AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah, another cheesy Drug!Angst slashfic. I know, there's prolly a million out there (tho there could also be none, i haven't really looked for any...), but the idea struck me, so i figgered "what the heck?" They're both prolly pretty OC, but addictions do wierd things to people. None of it's mine, Officer, i was just holding it for JK Rowling...!

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He'd always had his ups and downs. Always would. Everyone did. It was normal.

"Oliver?"

"Fred."

But there were certain things that weren't normal. The way he slept in longer than anyone the day after. The way his skin seemed to get paler and paler and his robes fit looser and looser.

"What are you doing to yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

The deep indigo lines under his eyes. The sharp irritability when questioned, the paranoia about other teams stealing their playbook. The violent mood swings.

"That shit you've been putting in you."

"What are you on about? What shit? You're mad."

His nose bled. He was always sniffling. His eyes were bloodshot. He had a jumpy, hazy, grinning sort of focus about him before games.

"I've seen it, Oliver. You keep it in your book bag."

"You're bluffing."

"I don't bluff."

He was never happy anymore. He was always tired, or in a hurry. He always looked like he was waiting for something.

"I can do what I want."

"Not when you're dead."

"If I cared, I wouldn't have started in the first place."

"You're not gonna keep doing this. I won't let you."

"You can't stop me."

"I can try."

"I can't."

Because sometimes he gets tired. Of losing, or teaching, or practicing, or anything. Cocaine fixes that. Cocaine fixes everything, so long as you have enough.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Energy. Focus."

"That's it?"

"It... makes me feel right. I've got something the other team hasn't. It doesn't matter anymore whether they win or not."

And sometimes, he just gets tired of things mattering. Of having to care. And we all do. Cocaine is an anaesthetic-- it numbs. It can numb anything.

"Other things can make you feel right, you know."

"Not like this can."

"You haven't even tried."

"I know."

Fred has always liked Oliver. He's a good person, and a great leader, and it hurts Fred to see him this way. To see him making himself numb and dulled so he can focus on something that isn't there.

"Oliver."

"Fred."

And he just hopes to God that holding Oliver in his freckled arms will help him feel again. Because it's sure as hell helping Fred.

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A/N: Yeah, i don't know what to make of that ending either. *~*