My Demons Are The Wind

By Breech Loader

Breech: Everybody's got problems, and being incredibly rich comes with a special brand of difficulties. Fred has problems. They're not problems he can't fight, but when you're having a rough time, there's nothing you need more than the support of your friends. And sometimes it's supporting one person that might just bring everybody together.

Anyway, there's quite a bit of drug abuse involved in this story, and some serious near-death brushes, and sexual stuff. The Honeyzilla stuff comes second to the general tension but it's still pretty clear I ship it.

This story is in present tense, and it starts when the guys are just a few weeks into SFIT - everybody's 16-17 at the beginning.

I don't own the cover image, it's by somebody called CosmoAnimato on Pintrest. I make no money from the image, and i'm making no money from this story, and I don't own Big Hero 6 etc or Fred wouldn't have been interrupted in that scene.

Chapter One: Walk Into The Wind

If there is one thing Frederick Lee hates, it's being rich.

Sure, his father has explained many times, and Fred gets it, he totally gets it, that being rich means he doesn't need to worry about bills, or food, or whether he'll have a bed to sleep in tomorrow. That he couldn't have his huge collections without money.

But as the smoke rises up around him, it reminds him of all the bad things about being rich.

Like having rich friends.

They're all out for a night on the town and he's been invited too because they always call him and say he's a fun guy to hang with. His parents are friends with their parents, or at least his dad pretends he likes them but Fred's seen the look on his dad's face when he talks over the phone.

Nights on the town happen about once a week now. They start by going to big, flashy clubs and drinking way too much to thin out the lightweights, and then they'll settle down in one final club and break out the real shit. When it's all the guys, sometimes somebody will hire a hooker. Fred hates that too. You should treat girls with dignity. Even hookers.

A blunt is passed to him and he takes a deep drag, part of him wondering what idiot first thought of rolling dry leaves into paper and lighting it on fire, and what kind of maniac would think it was fun, the other part just trying to relax and tune out all his 'friends'.

It's not so bad when they do it outside, in the fresh air, where the wind blows some of the smoke away and Fred can look up at the stars, but tonight there's a storm, and he's got no excuses.

"Okay guys," Benny steps back in the room. He has a few little packets with him. Fred knows it's Crack Cocaine, because when it's Benny's turn to get the shit, it's always Crack. Hopefully by the time the line comes around to him, the other guys will be too busy being high or throwing up or making out to notice that he keeps passing. The thick smoke in the air is bad enough for him.

"I think…" somebody pipes up as they light the bowl and somebody else chops the lines, "I think tonight, Fred should start."

Fred looks up sharply – well, sharply for having been smoking pot half the night.

"Yeah," somebody else adds slyly, "You never get to go first, Fred."

Fred tries to think of an excuse, and his cloudy mind fails him, so he leans forward and snorts up a line, like he's watched the others do, and then takes a drag from the pipe and tries to exhale as much as possible. He rests his head on the back of the couch, making an attempt to convince himself how cool he must look to anybody with an IQ under 70 and how awesome his rich, crackhead friends are, coughing slightly.

Then comes the first high.

It's about two hours later, and Fred has managed to pass the pipe every other turn now. He feels sick with the combo of booze, pot and crack, and his head spins like a merry-go-round.

He can hear Benny being sick in the corner, which is new because Benny is usually the best at holding his Crack of any of them.

He pokes Tina, who is holding a needle and staring at the ceiling, "Hey, wanna go and hold Benny's hair out of his face?" he drawls. But she doesn't move, and he pokes her again, "Uh, Tina?"

Her head lolls towards him. Her face is white to the point of grey, and there is vomit on her blouse. Fred tries to panic, and fails.

"Uh, guys? I think something's wrong with Tina…"

A couple of them try to lift their heads. It occurs to Fred that something's wrong with all of them. Behind the stained couch, Benny is being sick again, "Fred…" he coughs, "Fred, thank God… I think… I think something was up with that Crack… You gotta do something…"

Fred's not so sure "Benny… I don't feel too good…" Fred staggers to his feet and looks down at him. Benny is doubled over, clutching his chest and his stomach.

"Fred… you gotta get someone," Benny gasps, his breathing all wrong, "You can stand… you can… think… you gotta… gotta do something…"

He's not sure how long it takes him to get to the door, but the thought's in his head, I gotta do something… He's only a few steps down the road before he's sick too, his head spinning, I gotta find somebody…

He staggers back to his feet. It's pouring with rain. He didn't think to grab his jacket, and his clothes are soaked through in a matter of minutes. It soaks his beanie and sticks his hair down to his face. The wind is so strong that it could knock him flat on his back as easily as the drugs.

He hunches over, hugging at himself as if that would make the slightest difference because he's already soaked through and freezing cold. There's hardly anybody about; why would anybody be out in this weather? A couple of people pass him and he tries to grab them, to beg for help, but they pull away and just run…

He's not sure where he is when he gives up and just falls to his knees in a puddle, drenched and feeling as if the wind itself is screaming at him about how completely pathetic and weak he is right now. It's hard to believe he's even human. Nobody is going to help him. They're all going to die.

