(A/Ns: wooaaah under 3 weeks for an update again aaaaah. anyways yes there's a lot of weed in this fic. it's a pretty common thing here. everyone does it. (i don't, but then again it'd be pretty hypocritical if i did). a lot of little things go on in this chapter, as usual. try pick up on them!
content warnings: strong descriptions of eating disorders, descriptions of self harm, discussions of abuse, drug use, mentions of addiction, swearing, mentions of sex, smoking, brief mentions of vomit.

disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or Vanitas no Carte)

Chapter 7

Sometimes, secrets existed for a reason. Break had always been a strong believer of that.

The incident from yesterday was still fresh in his mind. Walking out of that stall and laying eyes on Oz, pointedly with his back to him, made him panic more than he ever had before. His secret was no longer a secret. And the last time that happened, he ended up in treatment for 8 months.

Oz was different, though. They had blackmail against each other. Neither of them would dare say anything to anyone else, out of fear for themselves. On top of that, Break had been growing suspicious of him for a while; he was oddly distant, and yet so good at hiding it. Too good, almost. So, needless to say, the incident in the bathroom yesterday wasn't the only pending topic of discussion.

That was what Break hoped, at least. They'd formed an alliance – in a sense – after all.

With that in mind, they were meeting the very next day, at 8am sharp.

Break didn't mind leaving his house early. It wasn't as if he had a bad home life. If anything, it was the opposite; he'd been spoilt rotten as the only child, and he knew that. He also knew he was an absolute shit to his parents. Did that stop him? Of course not.

"Hey."

Being pulled from his trance, Break slowly cranked his neck to the side, turning his phone off as Oz approached him.

"Good morning," he greeted in response, his words totally void of the usual teasing edge.

Oz, averting his gaze to the floor, subconsciously pulled his sleeves over his wrists – it now made so much sense why he always did that – before staring off into the distance and asking, "Where did you want to go?"

"Hm…" Break hummed, pushing himself off the wall and gesturing down the street. "The field?"

"Sure," Oz agreed, following the other away from their college, and down the small alley which led to the park. At this time in the morning, it was deserted, but for the sake of privacy, they still settled down on the grass far away from the path, shielded by bushes and underneath a tree. The snow from yesterday has already melted, and the grass a little wet, but neither of them seemed to care all that much.

The lingering tension seemed to worsen the longer the silence proceeded. Crossing his legs over, Break hesitated for no more than a minute, before digging a hand into his bag and starting the conversation again. "You want a little pick me up?"

"Heh," Oz chuckled solemnly. "You sound like a dealer."

"Is there really much difference?" Break chimed, holding up a poorly rolled blunt between two fingers. He grinned. "Hm?"

There was a brief moment of silence, where Oz pondered on the offer, before a slight smile curved at his lips. "Yeah, sure."

"I'm surprised," Break pointed out, trying to conceal the fact he was genuinely shocked that Oz had just accepted the offer for drugs. Without a word, he stuck the blunt between his teeth, pulling the lighter from his jacket pocket and smoothly lighting up. The smoke spiralled upwards, but the high wasn't enough to distract Break from the awkwardness of this… exchange?

"Why do you have it?" Oz asked, the blunt promptly being passed to him, as he took a tentative but smooth hit.

"I've had it hidden in my bag for a while. Ah, just when it feels right, you know? Mhm… I was right to suspect that Reim wouldn't recognise the smell of pot, thankfully." Break took the blunt back, dragging on it greedily. "I have to say, you don't strike me as the type of person who'd done drugs before."

Oz tried not to smile regretfully again, as he accepted the blunt once again and inhaled on it – once again, swiftly, as if it was hardly new to him. "I'd rather not go into it."

For the next few minutes, neither of them said a word. Instead, the time was filled by passing the blunt to one another a few times.

Eventually, Break got bored of the silence.

"Why are we here?" he asked, tone indecipherable, as he ground out the blunt into the grass.

