Drake's Journal Entry

I never thought you'd leave
And take your broken heart from me
I really didn't think so

You said you'd be moving on
To find a house with a greener lawn and you know
I really didn't think so

I wasted everyday
You thought that I could change, it's strange
I really didn't think so

They said you'd be coming back
I smiled when they told me that but you know
I really didn't think so

I think I might write a song with those lyrics.

Yesterday was such a shit day. They're out of Triple C's, which put me in a bad mood. Then I stormed out on Mindy. And it's not her fault. She's just worried, and I get it. And then I ran into Meelah after a week-long Charlie binge. It was so embarassing. I look like shit. I was wearing girl clothes. I was kinda out of it, so I couldn't figure out what to say. And she looked great. She's in school. Her life is prefect now. I just felt like she thought she was better than me, and Jesus, she is. But we used to be the same person. I just got stuck somewhere along the way.

And then on top of all that, I got drunk with my dad, and we just had this weird talk. I only half-remember it. I just know he hugged me.

Bleh. I just wanna throw up all over yesterday.

I'm just gonna lay in bed all day. There's nothing to fucking do. Walmart's still out. I checked. I can't remember when they get there trucks. I thought I used to know, but I can't even remember what day it is anymore. I think my birthday's coming up. All I want for my birthday are Triple C's. And money...for Triple C's.

Drake set his journal down, then opened his backpack. He grabbed what little bit of weed was left, then he started filling his pipe. When he finished, he moved over to his window and pushed it open, then he turned on his stereo. Juicebox by The Strokes started playing. Drake fished his lighter out of his pocket, then he put the flame over the bowl. The crackling of the weed comforted him only a little.

Drake's Journal Entry

A to Z List
Alcohol
Beatles
Charlie
Deadbeat dad
Ex
Fuck
Guitar
High
I Am The Walrus
Josh
Kenan & Kel
London
Mindy, Meelah, Mom, Megan, music, meth
Nothing
Oh my God, Becky, look at her butt
Pills
Queen
Requiem For A Dream
Sex
Triple C's
U Can't Always Get What You Want
Vagina
Weed
Xanax
Yes, Patrick, mayonnaise is an instrument
Zzzzz

I'm so fucking bored. Everything's so fucking boring. I just wanna fuck. What the fuck kinda word is fuck? It's one of those fancy words, SpongeBob. Sentence enhancers. Oh, okay then, Patrick. Whatever you say, Patrick.

Bae is an annoying word. I just wanna throw up all over it.

What is today?

I need some Triple C's, please. I wonder if they get a truck today. I wonder if I'm still Julio's friend or if kicking me out of the band was the end of us? Maybe he'd still wanna hang out. Ugh, I don't even feel like moving. One time, I had to help him move all of his shit from his upstairs room to another house. Downstairs, car, upstairs, get more, downstairs, car, upstairs, get more, downstairs, car, new house, upstairs, downstairs, car, get more. Wait, I just confused myself. Fuck it.

SpongeBob is bae.

Drake: wat kinda word is fucking

I listened to Charlie Freak on my phone. It's about a drug addict! A fucking drug addict! That's fucking awesome!

I just wanna spend the whole day sleeping. I have a hangover mixed with a Triple C come-down, and I feel like shit.

Josh: A bad word.

Drake rolled his eyes, then he went on Google and type in his question. There was a lot to read, and he didn't quite understand it, so he just scrolled through the example sentences. He took screenshots of them, then sent them to his step-brother.

Drake: its every fuckin thing (that's an infix for instanse

Drake: (picture message)

Drake: (picture message)

Drake: (picture message)

Drake: (picture message)

Drake: (picture message)

Drake: its a noun verb adverb ajective an infix

Drake: its everything u culd evr. want n a word

Josh: Drake...

Josh: *instance

Drake: dont corect me im fabulus

Josh: *don't *correct *I'm *fabulous

Josh: You got one out of five.

Drake: ur just jelose

Josh: Almost as *jealous as you are about me being at a beach house and you being not at a beach house.

Drake: u suck

Drake: my dad told me so

Josh: No, sir.

Josh: Mom said that she hopes you're brushing your teeth.

Drake: the fuck, mom?

Josh: What have you and your dad been up to?

Drake: we playe dsome poker

Josh: :) That's good bonding time. What about you and Mindy?

Drake: idk

Drake: I mean we got pissed off ovr sum thin stupid iv ben meanin 2 tlk 2 her, but

Josh: Tell her you're sorry.

Drake: im not sure if im the one tht neds 2 apolgiz

Josh: Apologize anyway. You need her.

Drake: i geuss

Josh: Bro...

Josh: I love you. But your spelling is poop.

Just then, the door burst open, causing Drake to flinch.

"How many god damn times do I have to tell you to turn this thing down?!" Martin stormed across the room and snatched the cord out of the wall, putting a sudden silence to the music.

Drake's stomach fell out of his ass. Did I light an incense? Does it smell like weed? It definitely smells like weed in here. Are my eyes bloodshot? If I avoid his eyes, is it obvious that I'm hiding something? Am I acting high?

"Did you hear me? You must not have heard me over that loud musi-"

"I heard you," Drake mumbled with irritation. He put the phone to his ear, then spoke into it although no one was on the other end. "Hold on a second."

When Martin saw that he was talking to someone, he stalked out and slammed the door.

"Fucking prick," Drake whispered. After a moment, he said to himself, "That one's an adjective, I think."

Drake opened his eyes, but he remained still. He was too exhausted to move although he'd spent his entire day sleeping. There wasn't anything else to do since he wasn't getting high off of Triple C's, and he was too tired to do anything anyway. Part of his body wanted to stretch out the muscles that had been compressed all day, but he didn't even want to do that. After a few moments, he forced himself to muster up the strength, then he let go of a moan as he stretched. Before he could continue thinking about laying there and going back to sleep, he pushed himself to his feet. When he looked out the window, he saw that it was dark, and when he glanced at the clock on his nightstand, he realized it was almost midnight. Perfect, he thought. That way, the night shift would be restocking.

Drake didn't feel like changing into jeans, so he kept his sweat pants on and threw a beanie over his disheveled hair, then he quietly opened his window and put one leg through.

Drake's Journal Entry

Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
That you've been gone
Please come back home

It's been three days since I've had Triple C's. Three long god damn days. Get your shit together, Walmart. I swear I've walked to Walmart ten fucking times already.

It's kinda pathetic, actually, when I think about how desperately I need it. It's fucking cough medicine. I'm not in pain without it. I'm not sick. I just need the cloudiness. Everything's stranger than ever without it. It's almost like it's own cloudiness being sober. Thinking clearly is cloudy when you've only ever been used to disorientation. I start questioning things. The stupidest, smallest things. Worrying about stupid fucking shit. Making things into a big deal when they're so simple because my brain is just not connecting things right.