He's not sure, but he may actually be crying.

Somebody else is hurrying past, and he grabs out in despair.

"Oh! Don't hurt me!" a girl's voice squeals.

"Please…" he begs, "I think… I think I did somethin' stupid…" He drops her ankle and he's sick again, this time on her shoes.

"Ew!"

"Oh shit… sorry… please…" He's soaked from head to foot and he must stink of drugs and there's vomit on his shirt and he must look like a goddamn hobo… He coughs a few times, "Please help me…"

She hesitates, then offers him a hand, "Okay… I'll help. Come on, I'm taking you to my friends and we'll help. I think you need the hospital…"

"No… no, I'm fine…" he knows he isn't but… "My friends… I think they… I think they're in trouble."

"You're not fine at all… oh, you smell weird!" he leans on her, panting as she holds her umbrella over them both. He can hardly stand, "My name's Mariana, what's yours?"

"Fr-Fred…" he looks at her. She looks a bit like Tina, without the boob implants and he knows Tina's had a nose-job. So really, Mariana is a lot prettier than Tina, "And I think I did somethin' stupid…" he tells her again.

They stagger on a bit more, and he's thinking about how his friends are sick back at the club but he's just too busy trying to put one foot in front of the next. Shivering under the cover of the umbrella, he eventually realises that he's crying, "Marie… My friends are in trouble…"

"Don't worry Fred, we'll figure out what to do."

He's not sure of the passage of time, but finally he's sitting down and there's other people in the well-lit room, but he's not at the hospital.

"Mariana, he's obviously a junkie!" a young man is saying, "You can't just bring him in here! There's gotta be some kind of rule about it!"

"Well what was I supposed to do? Just leave him there? He was begging me for help!"

Fred is sobbing now. In-between the clouds of smog that are fogging up his brain, he can feel these people looking at him. He can't imagine how they must see him. Also, there's a new pain rising up fast, howling for attention. He raises one hand to his forehead, but it's not there, it's inside, "Uh…"

"Fred?" Mariana rushes over to Fred and tries to look in his eyes.

"It… it's in my head…" he manages to speak. It's rising up fast, and the word 'hurts' is suddenly unfit for purpose because it's more like a needle, a singularity, a flatline of sheer indescribable pain. He's breathing hard and slides off the chair onto his knees. His nails dig into the lino floor and he's scared… more scared than any time before. She puts a cool hand on his forehead, to find he's sweating.

"Guys, he's burning up…"

"I'm gonna die…" he can't even move, because it hurts that bad. It feels like he's splitting into two people and if they could only get back together, then it would stop hurting. And then, wet as he already is, he's pretty sure he's just pissed himself, although all things are a secondary concern to the terrifying feeling that he's going to die. He baulks, then vomits bile onto the clean tiles, "I'm gonna… I don't wanna…"

"Tadashi, isn't that robotic doctor you're working on ready yet?" a different woman asks, "This is as good a time as any for a field test…"

"It's not ready, Tamago, that's the problem. I've only a few weeks in! Listen Marie, you're right, we gotta call the hospital."

Fred looks up, "No, I'm fine, it's my friends, they're in trouble, they-" he breaks off and throws up again, and after a few more seconds of gagging, it occurs to him that Mariana is actually holding his hair back out of his face. "Oh god… Oh god…" his stomach gives another lurch, and there's nothing left to throw up but bile, but his stomach keeps twisting and he keeps on throwing up and his head is screaming in pain…

Or is that just him?

His head is swimming, he's exhausted, and the last thing he remembers from this horrible night is collapsing into a puddle of his own puke…

The next time Fred opens his eyes, he's in a hospital bed. He's clean. He doesn't smell of pot or booze or vomit. There's nobody around, but there's a cup of tea on a table, so somebody was here…

"Uh…"

The next thing he knows, there's a bunch of doctors around him. He's trying to answer their questions but mostly… it's still tough to think. Finally he blurts out, "What happened?"

The doctor settles down a little, "You were brought in by some friends after you suffered a seizure and severe vomiting from a drug binge. You've been comatose for two weeks."

The clouds are lifting but still… "My dad…"

"Don't worry, your details were in your wallet. Your parents already know, Fred. They're here."

"I guess… that's what I'm worried about…" he thinks hard for a few seconds, because he's tired and it's tough to focus, "What about the others? My… my friends?"

"Your friends are fine. They've been visiting and calling you daily to check on your improvements."

"Oh, thank god…"

His head falls back. They're alive. The guys who helped him also managed to help them and now everything will be just fine. They'll learn a lesson and nobody will have to do any of that shit ever again. He didn't fail them.

"Fred?" he turns his head. His father's standing in the doorway, and walks over to his bedside slowly, a serious expression on his face, "They're dead, Fred."