His attention dedicated to the blades of grass which he fiddled with, Oz simply shrugged. "How long?"

As much as Break wanted to feign innocence, he knew it was pointless. Still, though, something about what was going on right now felt inherently wrong.

"How about this, then," Oz said, "Everything you tell me, I tell you the same."

"I suppose we have to say something," Break snickered. "Otherwise this is pointless."

"Mhm." Oz nodded.

Break hesitated, almost wishing he had something stronger than weed. Then, he answered. "8 months, give or take. Since the holidays of year 12 into 13, to be specific." He paused, but clearly wasn't done. "Well, the second time, at least. I'm sure you know about the first time."

Oz and Break had been in the same group since secondary school. It wasn't much of a mystery.

Slowly, Oz nodded.

"And you?" Break asked, briefly gesturing to Oz.

Subconsciously pulling his sleeves further over his wrists, Oz glanced down once again. Sheepishly, he spoke. "4 years. Everyday."

Break had to bite down on the inside of his mouth in order to stop himself reacting visibly. "I see," he said, "Does that, by any chance, have to do with why you leave your house early?"

Oz froze immediately.

"I can see the bruises, you know," Break added, watching Oz tense up even more. "I know it's not Ada who does that. And there's only one other person who could be at fault."

"Yeah…" Oz sighed, a sad, almost depressed aura clinging to his words. "I leave early to get away from… my father. Usually I just… get what I need to do done, and then… get out before he wakes up."

From the very brief, momentary gesture to his wrists, Break was pretty sure he knew what he meant. It was crushing, and even though they weren't really close, he still wanted to go right over to Oz's house and kill his father. Oz was a good kid; everyone knew that. He couldn't have done anything to deserve this kind of treatment. But, he couldn't. If Break did anything outside of their deal, Oz would be going straight to Reim, and he knew it.

"Only the morning?"

Wordlessly, Oz shook his head. "At least twice a day. It's… a little random; sometimes based on opportunity."

The silence resumed, to no surprise. Ultimately, Break knew he'd be answering the same question in a second.

Oz, not needing to say a single word to get the point across, stared expectantly at him.

"Four times a day," Break sighed, dropping his line of view. He knew it was bad. He didn't need a disappointed silence from Oz. "Three minimum."

Silence, again. Oz couldn't think of another question. He didn't want to ask anything which would be awkward to be asked back. (Which was most things, unfortunately.)

Instead, after another minute of no one uttering a sound, he chuckled, the haziness from the drugs finally getting to him. "This is weird. We're just… talking about our problems, and yet… nothing is getting saved."

"Hm." Break paused. "Better each other than the people we're closest to."

"Yeah… I guess you're right."

"Mhm," Break hummed again, before grabbing his bag and standing up abruptly, swaying a little as he did so. "If we're done here, for now, I ought to go. I have Physics work due in… half an hour, give or take~"

"Are you any better at Physics when you're high?" Oz asked, tilting his head.

"Hm, no," Break frowned. "If anything, I'm worse."

"Ah."

"Hopefully, if I go through the questions and draw some question marks, it'll look like I tried."

Chuckling under his breath, Oz followed a few footsteps behind break. He trod lightly, feeling practically weightless. Odd, since he'd never opened up like this to anyone before, and drugs didn't have this much of an effect, usually.

If this was all this deal entailed, then perhaps things might just be okay.

"Leo? Are you paying attention?"

For the fifth time that hour, Leo wanted to strangle his teacher at the sound of his voice.

"Did you ask me something?" he drawled out, trying to conceal the irritability in his words, as he pulled the pen away from his teeth and glanced up at his Biology teacher. Thanks to his glasses, he wouldn't see the venom in his glare.

"Yes," the teacher sighed, gesturing to the diagram on the board. "Which synapse is this?"