Triple C's burn holes in your brain. I feel like these thoughts that I'm trying to figure out are traveling through a path in my brain that's dead. And these thoughts are swallowed by this black hole, and so I can't quite figure out how to connect my question to an answer.

I just feel kinda confused all the time. But it's not the comfortable, careless confusion that I'm used to feeling. It's different. I can't quite figure out why because of the holes that are in my brain. I haven't quite made that connection.

All I've been doing is laying here, thinking, sleeping, jerking off, thinking, sleeping, repeat. I've never thought so much about stupid little shit in my entire fucking life. That's not me. I'm very laid back. It's whatever. Even before I ever used any drugs. I never worried about shit. But now I'm thinking about every single senario of things that won't even happen, but they confuse me because I can't quite connect them, and I can't figure out what they need to be connected to. I just know that the thoughts go unfinished because, once they reach one of the holes in my brain, it's a dead end.

None of this makes a bit of fucking sense, and I'm repeating myself so much that I sound like I'm on meth. I can't ever explain things right because the holes in my brain stop me from being able to figure out how to make my words connect with other people's understanding. This is why addicts become "weird" when they're sober. I'm trying to be normal, but I'm not without Triple C's. I've been high for so long that that's what keeps me sane. Everyone adores you when you're on drugs. And then when you get clean, you get sober weird, and you're stuck that way forever because you can't connect things anymore. And then you lose everyone.

It's like you have a huge epiphany, and you share it with someone, but it doesn't make sense to them. And it hurts because it makes sense to you. It's the only thing that's ever made any sense to you. And they don't understand you. So the distance between you grows, and then everything falls apart.

I didn't understand Meelah when she got clean. That wasn't the person I fell in love with. She resented me. God, she fucking hated my guts because I was poison to her, but I still tried. I still pushed her into using until she stopped talking to me altogether. She just fucking dropped me like I never meant shit. And it fucking hurt. I guess I hurt her, too.

That's when Josh found me high out of my fucking mind. It was the first time he'd witnessed my use of Triple C's. I'd stayed home from school "sick," and he'd used his free period to come check on me. HE. WAS. LIVID. I don't remember much. Just a bunch of yelling. I think I started crying. I was too high to comprehend what exactly was going on, much less explain myself. I just knew that someone had found out about Charlie, and I thought it was over. He stormed out and headed back to school, but I guess the worrying got to him because he came back to babysit me. I threw up every-fucking-where. I think I'd taken three and a half boxes that morning, and I'd had two and a half the night before that I was still high from.

I don't know. I don't really remember that day, and Josh never brought it up, so neither did I.

I just went back and reread this, and I think I said the same sentence but in different words at least five times.

"Hello?"

"...Hey..." Drake's voice was gentle and quiet.

"Hey, Drake. You okay?" Mindy noticed a hesitance in the boy's voice as if he was still questioning whether calling was a good idea.

Drake ignored her question. "Um, I just wanted to say that I know I overreacted the other day, and I'm sorry for being a dick."

Mindy paused for a moment. She wasn't used to apologies being made by and to Drake. Their friendship was fragile. One argument could put them back where they used to be, with both despising each other. After Drake had stormed out of her house, she'd been unsure of where that left them. When he didn't try to get in touch with her, she figured that everything went back to normal. Something so small and misunderstood had shattered their glass friendship.

"I'm sorry, too," she said.

"Don't be. I know why you said it."

"Then you don't have to apologize either. I know why you left."

The two left it at that. There wasn't anything more to say about the situation. Mindy realized that Drake had felt like he was being belittled for his addiction, and Drake understood that Mindy just cared, and watching an addict struggle and make bad choices hurts.

"Maybe we should get some studying done today," Mindy suggested kindly.

"It's not really a good time."

She waited for an explanation.

"I'm just..." Drake sighed. "...in a really pissy mood," he admitted. "Walmart's still out of C's, and I'm outta weed."

"Find you math book. I'm coming over."

"You've got your steps written down. So what would X be?" the girl asked.

"Jesus Christ, I don't fucking know." There were so many numbers and letters in one problem that it overwhelmed him.

"Drake," she said sternly.

He looked at her hesitantly.

"Follow the steps."

The boy sighed, then gave in and looked down at his paper. Mindy watched him stare at it for a full thirty seconds before he actually picked up a pencil and started scribbling down some numbers.

He was different than anyone else she ever tutored. He required extra attention, and he needed her to keep him focused. He needed things to be repeatedly explained to him. He wasn't motivated, he didn't care, and he didn't believe he could do it. That's what she'd noticed about him in the time she spent with him.

"There." Drake dropped his pencil.

Mindy checked his answer. "Not quite."

"See? I can't do this shit."

"Because you're not trying." Mindy stopped herself, for she was starting to feel déjà vu. "Okay. Let's try this from a new angle." Mindy grabbed her purse, then pulled out a white, open box that had light purple writing on it.

"The fuck?" Drake was both pissed and excited when he saw it. "You bought a box from Dollar General?"

"There's twenty-four pills in here, including the eight that I had leftover after my second and third times doing them. Remember? When I only took twelve?"

"Mindy, you bitch! I forgot all about those." This surprised him because he usually thought about all his possibilities when it came to Triple C's.

"You're gonna answer the next twenty-four questions in this math book, and for every one that you get correct, you get one pill. If you get enough right, you'll be able to get a pretty decent high."

Drake looked at her with hurt and anger. "I can't believe you had those the whole time and didn't tell me."

"Are you gonna do some math, or am I gonna leave you here empty-handed?"

Drake picked up a pencil with a readiness to conquer the shit out of his math. "Where do I start?"

Mindy showed him which problem to start with, then she poured the Triple C's out onto the table. Drake cringed at the sound, but he couldn't take his eyes off of them.

When he started his attempt at solving the first problem, his leg jumped up and down nervously. He'd never worried so much over math before. The whole time, he kept thinking about getting high. His distraction caused him to get the first equation wrong. Mindy picked up one of the pills, then put it back into the box. Drake panicked even more. He watched as Mindy picked up another red pill, then put it back into the box when he'd impatiently scribbled down an answer for the second equation. After he got the third question incorrect, he threw his pencil down.

"I can't fucking do this!"

"Concentrate."

"I am."

"Do you give up?"

"Mindy, I just want the god damn pills," Drake said, his voice sounding a bit too desperate.

"Then focus."

Drake took a deep breath, then picked up the pencil. He tried his hardest to stop glancing at the pile of pills that kept gradually getting smaller. Mindy caught him counting on his fingers a couple times, then counting again just to double-check himself. For the first time, she spotted a hint of determination.

When he finally wrote down his last number and circled it, Mindy looked at it, then moved her hand towards the pile of Triple C's. Drake watched her with frustration until he saw her push a single pill closer to him instead of take one away.

"I got one," he said. "I got one!"

Mindy smiled. "Good job. Keep going."

