. His legs failing beneath him as he fell. Crying out for you as many times as his voice would allow. Crying out for a person who could never respond.