"I have no idea," Leo said bluntly. He could feel everyone in the class staring at him in awe, but he couldn't give less of a shit.

The teacher frowned. "See me after class, please."

Under his breath, Leo cursed. "For fuck's sake."

Clearly, though, it wasn't under his breath enough; Elliot heard.

"It's your own fault for not showing up," the blonde scoffed.

Along with that teacher, Leo wouldn't have minded giving Elliot a slap, too.

He wasn't usually this intolerant. Today, however, it seemed as if everything was collectively working against him. For one, his absences in Biology had finally caught up to him, and his place in the final A Level exam was put on the line if he didn't stop skipping. Today was a full day, as well, and Biology would've been the lesson he skipped for the sake of catching up on work for the other lessons.

And to top all of that off, Flo was being a stubborn ass – in his opinion – this morning, and had refused to lend him any money to buy cigarettes, so his last smoke was yesterday evening. To make that worse, until he got more money somehow, he was without, putting him even more on edge.

Leo tried so hard no to make Elliot suspicious, but he was fairly certain he'd failed at this point. Especially since he'd spent the last hour of this godforsaken Biology lesson effectively smoking the pen and resisting the urge to throw something across the room.

After what felt like an eternity, the lesson was finally over.

Before he could leave, though, his teacher called him over, dismissing Elliot. At least they were alone, Leo considered briefly. Because, despite what he might protest, Elliot would have sided with the teacher.

Perching on the side of his desk, his teacher promptly crossed his arm over his chest, and directed his stern gaze on Leo. "We need to talk about your attitude."

It took an incredible amount of self-restraint for Leo not to roll his eyes. The conversation hadn't even started yet, and he already couldn't wait for it to be over.

"You haven't shown up a significant amount recently. It's not like you. And unfortunately, it's having an impact on your grades," he sighed. "Considering you haven't shown up to our last two mock tests, I'm going to have to put a U down on your final report."

That got Leo's attention.

Sure, he technically already had a place at Oxford. He was predicted the right grades, and they'd liked him at the interview. So, it wasn't like his place was compromised or anything. However, getting a U in anything at this point in his A Levels would spur at the very least an intervention.

"Can't I resit?" Leo tried. "I can learn the stuff. Just give me a week-"

"I emailed you and offered a resit multiple times, Leo. You ignored me every time," he cut him off, holding a hand up to halt the other. "So no. You're not resitting." He paused, seemingly waiting for Leo to reply. But he never did. "You're an exceptional student, Leo, and it's incredible that you've been offered a place at Oxford. I can understand if Biology isn't your favourite subject, but you have a lot of potential. Your ability to learn and recall information is astonishing. But I'm afraid you're reaching a point where you're going to struggle catching up."

"Cheers for that," Leo said sarcastically, letting his words slip before he could remind himself who he was speaking to right now. "Now I know I'm officially fucked."

"Don't use that kind of language with me."

Biting back a scoff, Leo rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Alright," he mumbled sulkily, "Sorry."

"Why aren't you showing up?" The teacher questioned, his tone softening. "What happened to your work ethic?"

He didn't want to think about the cigarettes, or how badly he needed one. He didn't want to think about the drugs, and how – in about ten minutes – it'd be time to shoot up again. Hell, he didn't want to think about the situation with Elliot. Or Vanitas, for that matter.

There were so, so many answers which were painfully true. But instead, Leo simply sighed, and shrugged. "Too much work."

"I know you're doing four subjects, but you're more than capable of getting four A*s if you just put in the work."

"I am putting in work," Leo countered. "Ask my Literature and Music teachers. They'll tell you."

"I don't want to keep telling you off for attitude," he scolded. "You can leave now. I expect to see you in all our lessons, between now and exams. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Leo grumbled, almost inaudibly. Dragging himself out of the classroom, he was eternally thankful that Elliot had the patience of a twig, and had consequently given up on waiting for him.