Drake completed his final question and waited with anticipation for Mindy's approval. She checked over his shoulder for his answer, then slid the last pill over to the pile in front of him. Without a second's hesitation, Drake immediately stood and scooped up the seventeen Triple C's he had acquired in Mindy's little test, then he went over to the sink. He grabbed a glass from one of the hanging cabinets and filled it with water.

Mindy closed the math book, then stood and grabbed her purse that was hanging on the back of the chair. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"Where ya going?" Drake spun around and looked at her, then shivered suddenly after swallowing the first set of eight pills.

"My dad wanted me to go by the grocery story and get a few things."

"And you're not gonna invite me?" he said in a joking manner, but he was serious.

"Well, I figured that you'd stay home and...you know. But if you wanna go-"

"I do. Jesus, I need to get out of this house. I haven't even been out of my room in forever."

Just then, the front door opened and Martin stepped inside. He was carrying a six pack of Bud Light in each hand, and he also had one under his right arm. Drake backed up against the kitchen counter as an attempt to hide the nine pills he had piled up next to the sink.

Martin moved over to the refrigerator. "Hiya, kids. Getting some tutoring in today, I see. Drake, grab the door for me, would ya?"

Mindy saw a panic in the boy's eyes, for he feared Martin would see the pills if he moved, so she quickly stepped in. "I'll get it." She grabbed the handle on the refrigerator door and pulled it open.

"Thanks." The man slid the three boxes onto a shelf easily, for the fridge was pretty empty. He then straightened and went over to Drake. Martin put his hand on his son's shoulder in a sort of fatherly way and looked at Mindy. "How'd my boy do today?"

"Great," the girl answered. Everything about Mr. Parker's entrance felt off kilter, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. "I think he's really starting to get it."

"'Atta boy." Martin shook the boy's shoulder in a congratulatory manner.

Drake couldn't stop himself from cringing at his touch. Less than a week ago, his father had raped him, and now that he was sober, he didn't know how to put a stop to the emotions that started bubbling up from within. He shrugged his shoulder to release himself from his dad's grip.

Martin cleared his throat, then looked at the clock that was on the stove. "It's almost time for the game. I'll just watch it in my room if you two are studying."

He disappeared down the hallway, and once he was gone, Drake turned back towards the sink. He shivered slightly, for he could still feel his dad's hand on his shoulder.

"Dude, you're dad's an alcoholic," Mindy said.

"No shit."

"Why haven't you told me before?"

Drake shrugged, his back still to her. "It never came up." He tossed the rest of the pills into his mouth, then chased them down with water. He shook his head in a rapid movement just once, then let go of a cough. "Ugh. God damn."

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay to go out in public?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." If Drake stayed home, he was sure that he'd sit around anticipating the high and it'd never hit. If he went out with Mindy, he'd be distracted from constantly thinking about it.

This might sting a bit, oh oh oh
You got here just in time to see everything fall apart
I'm not upset at all, oh oh oh
But it's sad to see that everybody knows
That I've been down in here before
And maybe I could want it more
I know I never tried to stop
I never tried

Shut your mouth and hey
So what's one more excuse, guess I just like the abuse
Dizzied up in my never try vertigo
They're calling out for blood, guess it's just understood
Said we'd always try, long as I just don't do

Disappointed, oh oh oh
And no one thought that this would be me and my everything
Is this-

Drake suddenly turned the music down a bit. "Who is this?"

"Marianas Trench," Mindy answered. "I figured you'd like it."

"Why have I never heard of them?"

"They're Canadian. The singer," she added, "is a recovering heroin addict and bulimic, I think."

Drake realized then why she listened to it. She had quite a curiosity about heroin, and she had similar eating problems.

"Where'd you first hear about them from?"

"I saw the lyrics to one of their songs somewhere. I fell in love with it, and it just went from there."

"What song?"

"Alibis."

Drake started clicking the next button. "Is it on here?"

"It's the fourth one."

From the scrapes and bruises to the familiar abuses
I'll kick and scream but it never changes anything
I could spill my guts out wearing my best little girl pout
And I almost missed it but nobody said that this was gonna be easy

"This guy's range is fantastic," Drake said.

Mindy chuckled slightly because it sounded funny for some unknown reason to hear him use the word fantastic.

This is not the man I hoped to be and I'm just trying to stop the bleeding
I don't know how to word it, I just started to deserve it
And all my, all my faces are alibis, and me
I'm half the man I wanted to be

Mindy picked up a bunch of bananas and placed them in the buggy. She glanced at Drake and noticed that he seemed out of it. He wasn't high yet. It was the pre-high setting in. Nausea, numb lips, tingling, extreme lack of focus, restlessness, jumpy vision, blindness to surroundings.

"You gonna be sick?"

Drake was rubbing his good eye for whatever reason, then he started chewing on his fingernail. "I think so. Damn it. I'll be back."

Just once, Drake would appreciate not having to throw up. It was rare that he could keep the pills down, and damn near impossible when he hadn't had any rotating through his system for three days.

Drake barely reached the bathroom in time. The second he entered the stall, he bent over the toilet and vomited. There wasn't much, for he hadn't eaten that day - just a bunch of clear stuff and red chucks where the pills hadn't fully digested. When he had a free second, he closed the door to the stall, then leaned against it weakly. "Shit," he whispered. He reached into his pocket when he received a text alert.

Mindy: You okay?

Drake: dnt think they r gonna work can i hav ethe rest

He wasn't lying. He'd only taken the pills about twenty-five minutes ago, and he'd already thrown them up. They weren't too dissolved, so it didn't look like he kept much in his system. The pre-high he'd felt before rushing in here could've been all in his head. He couldn't exactly remember. His brain wasn't in the proper mindset to make that connection.

Mindy: Drake...

Drake: plez

She only had seven pills left. He was sure that seven pills wouldn't make a difference because it wasn't eight, and eight was the minimum you had to take, but maybe on top of the seventeen, it might give him a buzz of some sort.

Mindy: Alright. Come get them.

Mindy didn't seem too fond of the idea, but Drake wasn't ashamed at all. All he cared about at the moment was Charlie, and nothing was going to distract him from getting what he desired. He found Mindy in a flash. He wanted to make sure that she didn't change her mind and try to talk him out of it. The girl unzipped her purse, which was sitting on the top part of the cart, and revealed the white box. She then moved over. Drake grabbed a Coca-Cola from a cooler that they were passing, then he reached into her bag and discreetly poured the pills onto his palm.

"You're taking them here?" Mindy whispered.

"It could be Advil for all anyone knows." He tossed the seven pills into his mouth, then chased them down with his soda. He didn't like allowing the pills to rest on his tongue, for it made his spine shiver.

"Did the first seventeen really not work?"

"No."

"How could it not have worked? I take twelve and get high out of my mind."

"I've taken them longer. I have to use more. You know that. Sometimes, I take forty and get nothing."

