Pills, Demons & Etc.

A/N: This is a one-shot inspired by Velvet Revolver's song, "Pills, Demons & Etc." I'm writing this because the Rowdyruff Boys need some more love. Not to be confused with the plentiful amounts of PPGxRRB fics the fandom has, which usually have the boys portrayed as anything butthemselves. So I hope this fanfic of mine will be considered worthy enough to please Ruff fans, and if so… Yay! If I am successful, this story will do that while probably consequently confusing the hell out of the rest/majority of the fandom who have forgotten that the Rowdyruffs are BAD GUYS WHO WERE CREATED TO DESTROY THE POWERPUFF GIRLS NOT MAKE BABIES WITH THEM

Anyhow, this is in Brick's POV.

Beware of bad language, drug abuse and a bit of slashiness. :D

You know how they say that the high school jocks and cheerleaders eventually end up to be nothing? They become gas station attendants and fast food service slaves. And the kids that get no respect in high school get all the respect with great careers that get you all this cash and beautiful babes. Everyone's heard about that, but it's just a bunch of bullshit. I never got no respect in high school, and I sure as hell didn't have it now that I've left that shit over two years ago-- I was a nineteen-year-old bum with no money, no chick, no home, no nothing.

But I guess I never really technically "finished" high school, so maybe that crap don't apply to me. I could never go to school, even if I wanted to. We were enemies with the Powerpuff Girls, so we could never show our faces at no school without getting the cops showing up to try and send us to juvenile for all the shit we did to those sluts. The Powerpuff Girls-- who the hell decided they were so great and cool anyway? All they knew how to do was crash parties and still everyone loved them! Townsville was retarded for having so much respect for those goody goodies.

But anyways, I was better than someone at least for a while. I was always better than Butch. Butch was a loser. Butch was fucking worthless. He was less than nothing to the world. He would have been dead long ago if he didn't have me. At least I know how to get some cash when we really need it through the only game I've ever known-- crime. Butch couldn't plan and carry out a simple liquor store robbery even with all his super strength, laser eyes and super speed. He was just too damn stupid. I never wanted him trying either. It was too risky especially when we got older. When we turned eighteen we was considered adults or some bullshit, so no more second chances-- we'd be locked up for good if anyone ever caught us. Butch would have been caught if it weren't for me. He was a loser. He had never even been laid.

Don't get me wrong, he was my brother and we had been best of bros since we was born. We had always had each other's backs too, unlike our traitor brother Boomer.

Boomer left Butch and I when we was just eleven-years-old. At first, it wasn't his fault. We got in a battle with the Powerpuff Girls after getting in trouble for "terrorizing the city." We were only having a little fun-- it was our birthday for crying out loud! But because we blew up a couple of places, we soon found ourselves in a fight with the Puffs.

We were always a pretty even match with those girls. The outcomes were always close, but in the end, we always ended up losing somehow. But they always had an advantage. If those girls got knocked out it would be no fucking problem! When they woke up, they'd be in a nice comfy bed, in their room, in their house with their loving daddy at their sides. If that shit happened to us, we'd wake up behind bars. Therefore, when we felt ourselves growing weak we had to pull out of the fight to avoid that crap. We just had to.

This time, they got Boomer before the fight was over. We were just leaving, when they got him, too. We had already forfeited and those damn Puffs shot his ass down. They took him to juvi and Butch and I tried to bust him out four times, but would always run into the Powerpuffs before we could get to him. We tried, but just couldn't rescue our brother. But in the end, he was only there for a couple months.

When he got out, we found out that they put him in a foster home. We didn't know though for another three months. We thought he was in juvi forever and had already tried to break him out again, not even knowing he wasn't there anymore!

Anyways, Butch and I was hanging out at the park one afternoon when Boomer finally showed up. He was dressed all funny-like; with a buttoned down shirt, a gay little vest and khakis with his hair all combed back and gelled up. Butch and I immediately started laughing as soon as we saw him and finally recognized him.

"Dude!" I exclaimed. "Is that how they dress ya in juvi now?" I grinned at him. As goofy as he looked, I was glad to see him again.

"I found a home," he said, looking really nervous.

Butch and I stopped laughing and exchanged glances. "Whaddya mean?" Butch blinked dumbly.

