Disclaimer: I don't own Drake&Josh

One more night and one more mark on our nearly daily basis routine.

A schedule that includes booze, smoke and cheap chicks. Not always in that order but always the same items.

For the nth time this month he calls me late at night, usually drunk and whining about me being his soul brother and therefore reasoning why I should drive all the way from my warm bed to whatever gutter he's laid down because this is what true bros do for each other.

And for the nth time I crawl out of my bunk, half sleepily, pulling on the first pair of pants I grab over my pjs and heading to the window so I can sneak out like a criminal when I am truly the victim.

Yes, I guess I can call myself that since day one, the fateful day we met, the day I fell.

Utterly, hopelessly, miserably in love with him.

Today's special is in La Jolla. I have a particularly hard time finding the house and when I find it I'm actually surprised of what I see or don't, thereof. The neighborhood is silent, there are no cop cars around or toilet paper scattered over the trees or people flying through the windows. In fact I check my cell phone to make sure I'm at the right place.

I knock on the door afraid of bothering. A beefy looking dude opens the door and stares at me like I am bothering. "Oh, uhm, sorry to bother. I…uhm, my brother called, he…"

Beefy Dude points his head to the left where I see a couch and lying on it is a great big mess, my brother Josh Nichols. "He says he can't record his address."

I excuse myself and walk to where he is, huffing loud. "Do you know what time is it?"

"Why, hey bro." He slurs back at me grinning with that wide smile that could melt entire Alaska. I wanna disappear. "Hmm, sorry, I'll answer your question as soon as I remember where I left my mobile." He informs chuckling. If his face wasn't so pretty I'd slap him hard.

I'm about to screech some really harsh words about how much I hate him and how I'm gonna call 911 and suggest they pull a 5150 instead of helping next time he gets into trouble but just then Beefy Dude brings Josh's cell phone and helps me out with the messy pile that is my brother. I'm only thankful he didn't call the cops.

It's a long ride home with me trying to concentrate on the road while Josh destroys all the bad songs he knows at the very top of his lungs. In other times it would be head cracking funny but right now it's annoyingly sick. He then proceeds to describe the two hoes he held at the same time in Beefy Dude's hot tub and what he did with them.

At this point I turn and yell at him to shut the fuck up. It's painful enough to acknowledge he's out of my league. I just don't need to learn about the many sluts he scores every time he winks at them.

We reach home and I can only describe as adventurous the trip back to our room. He hardly walks and I nearly take him over my shoulder despite my weak frame.

I finally plop him down on his bed. He collapses back heavily pulling me together. I struggle demanding he lets go with me but this only makes him hold me closer.

"It's all good." He murmurs assuring. I want him to stop - I swear I do - but those hands on my hips, Christ! His lips are warm and amazingly tender over mine. I now fully understand why girls fall for him.

I sigh as his well trained fingers unfasten my pants tugging them off. He strips and shifts my frail body under his. And then my heart flutters in loops as I turn into one of his countless bitches.

Semi seconds of indescribable pleasure shake my body causing me to cry into the pillows. I fight the temptation to fall asleep in his beautiful young arms and wander back to my own bed instead as soon as I hear his soft snores.

I already know the next day will be like hell with him denying whatever happened between us so I put on my mask of indifference and avoid any small time we have alone.

I also know what his exact words will be. It meant nothing. I was drunk and hardly knew what we were up to. I'm into girls over guys, actually.

Yes, I know all that and many more. And I don't want to hear it. Not now. Not in a thousand billion years. So when he tries again I pretend to sleep, turning over in my bunk. "All righty." He snarls leaving the house driving Mom's car. I breathe raggedly, relieved that we're not having this conversation. The aftermath would kill me.

It's only very late at night when Megan wakes me up that I realize he hasn't called yet. "Drake," She gasps. "Something happened. Something very bad happened."

My heart races and I dread what she's about to say. "What…what happened?"

"It's Josh. He - - he's gone." Megan whispers. I'm sure I misunderstood so I ask again. "Gone? Where? Where did he…go?"

"They found Mom's car about two hours ago." She wails deeply. "He's gone, Drake. Forever."

As realization weighs in my eyes reel back in my head and I curl into a tiny ball of nothing.

Thank you.