"That can't be good. I read online that they're really bad for your liver."

Drake felt himself becoming aggravated and defensive. He was always quick to anger when he was sober. The truth was that he honestly didn't give a shit.

Mindy saw his irritation and lack of guilt. She was very weary of things she said because she didn't want him to distance himself. "I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."

"I just thought that, if you met Charlie, you would understand." He only ever wanted someone to understand. He was tired of being pushed around and put down. He didn't want to be alone anymore. Admittedly, that played a heavy part as to why he was so eager to introduce Mindy to Charlie.

"I'm stuck somewhere between understanding and worrying."

"Fair enough. I'm stuck somewhere between wanting to be like this forever and wishing I wasn't. I guess the hard part is deciding which side of the fence to jump off on."

"Fuck this conversation," Mindy said suddenly. "Let's go look at the toys."

Drake's eyes widened, and a huge smile appeared. A grin always cracked on his face when he heard the girl curse because it was so unusual. He loved her randomness, and he was pretty sure that he found something new in her to fall in love with each day he spent with her.

Drake's Journal Entry

Fuckin CCC's didn't work. Fuck

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuckitty Fuck. I just wanna go home and sleep off my anger, but Mindy won't let me wallow in self pity right now. She's driving us to Gem's house, and we're suposed to have "good, drug-free fun." The fuck does that even mean?

I think I can spell pretty good when I'm writeing. I just never care to when I'm texting because that takes forever. Ringo Starr carn't spel. If you don't understand, then get out of my life.

I'll just fuckin sleep at Gem's. I've never been to his house befor. Oh wait. I have so. That first party I broght Mindy to. I think that was Gemini's house. Good. Going some where new without Charlie makes me nervous. Mabey we should get a can. He'll go for that. Fuckin Mindy's tryin to be a good influence friend all of a sudden.

I started getting really paranoid about when I had those Triple C's on the counter earlier and my dad walked in. I feel like, did he see them? Of course he wouldn't mention it in front of Mindy. Now I'm kinda scared to go home. Especially now that they didn't even work because then I'd actually have to face him sober. God, he will kill me for still using. Mabey I'm just freakin myself out. Surly he would've pulled me aside and quietly beat my ass. Fuckin dick.

I just feel like he of all people should understand my addiction problem because he's an alcoholic. Like, why is mine any different? He just makes me wanna stay fucked up every time I see him.

I wanna stop.

I don't wanna stop.

I wanna stop. I don't wanna stop. I wanna stop. I don't wanna stop.

He loves me. He loves me not.

I'm being fuckin weird. I need some Triple C's. I fuckin hate myself right now.

Mindy said the black eye is looking a lot better. It's just annoying because its ichy, but it still hurts too much to rub it. I think this stupid scar is gonna be there forever though. It just goes right through my fuckin eyebrow, so I feel like my eyebrow hair is all uneven. I don't know. It's just so embarrassing. He used to rarely hit me where anyone could see. It just sucks being that douche bag who wheres sunglasses inside and that loser who has on a jacket in the middle of a California summer.

I miss Ricardo. Maybe I should...

Just leave it alone, Drake. He's no good for you and Charlie anyway. Everything's just so fucked right now. I'm losing my friends. I got kicked out of MY band. I fuckin got arrested. I can't do this math shit. My dad's always on my ass about every little fuckin thing I do wrong. I just feel like a fuck-up all the time.

Meelah's probably sitting in class right now. Working on her future. Not thinking of me. Never thinking of me. And then she'll go home and cook dinner for her boyfriend: some successful businessman who treats her right - always surprises her at the right times and always kisses her when she needs it. And then he's going to fuck her brains out. And she still won't think of me.

"I feel sick," Drake said suddenly.

"Are you gonna throw up?" Mindy asked with concern, knowing how the cough medicine affected him.

"I need to go home. I need to go to Walmart. I need to go to Walmart, and then I need to go home."

Mindy stopped the car.

"Is this it? We're already fucking here?" Drake sighed nervously as he looked up at Gemini's house. "Shit."

"Drake, you're acting really weird."

"I think I'm gonna throw up."

Drake flushed the toilet after he was sure that he was finished vomiting, then he weakly clutched his nauseated stomach with one hand. "Oh, shit," he groaned as he watched the rest of the red pills swirl down the drain. "God damn it!" he exclaimed quietly. He slid his back down the wall and plopped onto the floor, gripping his hair in fists.

When he'd started thinking about Meelah and the fact that she probably had some other guy's dick in her mouth every night, several emotions started bubbling up inside of him. Usually, Charlie would get him through these times, and he wouldn't feel attached to any situation at all, but now he was sober, and he wasn't used to dealing with things.

He just missed her. He missed Meelah. And seeing her the other day had fucked his whole life up.

*FLASHBACK*

Drake's gentle lips traveled down Meelah's stomach, across her belly button, and continued moving even lower. The girl giggled, then pulled him back up to her lips and connected them with his.

"I gotta go make sure the water's not running over," the girl said, pulling away only a little.

"Oh, shit, I forgot you were about to take a bath," Drake slurred, for he'd taken two and a half boxes of Triple C's at one time and hadn't even thrown up.

He rolled off of her, then laid there dazed with a smile as she got out of bed, her body unclothed. She disappeared into the hotel bathroom.

Drake reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone. He'd heard it alert him that he'd received a text earlier, but he'd ignored it because he and Meelah had been "busy."

Josh: Are you coming home tonight? Mom wants to know where you are.

Drake: staiyn juiops

Drake's vision was too blurry to really see the keyboard, but as far as he knew, he'd typed pretty well, telling Josh that he was spending the night at Julio's house.

Meelah appeared at the bathroom door with a smirk on her face. "Ya coming?"

Drake put his phone down and got up. He stumbled over to the bathroom. She was already in the tub when he got there, which was filled with water and bubbles. He climbed in and leaned against the opposite end so that he faced her.

"Who was on the phone?" Meelah asked, her eyes droopy and her words slurring as well.

"Just my side chick asking if I'm coming over tonight."

Meelah smiled, then got on her knees on top of him, straddling him. She leaned down and pushed her lips against his gently. "And what'd you tell her?" she said between kisses.

Drake slid his hands up her thighs and stopped when he reached her waist to pulled her closer. "I said I'm busy having the best night of my life with the girl of my dreams."

Meelah moved her lips towards his jaw, down his neck, and across his collar bone. She turned over so that she was resting her head on his shoulder now with her hand placed on his chest.

"Do you ever..." Drake slurred. His half-open eyes stared at nothing in particular. "...think of us being married?"

Meelah looked up at him with her eyebrow furrowed. Her heart fluttered. "Do you?"

"...Yeah." His answer seemed to come out more as a confused question.

"You think of us as married?"

"Yeah." Drake was too high to figure out if he should be saying this or not, but he felt like she'd understand because she always understands him.