Finding Elliot was, however, the last thing he wanted to do. Instead, he spun on his heel, and headed straight to the library to try and cram the content he'd missed in total isolation.

It was only a day or so into this alliance, but Break and Oz were already starting to form a timetable of their habits.

Currently, as the time neared the end of lunch, the two had retreated to the bathroom, praying they didn't seem too suspicious, to indulge. There was, unfortunately, no nicer way of putting it. Couple that with the fact they were both coming down from weed, it wasn't the most positive interaction they'd ever had.

"You're very quiet," Oz pointed out nonchalantly as the stall behind him swung open. He stood at the sink, running cold water over the fresh wounds, self-inflicted less than two minutes ago.

Break chuckled, wandering over the sink beside the blonde and dragging a hand through his hair. "Should I take that as a compliment?"

"Hm," Oz hummed, furrowing his brow slightly at the last cut, which annoyingly persisted to bleed. "No. It's more worrying, if anything. It… shows you have a lot of experience in keeping this a secret."

Silently, Break nodded.

And the two proceeded to, as usual, stand awkwardly, in silence.

After another minute of trying to get one of the cuts to stop bleeding, Oz was beginning to feel light headed. He should've panicked. But really, this wasn't a rare occurrence. From beside him, Break finally finished washing his hands, pulling out his bottle of water and tipping it down the sink.

The perplexed gaze spread across Oz's face was quickly replaced by an expression of subtle shock when the other retrieved a bottle of vodka from his bag. Break saw him stare, but for him, his attention was clearly directed at the red-dyed water, running down the sink and into the plug.

Quickly, Oz picked up on where he was staring, as well. He gave a sheepish laugh. "Do you ever get worried you'll go too far?"

"Hm. Perhaps," Break said, emotionless. "But I could say the same to you."

"Yeah…" Oz frowned. His eyes softened, briefly, before he forced eye contact with the other. "You should really control your drinking though."

As if out of spite, Break lifted the bottle (now filled with vodka) to his lips, and sipped nonchalantly. The burning taste didn't faze him one bit. "How come?"

"I know I'm not one to lecture you on healthy coping mechanisms…" Oz broke eye contact, glancing downwards, relieved to see the tap water clear once again. "But drinking neat vodka for lunch is… well, another level."

"Hm. You could be right." Break knocked back another mouthful momentarily. "But that's a discussion for another time."

Wordlessly, Oz nodded, before following the other out of the bathroom; back to the canteen, where they'd be back to pretending everything was fine.

Maybe, he thought to himself, if they pretended for long enough, it might even begin to feel like that, too.

Tonight, Levi was hosting the usual Friday night get-together.

Lacie didn't like Levi.

It hadn't always been like that. In hindsight, they should've seen it coming, since Lacie seemed to be capable of developing beef with literally anyone. In this instance, though, she blamed Levi. He was the one who spread the rumours they'd slept together online. He was the one who caused Jack to go bat-shit crazy on her.

She would never sleep with him anyway. Lacie liked to consider herself as someone with standards.

It was already 8:30pm, the others having arrived awhile ago. But when the invitation came straight from Levi, Lacie was reluctant to leave until she knew she wouldn't get stuck alone with him.

Only now did she arrive, banging impatiently on the door before pulling her phone out.

A minute later, the door opened.

"You know," Levi said, "the door doesn't open faster if you bang louder."

"My mistake." Lacie delivered her response with a bitter smile.

Vaguely, Levi gestured to the half-drunk bottle of Echo Falls in her hand. "Nice to see you bought us a drink."

Lacie shrugged, before inviting herself inside. "I got thirsty."

Levi had, undoubtedly, always been the richest of all of them. And considering there was a decent amount of competition in the group, that meant something. His house was immaculate, but as with Domi, and Lacie, and occasionally Jeanne, his parents often left him to his own devices.

