Three years Dean had been in that juvenile ward. three years he'd been there for his drug abuse. And now they were putting him in a halfway house with two other people. And Dean was hoping to any God that would listen to give him a couple of people that were drug addicts just like him. However, he was greatly mistaken by his hopes of what he got as his new housemates. Once he was let in the house, he found that it was two men and that they weren't addicts. One had dissociative personality disorder and one was a self-harm patient. Great! He had to watch after one insane guy and one suicidal one. Just perfect! What could be worse? He was starting to wish that he'd overdosed four years prior to that very moment when he saw the perky look on the short one's face. He was worse than a fucking cheerleader! Would it kill him to stop smiling? Because, dammit, it was so fucking annoying! Dean gave a disgusted noise at the two-tone young man and went upstairs to his room and slammed and locked the door, falling backward on the bed. His life couldn't get worse.