Charlie spends the next few days confined in the apartment, barely leaving his room. Gradually, his wounds begin to dry and he adapts to the silence. Shanna moves in with Abe while Dani is touring with Be more Heroic and Ali is auditioning for numerous roles. They spend most of their time at the Mall, or down at the beach. Anywhere but there, in the apartment where everything changed for the worst. Blake's almost always out, whether it's recording, filming or at dance practise, he sleeps down there now, not even bothering to come home. Maybe he's scared, scared of what I've become. Charlie thinks, staring blankly at the TV screen. Maybe he's just too good for us. He continues bitterly, his temper rising. Charlie doesn't even know what Michael's doing. He doesn't care. He just wishes he was dead, or gone, that he could just rewind. But this isn't a movie, this is life. And life sucks. Charlie slides off his bed and shuffles under his bed, pulling out a small bottle of whiskey. He stares at the bottle. The label, the tempting contents, the cold glass on his numb fingers. After a few seconds, he takes the bottle and throws it-hard- across the room and it goes hurtling towards the wall, glass shattering everywhere. And all Charlie can do, is cry.
Michael flicks pointlessly through the channels, barely acknowledging the images flashing on the screen. Across the hall, he hears a bottle smash and flinches at the sound. Immediately, he stands up. No footsteps come running and no screams of distress are heard. So he makes the decision to go sort it out himself. It may be stupid, but Charlie was his friend. He's not giving up on him that easily. He bounds into the other room, unlocking the door with his key and stepping into Charlie's room. Immediately, the stench of alcohol hits him, closely followed by the smell of unwashed clothes. He inhales deeply and lightly touches Charlie's shoulder. Charlie reacts quickly, trying to throw a punch at Michael. In the knick of time, he blocks it and kneels down next to Charlie. After a few seconds of silence, he embraces the tall boy, wrapping his thin arms around him. Suprisingly, Charlie begins to hug the boy back as more tears begin to fall. Michael then lets out a slight sob.
"I am so, so sorry," He whimpers, eyes tightly shut. "It's all my fault. I should never have done this to you."
"I know, I know." Charlie responds, looking down at his friend. He sighs and stands up, outstretching a bloody hand to him. Michael takes it and lets Charlie help him up.
"How 'bout we start over?" Charlie croaks, looking directly into Michael's brown eyes. He nods, exhaling a teary breath. With that, the two boys exit the dark room and make their way into Michael's apartment. But, as they open the door, the last thing they expect occurs. Standing in the middle of his apartment is Aylin. And, slightly behind her, is Nellie.
"We need to talk."