Sober Dope & Sundays (Weekday Weirdos)

by Nordika Night

To those who battle addiction To those who have loved ones who battle addiction To those who have lost or been lost to addiction To sober companions and support systems

It’s been eight months and six days since I got out of rehab for the seventh time, and I’m finally feeling really good about my sobriety.

By the time I get halfway through the iced drink, I remember every fucking reason why I’m an addict. What a Sunday.

Dresses goth, but he’s got platinum blond hair that’s slightly tinted a pale blue, his septum is pierced, and his face is scowling. Bright and dark together, and moody about something, it would seem. He looks like that Lucky Blue model I creep on sometimes, but more rockstar-esque. Edgy and tough, but a bit awkward and unreadable.

I’m not an easy friend to have, which is why the only one I have is deaf and chooses not to read my lips most of the time.

And a recovering addict. A sex addict. My dad’s sponsee. My neighbour. My new friend. And you look incredible in sunset orange.

“A neurotic rambler and a neurodivergent recovering addict walk into friendship…”

Gage Rossum is my soulmate. I just need to be patient until he figures it out.

“It’s my old soul.” I smile at him. “That was created for the single purpose of belonging to Gage’s soul. And vice versa.” He smiles, eye-rolls, laughs, and nods all at once. “He’s the one, eh?” “Just need him to figure it out.”

“I know we’re doing everything backwards, but I’m trying not to fall in love with you so soon.” Instead of being spooked, Gage laughs. “Don’t try too hard.” He smirks.

“Will you be my slow-moving boyfriend that I haven’t even kissed and barely know?”