"You wanna be married?"

"Yeah. Do you?"

Meelah grinned, then rested her head on his shoulder again and squeezed him tighter. "I do."

Drake wanted to smile, but he was too high to use the muscles. "So...we're married then?"

"Yeah," she said. "I guess so."

*END FLASHBACK*

Everything used to always be okay back then. It was Drake and Meelah and Charlie against the world. Meelah always had his back, and whatever she couldn't help him with, Charlie could. It was the perfect threesome.

Everything was great. Everything was fine. Then fucking Meelah decided to get clean. Where the fuck did that idea come from?

She saw things in herself. The places she could've seen. The things she could've done. The person she could've been. Drake didn't believe that he could've been any other person. This was always who he was supposed to be. His craving for Charlie was larger than his confidence in his future, and Meelah's desire to fulfill her potential was greater than her love for Drake.

Knuckles rapped against the other side of the wooden door. "Drake, you alright?" It was Mindy.

The boy pushed himself to his feet. "I'll be out in a minute," he called. He opened the medicine cabinet in search for some Tylenol or maybe some sort of prescription medicine that would fuck him up. "Oh my fucking God." Drake grabbed the box of Triple C's that was sitting on the bottom shelf of the cabinet. No fucking way! It had already been opened. One...two...three pills were missing. Only three. That leaves him with thirteen!

There wasn't a thought in his mind that questioned whether he should ask if he could have them. It was as if the pills were for him because he didn't understand why else they would be there. Who actually uses them for medical purposes?

Drake, Mindy, and Gemini were in the floor with a Monopoly board in the middle of themselves. This had been their idea of "good, sober fun." Drake fucking hated this game, but he played anyway because at least he got his Triple C's. Mindy and Gem were sitting up while Drake had his head resting on the girl's leg. His Triple C's had hit a while ago, and this time, he hadn't thrown up.

"So he broke up with me," Gem said. "All because I have friends who just so happen to be gay guys, and I still go clubbing with them. I invited Rhinestone all the time, and he just didn't want to come with me. I'm not gonna stop having my own social life just because he stopped his. He expects me to do everything for him, and I'm just done. I'm so fucking done."

Drake rolled onto his back, his head still on the girl's leg. In that moment, they locked eyes and both silently agreed that Rhinestone and Gemini would be back together within a week.

"Drake, it's your turn."

The boy leaned forwards and rolled the die. At that time, Mindy received a text. She pulled out her cell phone.

Rhinestone Bitch: come over 2nite

Drake sighed, then tossed his card across the board as he moved his race car piece to jail. "I'm fucking done with this game."

"Yeah, it's getting kinda boring. Ooh, I know. Let's watch a movie. Have either of you seen Repo! The Genetic Opera? It's a musical with the girl from Spy Kids. And if you need a new liver or whatever, they give it to you, but if you can't make your payments, the repo man comes and takes it back."

"I don't give a shit what we do as long as it's not Monopoly," Drake said.

"Yay! I'll go get it." Gemini got up and hurried off to his room.

"Rhinestone wants us to come over tonight," Mindy said quietly. "Is that cool with you?"

"Does he have weed? I can't sit through another break-up story without it."

"I'm sure he does. It's Rhinestone."

"I didn't say anything when he wanted to go clubbing. I let him go. But he was supposed to choose me instead. It might not have been as fun as clubbing, but we could've cooked dinner and cuddled on the couch and watched a movie together or something. And then I went through his phone and other guys are sending him nude pictures. How does he expect me to stay clean when he's out there fucking around with other people? I can't handle that, so I just decided that I didn't need him. Is Drake asleep?" Rhinestone questioned suddenly with his eyebrow furrowed.

Mindy looked at the boy. She was sitting on the bed and he was laying on his side, nestled up next to her waist. She noticed that he looked rather adorable and kid-like in his slumber.

"That boy has definitely fallen for you," Rhinestone said.

Mindy awkwardly laughed it off. "Yeah, right."

"Has he put any moves on you yet?"

"No!" she hissed quietly, but the pink shade of her face told otherwise.

"Oh. My. God. He kissed you!"

"No, it wasn't like that!"

"That mother fucker."

"He said it didn't mean anything. Besides, I'm already taken by his brother. He wouldn't do that."

"He knows that you're dating his brother. That never just slips someone's mind for a split second. If he kissed you, it meant something."

Mindy covered her face with her hands and groaned with frustration. "I don't know what to do. My head's telling me that Josh has always been there for me and he's the first person to ever actually become my friend, but..."

"Your heart's telling you otherwise."

"I think it's a simple decision, but I'm just confused all the time. I keep telling Drake that I want a sober day so I can figure out what I'm feeling."

"But here you are after smoking a bowl. I don't remember him forcing the pipe to your lips, honey," Rhinestone said. "And when he stayed home whining about now having Triple C's, I think I recall you coming over here and smoking with me every single day."

"You're right. I think I have a problem."

"You don't have a problem. It's just new." Rhinestone was always one to deny things.

"That's just it. I've been sheltered from everything my whole life, and now that I'm being exposed to it, I just wanna do it all the time. Like, I was at Gemini's earlier, and we played Monopoly because Drake was down about not having any Triple C's, and it was incredibly boring."

"Well, he must've found some somewhere along the way because he was definitely high when he got here."

"I gave him one pill per correct answer he got right on his math work," said Mindy. "They must've kicked in late."

"A reward system. Smart. How's he doing with the tutoring?"

"Don't ask."

"That bad?"

"We've hardly studied. He can't focus without Triple C's, but with them, he's too high to remember things."

"Don't stress about it. He clearly isn't. You just have to let him learn the hard way. When he's sitting in twelfth grade again and spending his day listening to things he's already heard before, he'll realize he should have invested more time in his tutoring."

"But that's what worries me. If he fails, he'll just quit school."

"That's just who Drake is, sweetie. He just lets life happen to him, and he knows he'll always be able to take it as long as he has Triple C's. He's reactive, not proactive. He never makes things happen, but when life throws shit at him, he pops a few pills to cope, calms down, and figures out how to go from there."

"I just wish he wouldn't do that. I want him to actually make something of himself. His band was the last thing he had that he actually cared about, and now he's suddenly done with music."

Rhinestone repeated himself, but with different words. "He got high, calmed down, then he figured out how he was going to deal with it from there."

Drake's strained voice entered the conversation. "What are you guys talking about? You're so loud."

Rhinestone responded. "We're just discussing your future. I think you're gonna shack up with some fat, old woman and fuck your way through life, and Mindy thinks you're gonna live under a bridge and become an alcoholic. Who do you think's more accurate. Go ahead. Tell her I'm right."

"Fuck you." Drake turned over, this time actually resting his head on Mindy's leg instead of beside it.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Mindy said quietly.

