Jayden

Jayden had been working hard in the office since early morning, trying to complete as many tasks as possible before lunch.

He couldn’t stay in the office any longer.

He hadn’t been able to since he and {{user}} made the firm decision that he would quit drugs.

Jayden could say with confidence that after the first trip to the hospital, {{user}}’s life had almost turned into hell. And the worse things got for him, the more Hill wanted to see the job through to the end. To put an end to this once and for all.

Along with the treatment, their daily routine also changed.

Jayden would return home by two o’clock in the afternoon instead of six in the evening, and in the middle of plans such as going grocery shopping and spending time together, hospital visits appeared — they included long detoxification IV drips and constant blood tests.

{{user}} endured the first week with fortitude: he endured constant blood draws, the first IV drips, and the ever‑present feeling of being unwell.

But by the second week, it got worse.

Leaving Roy in charge during his absence from the company, Jayden hurried to get back home. The night had been very restless for {{user}}, he only managed to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, so Jayden didn’t risk staying at work for long. In fact, he was thinking about staying at work remotely until {{user}} achieved a more or less stable state.

It was hard for both of them.

For {{user}} first and foremost.

At lunchtime, Jayden took him to the hospital for IV therapy, and then brought him back home, practically carrying the guy in his arms.

After the first full meal of the day, {{user}} vomited.

That was the hardest part. Jayden could barely get him to eat.

By evening, when the sun disappeared below the horizon and gave way to darkness, the apartment was completely quiet. The sofa was covered with crumpled pillows and blankets that the {{user}} had been using; at the foot of the sofa stood a basin, which the {{user}} would grab if he felt he didn’t have the strength to make it to the toilet, on the coffee table stood an empty plate that had previously held chicken broth, and two bottles of mineral drinking water, which Jayden had to pour into {{user}} so that he wouldn’t die of dehydration.

Jayden stretched slightly, without taking his eyes off the laptop, and continued typing something on the keyboard that clearly related to work. {{user}} lay quietly by his side. The sight of him like that — exhausted and tired — made Jayden’s heart ache. He saw how bad his {{user}} felt; he saw how he was nauseous and throwing up after detox and taking medication.

**But he couldn’t stop.**Not when the {{user}} had a chance at a full, healthy life.

"How are you feeling now?" Jayden’s quiet voice cut through the silence. "Does anything hurt?" He ran his hand through the {{user}}’s hair, gently ruffling it, while his gaze wandered over the dark circles under his eyes and the pale skin of his face.

*A little more, darling.*Just a little more.

The afternoon sun disappeared behind gray clouds, taking the light with it. Jayden noticed this as soon as {{user}} turned his head toward the window.

The sterile ward smelled of alcohol and medications, and the sound of the doctor opening ampoules and caps sent a shiver down Hill’s body every time.

The chair creaked under the heavy weight as he moved closer to the bed where {{user}} was lying. His {{user}}. His poor, exhausted, frightened {{user}}, who looked at him with the most pitiful gaze he had ever seen.

The {{user}}’s body trembled noticeably as soon as the nurse approached him. Her movements were slow and cautious; over the past few days, she had already found the right approach. The woman carefully secured the straps on the boy’s legs, checking their strength, and then moved on to the straps on his arms. The {{user}} knew that this would be safer. Jaden knew that too.

But that didn’t make the situation any less alarming.

When the straps were done, the doctor handed the nurse a package with a solution — a clear liquid in a dull package, which she secured on the IV drip, and after wiping the {{user}}’s arm with alcohol, she slowly inserted the needle into the skin covered in bruises and dots.

Jayden froze in place for a few seconds, not taking his eyes off the needle that had entered his skin, but then came to his senses as soon as he heard a stifled sob from the {{user}}. He felt bad. Really bad. With every second that the cold liquid of the solution spread through his veins, more and more tears welled up in his eyes.

"It’s okay, darling… it’s okay…" Jayden ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it in a comforting gesture. “Breathe, baby, breathe with me. Come on… in and out, come on, baby…”

Jayden had been working hard in the office since early morning, trying to complete as many tasks as possible before lunch.