When Lacie eventually made it to the conservatory, where they usually spent their nights, everyone else was – thankfully – already there. Lottie was stretched across one of the chairs, her face glued to her phone, whilst Domi and Jeanne were curled up together (more so than usual, actually) on the sofa. Without much deliberation, Lacie dropped down on the chair across from Lottie.

"Where's Oswald then?" Levi asked, opening the window and perching on the ledge, as he lit a cigarette.

"Couldn't be fucked, to quote him," Lacie said. Narrowing her eyes, she pointed at Domi and Jeanne, raising an eyebrow along with a quizzical glance. "I'm not imagining things. You two are being clingier than usual." She smirked. "Is there something you're not telling us~?"

"To be fair," Lottie interjected, "this is fairly normal."

The smirk which usually donned Domi's lips widened. Jeanne, on the other hand, was a blushing mess, desperately glancing up to Domi for guidance.

"Well…" Jeanne stammered. "We, um… w-"

"Yep! We're dating~!"

Whilst they wanted to say congratulations, or 'wow, that's amazing!'… this really wasn't a surprise.

"Congrats," Lottie snickered, "Haha. Lesbian."

"I'll have you know I'm bisexual," Domi corrected, her hand slipping down the Jeanne's thigh. "Tits are just better."

Lacie sighed from across the two, who promptly began debating which was better out of dicks and tits. A conversation which Levi seemed to want to weigh in on a concerning amount.

"So, Jeanne," she asked, "How did this come about?"

"Well… we both arranged blind dates earlier this week, coincidentally on the same night as each other, and then… it was with each other," Jeanne explained, the thought of it sending blood rushing to her face. "So we… went out to dinner together, as a date."

"What happened from there?" Lacie grinned. She could see where this story was going to end.

"I asked her out," Domi answered, leaving Levi and Lottie alone to flirt, now that their debate had come to an end.

"I-I confessed first…" Jeanne added.

Proudly, Domi winked. "My seduction plan worked."

Lacie didn't have the nerve to challenge Domi on that one. Instead, she simply cocked an eyebrow judgementally.

Lottie, on the other hand, had no qualms asking what they were all thinking. "So, you fucked already?"

"Of course!" Domi said, somewhat defensively, her grip on Jeanne's thigh tightening. "First dates exist for the sole purpose of hooking up, right?"

"For once," Lottie said with a smirk, "I agree with you."

It was the third night this week Vanitas had agreed to meet up in secret with Leo, and he still couldn't believe he'd met him.

Needless to say, Vanitas felt like shit after last night. Him and Noé had barely spoken to each other at college today. Sure, he shouldn't have stormed off, and the guilt from that was irritating. But what weighed him down and constantly ate at his conscience was the fact Noéknew about the drugs.

Hence, he was meeting Leo. Talking things out with the one person who could empathise the most would surely be damn-near therapeutic.

He lit a cigarette, mindlessly dragging on the smoke as he leant against the smoke.

Eventually – 5 minutes late – Leo arrived. As usual, the first thing the two did was pull each other into a tight hug. Sure, it might've been how Vanitas also greeted his boyfriend, but it wasn't the same. It didn't mean anything unless they were romantically involved.

"You okay?" Vanitas asked, tilting his head at the other, who seemed weirdly distracted. He inhaled on the cigarette, pulling away from Leo.

"Hm," Leo grunted, his eyes fixing on the plumes of smoke for a fraction of a second.

"Jeez, ok," Vanitas sighed, "What happened?"

Glancing down at the ground, Leo furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly reluctant to say anything but answering nonetheless. "I ran out of cigarettes last night. My foster sister was being a stubborn shit and didn't lend me any money. And I've had the shittiest day ever, thanks for asking, and it's been over 24 hours since my last smoke."

"Shit, all day?" Vanitas winced internally. "You must be desperate." Without hesitation, he extended the half burnt-out cigarette to Leo. "Take it; I'll roll another."