"Drake doesn't have feelings. He just knows that he should, so he picks whichever ones fit the situation. Right, Drake?"

"Drake's not here right now," the boy replied groggily, but even through his tiredness, he displayed annoyance in his voice.

"Geez, he's rude as hell when he's half asleep. Can I do your make-up?"

"Go for it," Mindy said.

Drake's Journal Entry

GUESS WHO THE FUCK HAD TRIPLE C'S TODAY! WALMART, MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND!

I think I accidentally might of texted Meelah. No matter how many things I forget, I've always remembered her phone number.

The chair next to me keeps nodding out and turning into people and reading over my shoulder.

I think Mom was putting me on a plane alone in my dream. I can hallucinate whoever and whatever and wherever and however and whenever I want. I just don't remember what I want. Like the old, crinkled wheelchair lady from SpongeBob. She won't leave. Least favorite character.

Saw Meelah the other day. Fucking love her. Did you see me shaking? Did you see the bags and black circles under my eyes? Did you see the dilated pupils? Do you care? She didn't text me back, but I feel like it's because she didn't know who was texting her. I'm confused. How did I get in the floor? Maybe she doesn't want to hang out. It's tripping me out. Does she know my number? Does she know who I am? Do I know who I am?

I'm actually really high right now. The Triple C's I took after doing meth at my house with Mindy earlier might have kicked in. Maybe I didn't throw up as many as I thought I did. MATH NOT METH! 17+7+36=math. Mindy gave me the 4 that she didn't take. 12 is her number. I'M FREEZING.

CAPITALIZATION STOP PLEASE. YOU'RE TAKING OVER MY LIFE. GET BACk on the lines. You're trippin' really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really hard.

Waiting for you. We don't have to fall in love. We don't have to feel the touch. We can do it for the rush. I'm waiting for you.

Rhinestone, I forgot your voice. I want Meelah, please. Josh, don't tell. I'll stop. I'll stop. I'll stop.

Don't forget your birthday on that one day. Maybe Dad will get me that hamster I always asked him for when I was a kid. He's probably hiding it in his closet, I bet.

Rhinestone and Gem, fix your relationship. It's driving me insane. You're bringing me down. Can't handle sober board games and depressing weed highs. How the fuck does Gem not use drugs and Rhinestone can't stay clean? How are they together? We could've been like that, Meelah. We could've tried. You could've tried.

Mindy tried to go talk to her fucking dad. Oh shit. The fuck is wrong with you? You can't even walk straight. Oh my God. She would not listen to me. She kept saying she was fine. I had to beg her to sit back down. If her dad finds me, he will kick my ass. That's all dads are ever good for. A good ass-whooping. And then he'd call my dad, and he'd slaughter me. Jesus, I'm a drug pusher. Mindy used to be perfect, and she's still perfect to me, but I think she's perfect in a messed up innocent devil genius kinda way. I think I've ruined her. I think it's the only way, though.

Definitely can't sleep tonight in case she tries to do it again.

Mindy said it smells like Rhinestone's room and vomit. Haven't seen Rhinestone in so long. Who is he now?

Mindy's Journal Entry

Pretty sure Drake's going to die.

I don't know. I'm too high to know things. It's so hot. I have the air on 59. Drake has on my jacket. He's shaking. I'm shaking. I'm shaking in my bones, but I'm sweating. Why's he so cold? I just asked him. He doesn't know. He thinks it's normal to feel hot because he used to feel hot when he first started doing Triple C's ever for the first time. Maybe something's wrong since he does it so much. Poor guy's shivering under the blanket. But it's too hot to turn the air conditioner off.

I talk way to much about temperature for my lifespan. This pen writes nice in the shadows. How can I write in the dark. Drake likes the dark. Drake likes sitting on the floor. Drake likes leaning on my bed and nightstand. Drake likes the bathroom door cracked with just a bit of light shining through so you can "see how high you are." And I like Drake.

Oh my God, WHAT DO I DO? Why am I so confused all the time? Why's it so hot in here. I think the air conditioner's broken. I'm gonna ask my dad to look at it.

Drake flipped out on me when I got up and opened the door. He doesn't think I'm okay to have a conversation with my dad. I don't know if I am either, but I felt like I needed to defend myself for some reason.

I need a sober day with Dad. Family. I miss that. Need that. Wish Drake could join like Gemini, but there aren't three CCC's in family. That's why me and Gemini are family. We could all be family. Family means sober. Let's all be family, please, Drake?

"AHH-CHOO!" Drake groaned, then snuggled closer to the pillow, his legs pulled up to his chest in the fetal position as he rested limply on his side.

"How the hell do you get a cold in the middle of summer?" Mindy questioned as she brushed through her wet hair. She'd just gotten out of the shower.

"Fuck you."

"Well, geez. Someone has an attitude this morning."

"I feel like I'm gonna die."

"You're not looking so hot either," Mindy mumbled under her breath.

"I'm the ugly barnacle," Drake whined.

"Um...what?"

"Once there was an ugly barnacle. He was so ugly that everyone died. The end."

"Oh. Now it makes more sense," Mindy said sarcastically, squinting her eyes.

"Do you just wake up bitchier than the day before or how does that work?"

"I feel like I can't tell if my words are hurtful or not, so my brain just picks the first thought and goes with it," Mindy said, explaining her lack of guilt and emotion with a monotone voice.

"Second thought. A Charlie freak should always know to say the second thought." Drake sneezed, then sniffled. "Ugghh. Fuck it." He tore the covers away, then stood and grabbed his shoes.

"You're going home? I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings."

"I'm going to the store."

"Really? You think that's a good idea. Drugs just kinda weaken the immune system."

"I'd rather be sick and high than just sick."

"Don't you think you should change?"

Drake looked at the closet and dreaded searching through the clothes and finding something to wear and then actually putting it on. "Too much work. At least I'll go in there actually looking like I need the medicine."

"Alright. I made you some soup."

Drake's body was fully immersed beneath the comforter. He sat up, then gratefully took the food. His mind wandered to when the last time he ate was, but his memory was rather terrible. "Maybe next time, instead of me struggling to keep warm by unsuccessfully adding more layers, you should just remove more of yours."

"Ha. I'm sure you'd like that." Mindy closed her eyes for a moment, then quietly mumbled. "Second thought. Go with the second thought."

Drake forced a smirk. He knew that, had he not been so monotonous, the grin would've come naturally, but now that he wasn't enthused about anything, it had become a habit to force all of his facial expressions so that when he was around people, he seemed like a normal and likable guy.

"So have the Triple C's kicked in yet?" Mindy asked, sitting down next to him.

"Yeah."

"Are you watching Recess? I remember that show." Mindy looked at her phone on the nightstand when she heard the sound of a short jingle. She picked it up and saw that Josh was trying to FaceTime her. "Hey," she said when she saw Josh's face on the screen. She tried extra hard to put some sort of emotion in her voice, but she didn't think it was working out so well.