Boomer bit his lip and looked at his own feet. He looked up at us again. "They put me in a foster home with this lady," he paused and seemed to be waiting for Butch and I to say something, but we was silent. He then started to babble on like an idiot: "Mrs. Georgina. She's really nice, even though she wouldn't let me have a chance by myself so I can come and look for you guys until today. That wasn't so much her fault though. It was social services who wanted to keep me away from you guys! But I told her I had to see you two, 'cause you're my brothers, and she understood and allowed it. And she even said you guys can come stay at our house too. We can be a family, guys, and have a real house and a dog and everything!"

Boomer was always the pussy of the group. Always questioning me as a leader and asking we had to do "bad things." Those "bad things" were just as fun to him as it was to Butch and I, and he knew it.

"We don't have to worry about finding places to sleep and finding food or nothing, you guys!" Boomer continued. "And Mrs. Georgina is a real good cook, too! She knows how to make just about anything and--"

"We're not living with no stinking old lady," I interrupted my brother.

He stared back at me, looking really hurt. "But Brick--"

"Nah," I said, crossing my arms. "I can't believe you, Boomer," I shook my head. "Left us for some old hag who knows how to make macaroni and fucking cheese?"

"She makes really good tacos and lasagna and every kind of cookie too!" Boomer stammered, his eyes beginning to water a little. See, I told ya he was a pussy.

"Just leave, traitor," I said glaring at him. I was pissed. He had abandoned us, and expected us to come back with him and get dressed in sissy little clothes just like him and be "good boys." I never felt so fucking betrayed before.

After that day, I rarely saw Boomer again. He tried to see us, but we would leave before he could try and spit out any sorry-ass excuses. To me, he was dead.

I never thought I would ever have to be dependent on that bastard. But over the years, Butch and I struggled a lot. Life was fucking rough. We got mixed up in all the shit that homeless teenagers always get mixed up. It was only natural, since we was never guys to follow the laws and just do anything we wanted to have fun.

Butch and I had done drugs since we were about twelve-years-old. We started with just drinking and cigarettes and eventually worked our way up to heroin over the years. And that's how I lost my only friend and best bro Butch.

I never had no intention on getting clean till I lost Butch. He overdosed on the shit, while I was gone from our temporary home in an abandoned movie theater, getting us some drinks. I came back only to find my brother on the floor, his eyes rolled backwards and vomit seeping from his mouth. He wasn't dead yet, and I tried to do anything I could think of to get him to snap out of it. I couldn't take him to the hospital without risking my own freedom, but I had no choice. I didn't want to lose him. I couldn'tlose him. But even after going to the hospital, it was too fucking late.

After he kicked it, I stood at his bedside for the longest time, staring at him, and waiting. I thought for sure, he would start breathing again. He would wake up, and we would laugh. I'd call him an asshole and we'd ditch that place and go have some fun. But he just kept on laying there and not moving. My brother was dead.

I started to cry. I never cry, and I didn't even realize that I was when I was. The tears just started falling. I couldn't hold 'em back even though I fought them hard.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but I didn't move, or look up. I thought for sure it was a cop, ready to arrest me and lock my ass up. I was surprised that he hadn't shown up earlier.

"Sorry," I heard a voice say quietly. I knew the voice right away, even though I hadn't heard it for almost eight years. It was deeper now, and more mature, but it was still the same old, blubbering and bitchy voice that belonged to my blonde haired dumb ass brother, Boomer.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked, still not looking up or moving.

"The hospital called me and I rushed over as soon as I could," he said. "When we was separated, I made sure that you guys had some records made with me as a contact… so if anything ever happened to you guys, I would know…" his voice trailed off. "I've always been scared that this was gonna happen, but…. I can't believe he's dead…" he said quietly.

I turned around and looked at Boomer. I was about to start screaming at him. I was still pissed at him for leaving us. I felt like it was his fault about everything. When he left, we weren't the same. We couldn't pull the same stunts we used to when there was three of us. There was still three Puffs, and he left us to be two against three. It was harder to get money and harder to live. It was all his fucking fault. And now Butch was gone and I had absolutely nothing and it was his fault, too. But before I could scream all this at the blonde pretty boy, I was interrupted by a cop who showed up at the door. The dude didn't even say nothing; he just started slapping the handcuffs on me. I was too fucking tired to fight back.

"What are you doing?" Boomer blinked at the cop.

"What does it look like he's doing?" I rolled my eyes.

"Wait!" Boomer said, but the cop was already well on his way on escorting me out the door.