"Pardon?" the doctor looks slightly confused, even as Fred's eyes widen in horror.

"No…" Fred groans, "Oh no… no, no, no…" He clutches his head and it's as if he can hear the wind howling all over again, You failed, "Oh no…"

"Those kids who died two weeks ago. That's who my son is talking about," his father explains fast to the doctor, and then sits next to the bed, "Six of them. Heart failure. Benny is still comatose. The doctors weren't sure you'd wake up either."

Fred breathes in and out as it sinks in slowly. It feels strange that he doesn't hurt more for losing them. Deep down, he knows why that is, but it still makes him feel guilty, "I get it…" he sighs, "And… the guys who helped me… Have they really been visiting?"

"They've been calling the hospital daily. You owe them your life… Look at yourself, Fred, I thought you were smarter than this," his father wraps him in an embrace, "You mean everything to me… How could you do something so foolish?"

"I… I…" he swallows, "I just wanted to fit in… I've been doing it for months… I'm really sorry, dad…" he starts crying and wraps his arms around his dad, "I'm so sorry, I just… Benny wanted me to fetch help, and I didn't know what to do, I kept on being sick and… I'm sorry." His dad is so disappointed in him that he can't stand it, "Dad, people are dead…"

There is a silence, and then his dad speaks, "But not because of you."

"But I was supposed to find somebody… Isn't it my fault?"

Stan Lee can't help but be impressed at how his son is willing to take responsibility for the tragedy, "Not all of it. I should have been around more. I shouldn't have insisted that you hang out with Benny just because of your similar social status. These last two weeks I've had time to think. To prepare. We can get through this, if we all work together as a family."

"Aw, dad!"

They hug.

Mr Lee faces the four kids who've recently saved his son's life. He's dressed in a plain suit. He looks just like any normal dad.

"You've saved my son's life," he tells them, "There's no way I could ever repay you for that."

"Well, the science division at SFIT could use some more funding, if you're secretly a millionaire," Wasabi laughs.

Mr Lee laughs too, "Fred's been hanging out with a bad crowd lately," he tells them more seriously, "I suppose you might know that crowd… has been thinned. He needs to fill his time productively, and I was hoping that the four of you well-educated kids might like to help? He's fascinated by the practical applications of science."

They look at Fred, who looks a lot more appealing when he's not throwing up, "No offense, Mr Lee," Tadashi shrugs, "But I don't know that Fred would do great at SFIT as a student. There's gotta be another angle though…"

There's a few silent seconds while they try to think. Knowing Fred for even this brief amount of time has been a whole new experience for all of them.

"Oh! Oh!" Mariana puts up her hand, "I have an idea, Mr Lee! There's going to be a competition to choose the School Mascot in a few weeks! We could get to know Fred at SFIT that way!"

Mr Lee smiles.

It's two days since Fred woke up and he now knows the kids who saved his life by name. It's kind of because his dad set it up, but it's nice to have smart friends. Their projects are super-cool, he doesn't mind hearing all the details on how it'll work even if he doesn't understand all of it. And they don't mind that he's kind of a geek sometimes. They're not junkies and they're not snobs or jerks. Okay, they're not rich, but as far as they know, neither is he.

It's like having a secret identity. He'll tell them when he's ready.

"I like how your tea smells," he tells Mariana.

"Thanks! I like to take it with a bit of honey and lemon. It makes it really sweet."

"Hmm," he thinks for a minute, "I think it suits you."

"Thanks."

"I mean, Honey Lemon. I'm gonna call you Honey Lemon from now on. Cus you're so sweet," he grins, and she blushes a little, which is really cute and kind of funny, "Okay, so I've got this awesome idea for my Mascot costume," he holds up a sketch for Honey Lemon to see, "Behold! Fredzilla!"

"Fredzilla?" Honey smiles widely, looking at the sketch. It's pretty good. In fact it's very good for a quick sketch, "It looks pretty cool… but what's a giant lizard got to do with science?"

"Okay, so the 'zilla' part is totally optional," he grins, "See, what I figure is that people think there's limits to what science can do. They'd say, well, it works, so why go further? They say it's boring. They say it's unrealistic. Well, I say science doesn't have limits! I say with enough science, nothing's impossible! Not even transforming into a huge fire-breathing lizard!"

"I don't know if that's science…" Honey laughs, "But it's definitely a new way of saying giant lizards are scientific."

Fred beckons her closer, "Between you and me, sometimes I dream I'm a fire-breathing lizard," he sits up again, looking into her eyes, "Oh, and Honey Lemon?"

"What?"

"Thanks," he hugs her, "For saving my life…"

She smiles and hugs him back, "Any time."

Breech: I've never done crack. Just saying. But if Fred behaved exactly as a person on a Crack high does, he'd never even get out of the door to try to fetch help. Kids, don't do drugs, 'kay?

Anyway, next chapter is less of a downer, but things are always tough after a big change.