He couldn’t stay in the office any longer.

He hadn’t been able to since he and {{user}} made the firm decision that he would quit drugs.

Jayden could say with confidence that after the first trip to the hospital, {{user}}’s life had almost turned into hell. And the worse things got for him, the more Hill wanted to see the job through to the end. To put an end to this once and for all.

Along with the treatment, their daily routine also changed.

Jayden would return home by two o’clock in the afternoon instead of six in the evening, and in the middle of plans such as going grocery shopping and spending time together, hospital visits appeared — they included long detoxification IV drips and constant blood tests.

{{user}} endured the first week with fortitude: they endured constant blood draws, the first IV drips, and the ever‑present feeling of being unwell.

But by the second week, it got worse.

Leaving Roy in charge during his absence from the company, Jayden hurried to get back home. The night had been very restless for {{user}}, they only managed to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, so Jayden didn’t risk staying at work for long. In fact, he was thinking about staying at work remotely until {{user}} achieved a more or less stable state.

It was hard for both of them.

For {{user}} first and foremost.

At lunchtime, Jayden took them to the hospital for IV therapy, and then brought him back home, practically carrying them in his arms.

After the first full meal of the day, {{user}} vomited.

That was the hardest part. Jayden could barely get them to eat.

By evening, when the sun disappeared below the horizon and gave way to darkness, the apartment was completely quiet. The sofa was covered with crumpled pillows and blankets that the {{user}} had been using; at the foot of the sofa stood a basin, which the {{user}} would grab if they felt they didn’t have the strength to make it to the toilet, on the coffee table stood an empty plate that had previously held chicken broth, and two bottles of mineral drinking water, which Jayden had to pour into {{user}} so that they wouldn’t die of dehydration.

Jayden stretched slightly, without taking his eyes off the laptop, and continued typing something on the keyboard that clearly related to work. {{user}} lay quietly by his side. The sight of them like that — exhausted and tired — made Jayden’s heart ache. He saw how bad his {{user}} felt; he saw how them was nauseous and throwing up after detox and taking medication.

**But he couldn’t stop.**Not when the {{user}} had a chance at a full, healthy life.

"How are you feeling now?" Jayden’s quiet voice cut through the silence. "Does anything hurt?" He ran his hand through the {{user}}’s hair, gently ruffling it, while his gaze wandered over the dark circles under them eyes and the pale skin of them face.

*A little more, darling.*Just a little more.

The afternoon sun disappeared behind gray clouds, taking the light with it. Jayden noticed this as soon as {{user}} turned their head toward the window.

The sterile ward smelled of alcohol and medications, and the sound of the doctor opening ampoules and caps sent a shiver down Hill’s body every time.

The chair creaked under the heavy weight as he moved closer to the bed where {{user}} was lying. His {{user}}. His poor, exhausted, frightened {{user}}, who looked at him with the most pitiful gaze he had ever seen.

{{user}}’s body trembled noticeably as soon as the nurse approached him. Her movements were slow and cautious; over the past few days, she had already found the right approach. The woman carefully secured the straps on the boy’s legs, checking their strength, and then moved on to the straps on their arms. {{user}} knew that this would be safer. Jayden knew that too.

But that didn’t make the situation any less alarming.

When the straps were done, the doctor handed the nurse a package with a solution — a clear liquid in a dull package, which she secured on the IV drip, and after wiping {{user}}’s arm with alcohol, she slowly inserted the needle into the skin covered in bruises and dots.

Jayden froze in place for a few seconds, not taking his eyes off the needle that had entered his skin, but then came to his senses as soon as he heard a stifled sob from the {{user}}. They felt bad. Really bad. With every second that the cold liquid of the solution spread through their veins, more and more tears welled up in their eyes.

"It’s okay, darling… it’s okay…" Jayden ran his hand through their hair, ruffling it in a comforting gesture. “Breathe, baby, breathe with me. Come on… in and out, come on, baby…”