I was only in the slammer for about three hours when I got the news that Boomer had bailed me out. I wanted to refuse to leave and refuse that bastard's offer to help me, but I couldn't. I knew I wouldn't be able to bust out of there myself, and I sure as hell didn't wanna be there. To be honest, the biggest reason was because I could already feel a craving for my stash I still had at the theaters. I planned to ditch Boomer and get my stuff, but I realized I was just too tired that night. I just wanted to go to bed and never fucking wake up.

I should have taken the first chance I had to go back and get my stuff. Boomer took me back to his place with that old lady Georgina. I just slept for days, I didn't wanna think about Butch or face the world without him. I refused to believe that he was gone.

But I eventually had to wake up. I was sick. I hadn't had a fix for three days and my body was aching for it. I was sweating and I was cold and shivering and going literally insane from the pain of it all. I was too weak or else I would have gone and got my shit myself. But when I woke up, all I could do was lay in bed and suffer.

I was suffering for hours before Boomer showed up. When he saw me shivering in the bed, and vomiting all over myself, he immediately dropped the books in his hand and rushed to my side. I was shaking violently and I just couldn't control myself as I fell in and out of consciousness. "Hang on, Brother! Hang on!" I remember Boomer yelling. "Just hang on! It'll all be over soon!"

And he was right. I knew about dudes who had gone cold turkey with their shit and had to go through all this. They had to suffer for days and then they'd suffer a little bit less, and then finally be "off" their stuff. And this was what I did, but it wasn't because I wanted to get clean or anything. I felt like I was gonna die, and I honestly didn't give a damn. I had nothing, so what if I kicked it like Butch? And so I just let myself suffer for days, hoping it would kill me, but it didn't. I shoulda guessed it. Nothing ever goes right for me. Now I was stuck in this stinky ass house with the brother who had abandoned me years ago.

He was all I had though. My only option. With Butch gone, I had no chance in getting away with all the shit I could pull off with him at my side. I wouldn't survive on the streets on my own. I'd eventually have to steal, which means I would have to fight-- the Puffs would catch my ass in no fucking time.

The first morning that I had regained sanity and consciousness, I woke up to find Boomer laying beside me in bed. He had one arm around me, and he clung to me real tight. While I was sick, I remember moments of him doing this to me then too, while he pleaded for me to stop shaking and to be alright. He got scared way too fucking easily.

"Get off of me, you fag," I groaned, sitting up in the bed.

Boomer immediately sat up too. He stared at me and seemed to be searching my eyes for something. Suddenly he grinned and he threw his arms around me, "You're alright!" he said. "I thought I was gonna lose you-- both of you!" I could hear him starting to cry and I shoved him away from me.

"Get off, I said!" I shouted. "Fucking faggot."

He frowned and got out of bed. He disappeared outside the door for a while. I got out of bed and stretched my legs. I still felt weak, but I had to walk, just to be sure I wasn't fucking paralyzed for life.

I looked around my brother's room-- which I had just realized I had been in for the past week or more. My brother really had it made. He had a computer and a TV set and a stereo and everything. I looked at his desk and saw all these books piled up there. "What are you a goody goody college boy now?" I asked Boomer as I heard him coming back in.

"I'm not a goody goody," he protested, setting down a tray with two bowls of cereal. "I brought you some Coco Puffs."

"Are you fucking serious? Coco Puffs?" I stared at him.

"Yeah. What's wrong with Coco Puffs?" he frowned.

I shook my head and couldn't help but laugh. "You're a fag, you know that?" I took the bowl and sat down on his computer chair and began to eat.

He rolled his eyes at me. "Yeah, I know I am, but Coco Puffs aren't what make me faggy, dumb ass."

I paused for a moment and stared at him. He stared back at me, with his arms folded and a glare plastered on his face. He was serious, and he was making sure that I knew it. "You're a queer?" I blinked at him.

"Yeah, so what about it?"

I stared for a little while longer and then shrugged it off. "Nothing," I said, continuing to eat again.

I shoulda known my brother was into dudes. I told ya he was a pussy.

I finished my bowl quickly and then stood to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" Boomer asked.

"I dunno. Somewhere." I wasn't exactly planning to leave, but I had to go find myself something to eat other than this queer ass Coco Puffs. There was a McDonald's down the street that was real easy to snatch a burger without no one noticing. But Boomer quickly ran in front of me, blocking my only exit. "What's your problem?" I snapped at him.