Leo clearly didn't want to say it, but from the way he took the cigarette gratefully and inhaled like his life depended on it, Vanitas could tell that – in that moment – he genuinely needed it. Whilst rolling and lighting another for himself, he simply waiting in silence for a few moments.

Then, he spoke again. "You couldn't borrow money from Elliot?"

Inhaling on the cigarette again, Leo shook his head. "No. He doesn't know. He'd probably break up with me if he found out, too."

"You wouldn't quit for him?"

"Fuck no," Leo said, screwing his face up as he flicked the ash off the cigarette. "I started when I was like 12. I'm not stopping now."

"Wait, seriously?" Vanitas found himself gawking over that little addition. Not even he could compete with that.

"Mhm," Leo nodded, albeit sheepishly. "It was when I was in-between foster homes. There was about a month during which I was in the care home with a few slightly older guys, and I got involved with them. By the time I was taken into my current foster home, I'd already made a habit out of it."

"Woah," was all Vanitas could bring himself to say. "I always thought Noé would be more annoyed than he was. I think he was more curious, at first. Now he just accepts it. A little bit like with the tongue piercing."

"Elliot is just… judgemental," Leo frowned, sucking the life from the cigarette before grinding it out with his foot, tucking his arms beside his chest. "He can't know about any of what goes on outside of college. That'd be the end of us. He already pries too much about my biological parents, and… why I'm in foster care."

"He doesn't know about that?"

Wordlessly, Leo paused, then shook his head.

"Fairs. Noé is too soft to ask about that," Vanitas snickered. His grin, however, soon faded, morphing into a resentful scowl. "There's this girl we hang out with – Florence – who's like, two years younger. She's the only difficult friend I have. I hate her."

There was a brief moment of silence, during which Leo's head whipped up, and he stared blankly at the other. "Pink hair? Doing A levels early? Always wears over-sized shirts?"

"Uh, yeah…" Vanitas said uneasily, "Why?"

"Mhm. Yeah, Flo." Leo's expression conveyed a whole array of emotions. "That's my foster sister you're talking about."

"Shit, really? Sorry. I hate her."

"Don't apologise. We both do," Leo chuckled lightly; although forced. "She's irritating, and explosive. We both are. She's the only other person who knows about the smoking, and that tends to be the root of most of our arguments. The most annoying thing is that she actually cares about me, I think. She pries for information like Elliot does." He continued shuffling the dirt around beneath his feet, refusing eye contact. "Did… you never realise she was in foster care?"

"Well, she mentioned it, but…" Vanitas paused to drag on the cigarette, before pulling out the loose tobacco and rolling a second for the other. "I guess it never really clicked? She never mentions having a foster brother."

"I'm surprised." Leo, once again, gratefully accepted the cigarette, lighting it like it was his last lifeline. "I'm also surprised she doesn't tell Elliot stuff he's… not supposed to know." He paused for a few moments. "But she… she doesn't know about the drugs."

For a minute, Vanitas simply stared in contemplation at Leo. "Your relationship seems so much more… difficult than mine. Noé is like a puppy. He's easy, and incredibly simple to satisfy."

"Yeah." Leo deadpanned through a cloud of smoke. "Elliot is… the opposite, you see."

"Man, I hope things get better for you…" Vanitas exhaled. "Noé can't know about the drugs, though. Particularly after what happened to Louis. It would break him. And he already knows too much."

"Hm?"

Sure enough, the guilt returned to the forefront of Vanitas' mind. "He sort of knows about the drugs now. Experimentation, in his eyes. I don't know how long it'll be before he wants to know more."

"I don't even want to think about what Elliot would do, or say, or think." Leo paused, pacing back a fourth a little. "He might be a pain in the ass, but… I'm not ready to lose him yet."

"That's…" Vanitas was, for once, totally lost for words. "I… hope things get a little easier for you."

"Yeah…" Leo smiled. The smile was completely forced, though. "Me too."