Author's Note:

I lied. Lol. I'm still going to be updating this 'controversial' fanfic.

I'm a little rusty in the writing department. Just a warning 🤪

Oh, and here's a ~lovely~ photo of the one and only, Demri Parrott.  R.I.P

(Seriously though.  I love this photo 😍)

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The Past, September of 1996

His head was hung low as he slowly made his way through the hospital hallways. It was dead silent within these white walls, aside from the beeps that echoed from patients' heart monitors as he'd pass their rooms.

Those big, blue eyes stayed focused on the tiled floor, the dull tapping of his shoes ringing in his ears. It seemed to keep him calm—just focusing on the floor, watching his foot steps. And when he closed his eyes, he kept envisioning that, instead of walking down a hospital hall, he was walking down the street towards Demri's old apartment. He was walking there to simply just hang out, crack jokes, possibly even create art together like they used to.

Their relationship seemed to have calmed ever since they separated. It hurt Layne's heart that they had to break up just to develop SOME sort of connection again. It was still unhealthy, of course, but at least this way they weren't bringing one another down anymore.

Layne stopped in his tracks when he finally reached her room. Before opening the door, he breathed in a deep breath and braced himself. Still, his eyes gleamed with tears as soon as he entered it and looked at her.

No one was there. He noticed that there were new gifts placed on her window sill. Her parents and old friends usually came during the morning or late afternoon to visit. Usually he didn't mind going in there with them, but this time around he came over a little later.  He wanted to see her alone...

A shaky, gloved hand quietly pulled a seat up next to Demri's bed. He had to force himself to look at her.

She was still beautiful despite how sick she was. Her hair seemed to have the life that it always had. It was thick and dark and was elegantly draped over her thin shoulders.  She would've looked relatively normal if it wasn't for the IVs attached to her and nasal cannula placed in her nostrils.

Gently, he slid over to hold her hand. A small smile grew on his face when those deep brown eyes finally opened.

"Layne," she slurred out, her voice quiet and weak.

Nothing was said for a moment.

He had to look away again. His heart sunk in his chest when he heard the breathing machine pump. The noise wheezed out as she took slow, shallow breaths.

It was one of the many things that was keeping her alive...

"I see you got more flowers," Layne commented, trying to distract himself from thinking too deeply about this morbid situation. He nodded towards the bouquet beside her, biting his lip.

"My mom brought them over this morning. The other ones..." she paused for a moment, glancing down at her IV. "...died..."

He couldn't fight it anymore. Tears rolled down his cheeks. When he let go of her hand to attempt to wipe them, Demri stopped him by pulling his hand back towards her.

Finally, their eyes met. And when they did, they both started crying.

"What happened to us?" Layne whimpered. "We used to be so happy. We used to be able to talk about anything and everything... We were always there for one another..."

Demri let go of his hand to try and reach over to the table beside her and grab the tissue box. He took notice immediately and pulled out a few of them, dabbing the tears from her face. She had to take a moment to collect herself and catch her breath.

"It doesn't matter what happened," she finally said. She forced a smirk when she caught the confusion wrinkle in his thick brow. "It's all water under the bridge... It's in the past, it's history... We have to focus on now. There's no point in asking what or why."

Layne grabbed himself a tissue, fighting back a sob. "Would you have even given us another chance if we had that opportunity?"

Her sunken, sickly eyes teared up all over again. "Of course I would. You know I loved you... I still love you."

"I love you too," he whispered. "More than anything. I just wish there was something I could've done—"

"There was nothing anyone could have done, Layne," she interrupted him.

He wanted to say more. He wanted to apologize to her for introducing the needle to her. He wanted to apologize for not stopping her when she started fooling around with the junk. He wanted to apologize for everything, but instead he broke down in weak, shrill sobs.

"I'm so sorry," she wheezed.

Layne shook his head. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I should be apologizing—"

"I'm so sorry for how I treated you," she went on. "I shouldn't have said some of the things I said. And I shouldn't have lied to you like I had..."

"I wasn't a saint either," Layne argued.

Demri just laid there for a moment, having to close her eyes. Her eyebrows creased with grief. "Heroin really fucked us up, huh?"

A grimace stretched across his thin, pale face. Thoughts stirred in his mind. All of them were memories of all of the horrible things they had done to themselves. Flashes of images of all of the track marks they had to hide, and the ones he currently had to hide.

"I wanted so much more for you," he stated bluntly.

"I wanted more for you, too, Layne."

His expression softened as he analyzed the angles of her face. He couldn't help himself but to move closer to her so he could run his fingers through her hair. Gently, he stroked the side of her cheek before placing a soft kiss on it.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Layne asked.

Demri smiled. "You were so shy at first. I could barely get a word out of you."

"Until we went off on our own," Layne reminded her.  "You finally clocked off work so we could actually talk."

"Only because Mike kept hitting on me. He was stealing your thunder."

Layne laughed at that. "Yeah... Yeah, he was on a roll that night..."

"It's funny...  We were walking down the street, just talking about simple things like work and what we liked and it somehow progressed into a deep conversation about life..."  Her smile grew wider as she reminisced.  "About how almost everyone seems to be rushing through their lives to find contentment.  They rush and work themselves to death and then wonder why, after all they've done to try and reach happiness, they're still miserable."

"It's because they never stop and appreciate what they already have," Layne answered, winking at her.  "I remember you saying that..."

"It's the simple things in life that brings genuine joy...  Not money or what you do for a living.  It isn't that easy.  It's about your outlook on life itself and whether you actually appreciate it or not," she went on.

Layne held her hand again and squeezed.  "After that crazy weird conversation, I knew we'd see each other again..."

She nodded her head.  "We sure did.  I was shocked that when I allowed you to come inside my apartment that you didn't come onto me."

"I wanted to see your art," he said with a shrug.

They went silent again.  Layne couldn't keep his eyes off of her.  For the first time in years, he finally felt like they were back to how they used to be.  Before this monster called addiction took control of their lives.  It destroyed their own belief system and morals—their old passions and interests.  This ugly disease ultimately killed who they truly were and, in turn, they morphed into drug fiending junkies that were tortured with this burning need to find that quick fix.

To rush to that instant feeling of happiness.

Which never seemed to work and always left them both miserable and wondering why it wasn't working.  And asking why they couldn't stop despite knowing that.

Layne's eyes focused on the IVs prodded in her arms.  The breathing mask and tube planted on her face and the breathing machine behind her.  He glanced back at the heart monitor.  Tears came streaming out of him again when he met her gaze once again.

"I'm going to miss you so much," he wheezed out, sobbing all over again.  His head fell into his hands.

"What makes you think I'm actually leaving?" She asked.  She smirked a little when Layne lifted his head back to look at her.  "I'll still be here.  Maybe not in the flesh...  But I'll still be here."

He couldn't seem to form any words after that statement.

Nothing else was said. 

Layne had got up to hold her.  He didn't know whether this would be the last time seeing her.  He tried his best not to think about it.  Heck, it seemed like they both were trying their best to avoid the thought of her dying.

But it seemed as though Demri had made peace with death.  She accepted it and decided to stop fighting the process and allow it to happen.

There was no point in asking why it had to happen to her.  And there was no point in wondering what would've happened to her if she didn't go down the path she did.  It wouldn't change anything, aside from bringing up negative emotions.

Why be sad about it?  It's inevitable.  She chose to remember the good times and live in that moment.  She chose to enjoy the time she had left with the people she loved and who loved her in return.

She had learned, finally, to stop rushing.  To stop relying on that quick fix.

And to appreciate what she already had.