"What'syourproblem, Brick?" he had a pissed off look again. "You know, you have some fucking nerve, asshole," he shook his head with a look of disgust. "I was supposed to buy myself a fucking car, but instead I use that cash to get your ass out of jail. I've been saving that money up since I was fucking fourteen. ThenI skip school for a week just to make sure you don't dieon me. I took you in, even though you told me 'fuck you' every fucking time I just wanted to continue being your brother, and just 'cause I got sense enough to not get messed up the way you got messed up. You're an asshole and you're notleaving."

"What the hell you need a car for? You can fucking fly, dumb ass."

"No, dumb ass, I haven't been able to fly since I was fucking eleven-fucking-years-old!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Boomer paused for a while. His angry look disappeared from his face. He lowered his head and stared at the floor. "They took my powers from me when they locked me up," he said and looked up at me. His eyes glimmered a bit and I could tell it hurt him to even think about it, even though he still tried to get a hard look on his face again. "They strapped me down to a fucking chair and shot a needle in my arm, and my powers were gone. Just like that."

I stared at him in complete shock. How did I not know this? I sat back down on his bed and just stared at him. He was a normal dude, and had been for the past eight years. "Shit, man…" I muttered under my breath. "Shit…."

I couldn't believe what he was saying. It was the biggest shock I ever had. I wasn't expecting this one at all. Taking away our super powers is the most shitty thing anyone could do to us. We was born with 'em and they were natural to us. We weren't fucking animals, but that was like treating us like dogs that get de-barked and cats who get de-clawed. Without that shit, in our natural world which was the streets, how was we supposed to ever defend ourselves?

For some reason, I felt guilty. I guess 'cause all these past years, I wondered why he wouldn't escape and come back. Why he couldn't come back and why it took so long when he finally did show up and why he would choose to leave. But if he didn't have no powers no more… he never really had a choice. He just wouldn't be able to survive. Butch and I hardly were able to; he would have been dead in no time.

I watched Boomer shove all his books into a backpack and he stormed out of the room, obviously upset. "I'm going to fucking school. Do whatever the hell you want, Brick."

I stayed with Boomer and old lady Georgina. At first, I thought it'd be only temporary and that I'd eventually be able to come up with some sort of plan for myself, but I just couldn't. I couldn't really think. I missed Butch. I couldn't focus on nothing with his death on my mind.

It wasn't long before I began to think maybe things would be alright just the way they had turned out to be. It wasn't all that bad, except I had to sneak out to have a cigarette or a drink since Georgina didn't allow it or whatever. But I had a roof over my head for once, and plenty of food-- a whole fucking refrigerator full. I had forgiven Boomer, but I didn't let it show. He still thought I was pissed at him, which I guess came from me calling him a faggot every other sentence, but fuck it, he was! But I wasn't really pissed at him anymore. I realized that they fucked him up and he had no choice. He was already a pussy and then they made his ass even weaker. He got jacked and it wasn't his fault. I just wished he woulda explained it to us.

He was still the same old Boomer. Gullible and kinda slow. Always laughing and always smiling and the most optimistic mother fucker alive. I started to remember how much I loved him when we was together. Even though it was mostly because I could always prank him really easily, I loved the dude.

But to be honest, I wasn't thinking too straight and it wasn't long before I was getting mixed up again. It wasn't heroin though. It was just shit I found in the medicine cabinet-- pills. I thought they had to be better than heroin. I thought they wouldn't mess me up, but just take the edge off a little. Doctors gave that shit out, after all. It hadto be safe. And there was lots of it in that house. Most bottles had dates that were way expired, but it didn't matter to me.

I still missed Butch. I still refused to accept his death. Boomer wouldn't let me sleep all day, so I took the pills until I could force myself to forget. I was sure to hide it from Boomer though. I straightened myself up before he got back from school in the late evenings. I knew he wouldn't like it.

Still, I'd be a little fucked up sometimes when he got home from school. He assumed I was drunk. What kinda dork don't realize the difference between a high person and a drunk one? Well anyways, that was Boomer. He'd be upset, but not as much as he would be if he knew I was popping pills.

One night, I was pretty fucked up and he had been out on some date with some dude. He came back fucked up, too, but that was just from alcohol. I found out quickly that my brother was an emotional drunk. His date didn't go so well and he was upset. He was crying and cursing and punching walls, and just fucked up beyond belief.

"Calm down, dude," I told him, not bothering to sit up from where I lay on his bed.

He sat down beside me and sniffed loudly, "I hate relationships."