"Good morning, baby." Josh blew her a kiss.

Drake groaned obnoxiously and rolled his eyes.

"Who's that?" Josh asked.

Mindy pointed the phone at Drake, who was quick to turn his head away.

"Don't look at me! I'm ugly!"

Josh looked at Mindy when she pointed the camera on her phone at herself again. "What's up with him?"

"He has a cold."

Drake set his soup down, then went over to Mindy's dresser and grabbed a pair of her over-sized sunglasses. He didn't care if Josh saw him when he was sick. He felt no need to impress his step-brother. He really just wanted to cover up the scar that cut through his brow and the black ring around his eyeball because he knew that Josh would overreact. When he looked at the mirror, he noticed that his eye was no longer swollen, and he was thankful that it was finally starting to get better.

"Drake's up really early for it to be summer. Are you about to study?"

"I doubt that he's gonna feel up to it today," Mindy said as she realized why Drake, who was sitting next to her again, had freaked out when she pointed the phone at the boy.

"Then he just came over to your house to get you sick?"

Drake spoke up then, so Mindy scooted closer to him so that Josh could see both the boy and herself. "My dad doesn't bring me soup and hold me when I cry about how close to death I feel."

"Why are you wearing glasses?" Josh questioned suspiciously.

"Because these lights are giving me a headache. AHH-CHOO!" Drake groaned. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them with exhaustion. "I really think I'm gonna die."

Josh started to suggest that he take some cold medicine, but he decided better of it when he remembered who he was talking to.

"Enough about Drake," Mindy said. "What are you up to?"

"I wanted to show you something, but now I kinda feel bad because Drake's there," Josh said. "Eh, I don't care." Josh turned the camera slowly so Mindy could see the lake that he was resting next to sparkle with the sunrise.

Drake groaned. "Oh, you asshole."

"Wow, that looks beautiful!" Mindy exclaimed.

"The only thing that would make it better is if you were sitting here next to me."

"Aw, Josh, you're so sweet."

Drake groaned obnoxiously again as a tinge of jealousy pulled at his heart.

"Drake, I can't even have a moment alone with my girlfriend because you're always there when I call, so we're gonna be all lovey-dovey in front of you. Just deal with it."

"You want privacy? Fine. I know when I'm not wanted. I will just go downstairs and eat my soup alone." Drake removed the covers and stood. "I might drink it. I'm really not sure which is the proper term."

"Drake," Mindy said, feeling slightly bad.

He knew he was acting a bit strange, but even after all the nights he spent cuddled up next to her in bed, he wasn't the guy that she called her boyfriend, and maybe he was starting to wish he was. "Uh, just ignore me. I'm just being a dick because I feel like shit."

Drake decided that he wanted the comforter because fuck Mindy and her body temperature. He was freezing his ass off. He grabbed the cover and wrapped it around his body, then he carefully picked up his soup.

"I love you," Josh said to his brother with a bit of guilt.

Drake stopped before he reached for the door knob. Quietly, he said, "You're dad's at work, right?"

"Yeah."

Mindy found Drake moping around on the living room couch. He was - surprise, surprise - watching SpongeBob SquarePants. He glanced at her, then looked at the TV.

"You done sexting your boyfriend?" Drake asked with slight bitterness in his voice.

"I wasn't sexting!" Mindy said, embarrassed that he'd even say something like that about her. "I've never had sex with anyone in my entire life. My first time is not gonna be over a fucking FaceTime call."

Drake felt bad when he realized that she'd taken his words to heart. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I'm just an attention whore." He was just beginning to accept that he liked this girl, and then her boyfriend - his BROTHER - calls, giving him a reality check.

"I think we're spending too much time together. Maybe you should go home and sleep today until you're better. We just keep snapping at each other and saying mean things."

"You made me soup. That's nice," Drake said kindly. He didn't want to go home and chance getting his ass kicked when he was already feeling down. "And I..." Drake suddenly couldn't remember his morning well. Big surprise. But he did snap on Mindy a lot. He pushed himself up tiredly and wrapped his arms around the girl, the comforter still hanging over his shoulders. "I love you," he tried comically, but he expressed his gratitude and an apology in those words.

"I swear if you get me sick-"

"I will make you soup and listen to you whine about life. But right now, it's my turn."

Drake opened his eyes and found himself in Mindy's bed. The girl was writing in her journal and occasionally responding to a text sent by Josh. He stretched out his arms and let go of a moan.

"You're up?" the girl noticed.

"How long was I asleep?"

"At least three hours. Maybe four."

"I feel like I just closed my eyes." Drake stretched again, then let a half-moan/half-groan escape. "Do you have anymore pills left over from last night?"

"Not enough to get high off of."

"I just think I'm gonna take it as directed to see if it makes me feel better. It's supposed to help colds."

Mindy closed her journal and set it down, then leaned over and opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand. She rummaged through until she found the bright yellow box that she was looking for, then she passed it to Drake. He flipped it over and read the directions.

"I'll go grab you some water." Mindy got up and stepped into her bathroom. When she came back, she had a glass of water in her hand.

"It says to take one fucking pill. No way these work."

"Just try it. Maybe they're that good."

Drake decided on taking two pills because he doubted that just one could make him feel better when he had to take forty at times to get high.

"Do you think you're staying here again tonight?"

"If that's okay with you. I was thinking we could find something to watch on TV, and then go to my house just so my dad doesn't flip on me. I'll just make an appearance. Maybe pull out my text book. And then after that, we can stop by the store and come back here?"

"Sounds good to me. My dad's gonna be at work all night, so we'll have the place to ourselves."

"Well, shit. Let's throw a party."

"What? No. No, no, no."

"Come on," Drake tried over her protests.

"No."

"It'll be fun..."

"No. Absolutely not."

Drake didn't push her further. He wanted to keep her out of trouble just as much as she did because he wouldn't have a place to crash every night that his dad was drunk if her father found out.

"I mean, Rhinestone or Gemini can come over, but that's it."

"Gem and his sobriety shit might bring down my high," Drake admitted. "I love him to death, though, but he just won't be on the same page as us, and then I'll feel bad and probably push it on him."

"I'm fine with either."

"But let's wait until later tonight," Drake said before she could pick up her cell phone. He pushed himself up weakly, then walked over to her bathroom. "Just to make sure that Walmart has Triple C's."

Mindy agreed. "Sounds like a plan. So what did you wanna watch? A movie or something maybe?" She didn't have to yell too loud since Drake had left the bathroom door open.

"I don't know. Shit, I guess," Drake said over the sound of relieving himself.

"I have Netflix, too."

"You do? Yeah, let's find something on there." When he was done, he flushed and moved over to the sink to wash his hands, then he entered Mindy's room again and crawled under the comforter with a shiver. "We need to binge-watch a show together. That would be fun."

