Addiction The Ex You Can't Escape

Neon walked through the dimly lit streets of Yellow Shields, a sprawling metropolis in Tamania known for its glittering facades and dark underbelly. The city, with its golden skyscrapers and endless entertainment districts, was hailed as a beacon of progress. Yet beneath the polished surface, it thrived on addiction.

Here, addiction wasn’t a problem; it was a passion. The government had spun the narrative, branding everything from substance abuse to virtual reality chips as harmless indulgences. Laws declared that as long as no one else was harmed, these “passions” were permissible. Technology had advanced to the point where addictions could be hidden, their symptoms suppressed, their consequences delayed. But Neon knew better. She had seen what addiction did, how it hollowed people out, turning them into shells of their former selves.

And now, Simon was one of them.

Neon found him waiting in an abandoned subway tunnel, a place as dark and desolate as he looked. Simon, her ex-boyfriend, had always been arrogant, manipulative, and ruthlessly intelligent. Yet here he was, his blonde hair unkempt, his once sharp eyes clouded with desperation.

“Neon,” he began, his voice shaky. “I need your help.”

“You?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism. “The great Simon Shields needs help? That’s a first.”

He winced but pressed on. “I’m not joking. The chip… it’s destroying me. I can’t stop. I’ve been hooked for months, and now I...” His voice broke. “I can’t feel anything real anymore. My brain is on fire, Neon. I can’t think, I can’t stop crying, and it feels like my body enjoys it while my mind is screaming.”

Neon crossed her arms, her gaze cold. “You expect me to believe this isn’t some game? That you’re not just trying to manipulate me again?”

“I’m not,” he said, dropping to his knees. “I wouldn’t come to you if I had any other choice. You’re the only person who ever saw through me. Please… I’m begging you.”

She studied him for a long moment. This wasn’t the Simon she had fallen for, the confident, cocky man who always had an angle. This was someone broken, stripped of his armor.

“Alright,” she said at last. “I’ll help you. But understand this: if you’re lying, if you’re playing me… this is the last time.”

“I’m not lying,” he whispered. “I swear.”

Neon led Simon to a hidden rehab facility beneath the city, a place for those fighting the addictions that Yellow Shields pretended didn’t exist. The entrance was a nondescript door in an alley, but inside, it was a marvel of technology. Machines scanned patients, holographic therapists guided them through recovery, and the staff were some of the best Neon had ever seen.

“This is it,” she told him. “If you’re serious about getting better, they’ll help you. But you have to do the work. No running, no excuses.”

Simon nodded, his usual arrogance replaced with something resembling gratitude. “Thank you, Neon. For not giving up on me.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she replied. “You’ve got a long way to go.”

Later that evening, Neon joined her friends at the digital garden Mark had created. The space was stunning, filled with holographic flowers and serene landscapes that shifted and swayed like real life. Mark had designed it as a place to decompress, a sanctuary where they could escape the chaos of the world.

When Neon arrived, the others were already there. Layla and Ash were laughing about something, while Luke sat cross-legged, fiddling with a small device that projected glowing fish into the air. Mark leaned against a tree-like structure, a quiet smile on his face as he watched everyone.

Neon walked up, and their chatter stilled.

“You’re late,” Layla said, teasing. “We thought you’d ditched us for something more exciting.”

“Not exactly,” Neon replied.

Mark tilted his head. “You said you had plans. Something important?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “It was something I needed to do alone.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You’re being cryptic. What’s going on?”

Neon hesitated. She had never told them much about Simon. To them, he was just a name, a shadow from her past.

“It’s complicated,” she finally said. “I got a call earlier. From someone I used to know.”

Mark watched her carefully, his expression unreadable. “Used to know?”

“My ex,” she clarified. “Simon.”

Layla’s eyes widened. “The Simon?”

“That Simon,” Neon confirmed.

“Wait,” Ash interrupted. “Who...what, when, why, where is this Simon person?”

“Yes My ex,” she said, cutting Ash off. He’s in bad shape. Addicted to the dopamine chip.”

The mood shifted, the lightheartedness replaced with concern.

“Did you help him?” Mark asked.

“I did,” Neon replied. “I took him to rehab. The good one. Underground. He… he was a mess. Begging me for help, crying. I’ve never seen him like that before. He’s too proud, too arrogant to fake something like that. This was real.”

Mark nodded slowly. “Addiction does that to people. It breaks them. I’ve been there. You know that.”

“I know,” she said softly. “And when I saw him like that, I couldn’t help but think of you. How far you’ve come.”

Mark smiled faintly. “It’s not easy. But if Simon’s serious about getting better, he can do it.”

“I hope so,” Neon said. “Because if he doesn’t, I don’t think he’ll survive this.”

The conversation shifted after that, the tension easing as they moved on to lighter topics. But Neon couldn’t stop thinking about Simon and the city he came from. Yellow Shields thrived on addictions, dressing them up as passions, normalizing them until people forgot they were problems at all.

But addiction was never just a passion. It was a slow poison, and Simon was proof of what it could do.

Neon took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. She had done her part. Now, it was up to Simon to prove that he could rise above the city that had claimed so many others.

Mark leaned against a holographic tree in the digital garden. He glanced at Luke, who was seated nearby, fiddling with a virtual petal he’d plucked from the display.

“Well,” Mark began, breaking the silence, “now we know who Simon is.”

Luke nodded, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with a hint of concern. 

“Yeah. Never thought I’d see someone shake Neon like that. She’s tough as nails, but he…I don’t know ”

Mark let out a soft sigh. “He’s got history with her. That’s dangerous. She’s got a good heart, and people like Simon… they know how to pull strings.”

“Think she’ll be okay? Or should we start assembling an intervention squad?”

Mark chuckled lightly but quickly grew serious. “She’s strong. Stronger than she gives herself credit for. But Simon… he’s not some small problem. If he’s serious about getting better, great. But if he isn’t…”

Luke threw the glowing petal into the air, watching it dissolve. “We’ll be there,” he said simply.

Mark nodded. “Always.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Neon’s sudden, exasperated shout.

“Whaaaattt?!!! You kissed again? And Eeeveryone saw it now! Haaa!”

Mark and Luke turned to see Neon pointing at Ash and Layla, who were standing unabashedly close, their arms around each other. Ash, looking completely unfazed, shrugged.

“Yeah, well, you missed the memo,” he said. “We’re official.”

Layla gave a small wave, trying not to laugh. “Surprise?”

Neon threw her hands up. “Surprise?! You think? I was gone for one day!”

The group burst into laughter as Neon shook her head, a mix of amusement and lingering worry flickering across her face.

As the laughter quieted, Neon’s gaze drifted away, her thoughts turning back to Simon. Her smile faded slightly, and she sighed.

“I just hope he makes it,” she murmured.

Mark stepped beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll make it, Neon. You’ve done your part. The rest is on him.”

Luke added, “And if he doesn’t, you’ve got us. No matter what.”

Neon gave a small, grateful nod, the warmth of their support cutting through her lingering doubts. For now, that would have to be enough.