"Why the fuck you need relationships for?" I laughed, finding it funny. I was high. I found most things funny and it didn't matter that my brother was bawling like a chick right beside me. "You're nineteen. You're just supposed to be banging everything in sight with no commitments. Jesus Christ, I thought you were normal, bro." I kept on laughing. "Relationships! Ha!" I said with a snort.

My brother didn't say anything. He had calmed down, but he was still sniffling and crying like a little bitch. "God, why do you have to be such a faggot?" I sighed and sat up. I put my arm around him. I figured to myself that I'd just treat him like a chick. He was definitely acting like one. Everyone fucking knows already he looks like one. I rubbed his shoulder, "Come on, alright? Calm down already."

He sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "I need another fucking drink," he muttered.

"Ah come on," I said. "Looks like you had enough already."

He didn't listen and he disappeared for a couple minutes, returning with two bottles.

"Root beer?" I asked. "I thought you was getting a realdrink."

Boomer took a swig from a bottle and then wiped at his mouth. He shook his head. "It isa real drink. It's only root beer on the outside." He tossed me the other bottle he had in his hands.

I snapped of the top and drank from it. It was real alcohol. "Shit, if I woulda known this shit was real beer, I would have been drinking it a long fucking time ago," I laughed.

"Well, Mrs. Georgina don't like alcohol, so if she asks, it's only root beer."

I laughed some more. Boomer was silent and just kept on drinking. At least he wasn't crying no more.

"You'll find someone," I said.

"You really think so?"

"Yeah," I said. We was quiet for a while, and we both just kept on drinking. "You want me to kick this guy's ass?" I asked.

Boomer laughed. "Nah, that's alright."

"Alright," I said.

We were quiet again. Dudes just don't talk when they're upset and especially when they're all confused at the same time. I sure as hell was confused. I caught myself staring at Boomer. I had forgotten he was my brother for a while there, and my mind had wandered to places it ain't never been before.

Boomer caught me staring. "What?" he asked.

"You look like a chick," I answered truthfully without really thinking. We dudes don't think either when we're confused.

I don't know what happened, but suddenly we was kissing. I was just staring at his lips-- they was like a girl's lips. And fuck, I was drunk and high and I get horny when I get drunk and when I get high, and I was both, so that made me like.. double horny, or something. So I just went for it. Without thinking, of course.

Boomer was damn good at kissing. I guess it was 'cause he was a dude, so of course he would know what a dude liked. He knew what he was doing, that was for sure.

I don't know what else went on that night, but all I know is that we woke up the next morning naked.

I won't lie: I was scared shitless after that night. I had never done that stuff with a dude before. Never even thought or fantasized about it. I know at the time, I was picturing him as a chick, but still. And he was my brother. That was just fucked up. I fucked up.

I don't think Boomer remembered what happened. He never mentioned it. That morning when we woke up naked, I was the first to wake up. I got dressed before he woke up and noticed. He didn't say nothing. Thank fucking god. I just wanted to forget what happened. I started popping even more pills a day so I could forget how I fucking violated my own damn brother. I killed one, and raped the other. I must've been the most fucked up guy in the universe.

It wasn't very long before I ran out of the supply in the house, I decided I'd go to the pharmacy and just get some more. Then I realized just as soon as I got there that I needed a subscription, so I knocked out the dude at the counter, filled my pocket with bottles and bottles of random pills-- one of every fucking color, shape and size-- and then grabbed as much cash as I could from the register, just because it happened to be there.

I still don't know why I did it. I didn't need to. I didn't need the money at all and I probably could have waited for an opportune moment when I could steal some pills without anyone noticing. But I didn't. I did it the hard way. I just… felt like it and so I did it. What can I say? It's in my fucking blood.

I was leaving the place with hundreds of dollars in my hands when I ran right into my brother, knocking him to the floor hard. His eyes widened when he noticed the money. "Brick…."

I felt instantly guilty.

The Puffs showed up then. They automatically assumed that Boomer was a part of my crime and that lesbo Buttercup immediately knocked him out with one punch, without asking any questions. I dropped the money, and rushed over to Boomer, thinking he might be dead, he was hit so hard. I slung him over my shoulders and took off. Fuck the fight. Fuck the Powerpuff Girls. Fuck the money. I had to make sure my brother would be alright. I had to get him out of there. He was all I had.

While I waited by Boomer's bedside for him to wake up, I was getting flashbacks to when I lost Butch. I was paranoid that shit was gonna replay right now. From the looks of the punch that fucking Puff gave Boomer, it didn't seem like those girls were aware of his lose of powers. What if he bleeding internally in the head or some shit?

