This is a song-fic based on the song Down Poison by 3 Doors Down.

I've dreamed bout this, sixteen days away. Now you're here, and my head lays…

16 days. Is that all? I was hoping the wedding would take longer to get here. I was hoping that it would give us time to sort out our new problems, our new doubts. Man, Scott. You should know time has never been your friend.

beside your body, pillowed under mine. You were poison, spinning round my mind.

I looked down at my to-be bride. Emma was resting comfortably on my chest. Her blond hair was a mess in my face. Though we were lying in bed, we hadn't slept together. We hadn't in a long while.

We'd done worse.

'Welcome to my world' she said. 'Do you feel alive?' she said. It's all a bad dream spinning in your lonely head.

It was Emma's concept. Telepathic Sex. We couldn't get in trouble; there'd be no proof. I used to enjoy it. Being in Emma's head I mean. It gave me that rush of feeling and desire. It made me feel like I was in heaven. Lately, though, it's been feeling like hell.

'Welcome to my world' she said, separated world, she stayed separated.

When I was in her head, everything seemed all right. What we did, what we felt, what we thought: nothing seemed out of place. But now, everything's out of place and proportion. It's insanity without a cause or cure. Am I seeing things, or is our love turning into something else?

Down poison, down poison.

I used to brag that Emma's love was like a drug: addicting and high. I still consider it a drug, but now it's slamming me down more often than it's getting me high. My addiction keeps bringing me back for more.

Body withered, body died, time to take away this life

But I owe Emma a lot. If it wasn't for her, I would've closed the school. I would've shut myself out from the world. I would've become cold and heartless out of my own stupidity. I probably would have killed myself.

Bad enough to die from one, not to mention four or five!

'But did she really save me?' I wonder. Maybe she should have let me die out of self-guilt. That way, it wouldn't have built up so much inside of me. So much, it's getting physical. A bottle of antidepressant pills hid in my underwear drawer. I keep it hidden from the people I care about.

They can't know that I'm falling apart at the seams.

'Welcome to my world' she said. 'Do you feel alive?' she said. It's all a bad dream spinning in your lonely head. 'Welcome to my world' she said, separated world, she stayed separated.

I'm their leader, their support system. If I fall apart, everything does. Is this what she saved me from? Making myself feel worse? Making myself feel as if I'm carrying the world on my shoulders? Bringing back the Apocalypse feelings all over again?

Down poison, down poison. Down.

I didn't ask to be saved.

(Down poison) You weren't there for me, I was there for you. (Down poison) You weren't there for me, I was there for you. (Down poison) You weren't there for me, I was there for you.

I want to depend on Emma when things get rough. I'm weak like that. I always need a fall back plan, something-someone-to resort to when I can't take it anymore. But lately, I find that she has other priorities. Another agenda. She always has something to do. My mind tells me that she's avoiding me. That she knows I'm falling apart. That she know that she's going to have to clean up the mess.

(Down) You weren't there for me…Never there for me!

She disappears from the face of the Earth whenever I need her. She denies it, of course. She even made us a psychic rapport, just so we could talk whenever we needed it. She's done something to it though. She didn't make it too strong. 'She didn't want it to be as strong as the one you shared with Jean' a voice in my head told me.

(Down poison) You wouldn't die for me; I've already died for you. (Down poison) You wouldn't die for me; I've already died for you. (Down poison) You wouldn't die for me; I've already died for you.

Jean. Lately, even hearing something that sounds like that name or rhymes with that name sends shivers down my spine. Emma acts like it's nothing. It's almost as if she thinks of the word like a pair of blue jeans: something to be worn out and not overly thought of. Whenever anyone mentions it, she changes the subject or leaves the room. 'She's not like Jean' the voice in my head spoke again. 'She'd never be like Jean'

(Down) You wouldn't die! You wouldn't die! You wouldn't die! No!

I stopped fooling myself in that moment. Emma loved me, I knew that. But she didn't have the love I needed. She wouldn't forgive me like Jean would. She wouldn't die for me like Jean would. She couldn't. Nobody could. I know that now.

Unfortunately, 'now' is too late. Far too late.

'Welcome to my world' she said. 'Do you feel alive?' she said. It's all a bad dream spinning in your lonely head. 'Welcome to my world' she said, separated world, she stayed separated.

I used to think that Emma was what I needed in life. That she was good for me. I once told her so. Now I know that's not true. She's not good for me.

Down poison, down poison, down poison.

She's just poison.

Down.