I remembered that I still had pills in my pockets. I began popping pill after pill, while waiting for my brother to wake up. I don't know what those pills were supposed to be for, but they sure as hell had an affect on my memory. I don't remember ever falling asleep, but I guess I did.

I woke up and felt that my face was sticky with sweat. It was dark and obviously pretty late at night. I heard soft breaths behind me and felt an arm wrapped around my body. I knew it was Boomer, but he hadn't held me like that since I was sick that last couple weeks ago.

I stayed still for a while and just listened to the sound of my brother breathing in his sleep. He held me so gently, yet so firmly; as if I was some fragile little statuette that he didn't want to break, but was too priceless to wanna let go. I closed my eyes and consumed it all. I didn't want to forget this moment.

As safe as I felt in his arms, I still couldn't shake this sick feeling in my gut. I felt awful. I was supposed to be there and take care of him, only I fucked myself up and he had to take care of my ass again. I had don't too much too him and I was wrong for it. Me being there was only causing trouble. I could see it: His life was getting fucked up. It wouldn't be long before it was as fucked up as mine.

And it was all my fault.

I got out of bed, careful not to wake Boomer up. He didn't need someone like me in his life. He'd always end up taking care of me like that. They might have removed that shit from his system, but the addiction to crime still ran through my veins. I knew it would be something I wouldn't ever be able to control. No matter how hard I tried. And with that instinct to do bad, came the need for my drug addictions that fucked me up. And when I got fucked up, I fucked him up…. What if the next time, he remembered what happened? I couldn't keep him held back. He was a college boy now. He was gonna have a life. He deserved more than my sorry ass. I loved him too much to fuck him up anymore.

I knew I wouldn't survive on the streets for very long, but I had no other choice. I felt my jean pockets and realized Boomer had taken my pills. I found my jacket on the floor and picked it up. I felt the pockets and saw he hadn't taken the pills I had in there. I put on my jacket and opened the door to leave.

"Where the hell are you going?"

I turned at looked at my brother. He was sitting up in bed and staring at me. I could already read pain in his face, so I knew he already knew what I was up to. "I gotta go."

"Where?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Somewhere." Boomer opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him: "I know: I'm an asshole."

Boomer fell out of bed and tried to block the doorway, but I easily pushed him aside. He grabbed onto me from behind and refused to let go. I just stood there for a while. He seemed to be squeezing me with all his strength, but it felt like nothing. I put my hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him away again.

He started beating at me with his fists, throwing one pathetic punch after another. "You're not going, Brick! You're not going anywhere! You can't!" he shouted angrily.

I just stood still and took the punches, trying to keep myself from getting emotional. I never saw nothing so fucking pathetic. He was weak. His punches didn't even fucking tickle. He really didn't have super powers no more. He was a normal dude-- helpless. It was so fucked up to see him like that and I couldn't stand it. It was just sickening.

I pushed him away again, and watched him collapse onto his knees, completely out of breath. He gasped for air and tried to continue pleading for me to stay, but I ignored him. I had to. It was for his own good.

I left with the intention of never returning. It hurt, but I didn't want to hurt him no more. What I didn't know then was that the feeling of being held by my brother had become a bigger addiction than any drug or pill. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep myself from returning to fuck up his life again. I knew it, the moment I left and my chest physically ached. My heart pained. Boomer was all I had, and it fucked me up to leave him.

Fortunately, I finally came up with a plan, not long after being on the streets. One that would solve all my problems and guarantee that Boomer didn't have to deal with my sorry ass every again.

I turned myself in to the cops.

They locked me up.

They strapped me to a chair.

They stuck a needle in my arm.

And just like that, I was just like any other man on the planet. I was no longer invincible to the things that harmed the normal man. I wasa normal man. I was vulnerable and weak. I was powerless.

Boomer bailed me out again. I knew he would. He cried when I told them what they did to me. I knew he would do that, too.

Everything went as planned. For once, I didn't feel like a complete failure as I began to execute my last part in my plan.

I left Boomer a note before I went:

Everything will be alright, Bro. Don't worry about me. I'm sorry for all the shit I did to you. I love you, bro.

--Brick

As I held the gun to my head, with my finger steady on the trigger, I made sure to clear my mind of everything but the only two people I loved in this world.

My brothers.

We'd all be together again. Someday, we'd be reunited. I was sure of this. And then it would be just like it was when we was careless little kids, only having fun.

Always having fun.

I couldn't wait.

The end.