Mindy thought it was cute that Drake wanted to have a "thing" that just the two of them shared.

"But if I'm not here, you can't watch it without me because that's not fair."

"Deal."

"And I get to choose what we watch."

"What?! That's not fair!"

"It is, too, because I'm sick, and I'm probably gonna die."

"You're a real baby when you're sick. You know that?"

Drake took the Wii remote from her and went to Netflix. "Alright, alright. I'll pick a few shows, then we'll just agree on one."

"I fucking love Andy," Drake said, referring to his favorite character in Weeds, which is the show that the two had decided to watch.

"Silas is kinda cute, though, right?" Mindy said.

"Are you kidding me? He looks like a preppy middle school douche bag. I mean, maybe he wouldn't be so annoying if he cut his hair or something. I don't know." Drake looked up at his dad's house when Mindy pulled into the driveway. He was immediately filled with dread, depression, anger, and fear. He knew his father wouldn't do anything with Mindy around, but even still, he hated being near him. "I fucking hate this place," he said quietly.

Mindy looked at him curiously, but he was already climbing out of the passenger's seat. She got out and followed him inside. He went straight to his room.

"I'm actually feeling a lot better," Drake said. "I mean, I still feel like I have a cold, but I don't feel like I need to stay in bed all day."

"That's good."

"So is it cool if I hop in the shower really quick? I feel like I sweated my fever out."

"Yeah, sure."

"You can just pick a movie and play it. Or you can watch TV in the living room. It has actual channels in there."

"Okay."

"I won't take forever, I swear." Drake grabbed some clothes, then left the room.

Mindy was watching a rerun of House when she realized that she hadn't had anything to drink all day. She pushed herself up and walked into the kitchen. Mindy moved over to the refrigerator and opened it, then frowned. Beer cans lined the shelves on the door, and there was an unopened case on the bottom shelf of the fridge. The middle shelf contained a couple of fast food bags of Martin's leftovers. His name was written on it with a black Sharpie. Mindy also found that his name was written on several other things. The bacon, for instance, as well as a pack of ham, a 2-liter bottle of Coca-Cola, and a bag of red grapes. The girl decided to examine the freezer. She opened the door and found the same name on a half-empty box of fudge pops, several Hungry Man TV dinners, and a bag of frozen shrimp. That left Drake with... -Mindy searched through the items without a name- ...leftover spaghetti, leftover pizza, leftover meatloaf, and Bologna. She suddenly felt bad for her friend. No wonder he hardly stayed here. He wasn't being properly fed. And he'd rarely eaten anything at Mindy's. Why hadn't he said anything? She knew that Triple C's made you full, but they didn't make you never want to eat again.

Mindy curiously closed the fridge and freezer doors and opened the cabinets.

"Okay, so did you wanna hang here for a while?" Drake said as he entered the living room, running his hands through his hair as an attempt to dry it.

"I think I'm actually kinda hungry."

"Oh, um..." Drake searched his mind, hoping that he could recall something that they had to eat that was enough for two people. "We have, um..." Drake opened a cabinet, and the first thing he saw was a can of baked beans. And what goes good with baked beans? "We can have hot dogs." He went over to the refrigerator and found that there was only one hot dog left in the pack. "But I don't really want hot dogs now that I think about it. Grilled cheese sounds good, though."

"I kinda want a Chick-Fil-A sandwich. Or Subway."

"You know, I'm not really in the mood for sandwiches."

"Grilled cheeses are sandwiches," Mindy said. "I think I actually want tacos."

"Well, we can stop by Taco Bell on the way to your house. I'm not really hungry. Still kinda sick."

Mindy gave up with hidden annoyance since he kept resisting.

If I told you things I did before, told you how I used to be
Would you go along with someone like me
If you knew my story word for word, had all of my history
Would you go along with someone like me

I did before and had my share
It didn't lead nowhere
I would go along with someone like you
It doesn't matter what you did
Who you were hanging with
We could stick around and see this night through

And we don't care about the young folks
Talking 'bout the young style
And we don't care about the old folks
Talking 'bout the old style too

And we don't care about our own faults
Talking 'bout our own style
All we care about is talking
Talking only me and you

Usually when things has gone this far
People tend to disappear
No one will surprise me unless you do
I can tell there's something goin' on
Hours seems to disappear
Everyone is leaving, I'm still with you

Mindy turned on her side and looked down at Drake, who was laying next to her. She gazed at him with dilated eyes half-open as if trying to figure him out.

"What?" the boy asked.

"Why wouldn't you let me buy you dinner?"

"You went through my refrigerator, didn't you?"

"How'd you know?"

"Because I know that you wouldn't just suddenly wanna go eat after what you told me the other night."

"Well, then why wouldn't you just let me?" Mindy wondered.

"Because it's embarrassing," the boy admitted. "Not having any money for food. What am I supposed to do? Beg for food?"

"Just ask me."

"That doesn't sound any better."

"You're right."

"I'm just...ashamed of that side of me. Mom and Walter - they have money. I get an allowance there. I can do what I want. Everything's perfect. And then I come to my dad's, and..." Drake shrugged. "I don't really ever bring anyone over there. It's so tiny and dirty and my dad just stumbles around drunk and yells all the time. God, I hate it."

Mindy rested her head on his arm, so he gently rubbed her lower back with the tips of his fingers. "I don't judge you. I don't look down upon you. But if you're hungry and your dad's not taking care of you like he should, you're always welcome to eat here. Don't even feel weird about it. Plus, if my dad notices that nothing's being eaten, he'll probably catch on to me. So you'll be doing me a favor."

At the moment, Drake was neither grateful, nor embarrassed. They were both on Triple C's; they could talk about anything and it would be okay.

The young man spoke. "If you wanna starve yourself to lose weight, you do your thing. But I wish that you wouldn't feel like shit about yourself when you fuck up. It makes me sad sometimes when I think about it."

Mindy was flattered that he thought about her. She seemed to stare at him forever as she thought about whether she could forgive herself later if she kissed him now. While she was debating this, Drake was gazing at her. Her skin turned a light shade of yellow, then red, then blue, then green. As this was happening, the different colors and shadows and just his eyes and mind playing with him overall made him think he was seeing Samuel L. Jackson.

Rhinestone exited the girl's bathroom then and paused when he saw the two snuggled up together and romantically gazing into one another's eyes. "Um, did I walk in on something or...?"

"You feeling better?" Mindy asked, looking over Drake at the more feminine boy.

"I haven't done Triple C's in forever. I think I threw up a hundred times. Oh my God, I forgot how much I loved it, though."

Drake was still thinking about Samuel L. Jackson. "You guys, I love Pulp Fiction."

"Oh, that's a good movie," Rhinestone said as he stumbled over to the bed. He dropped down next to Drake. "I'm so tired, but I'm trying not to go to sleep."

"Let's go smoke a cigarette." Drake pushed himself up.

Rhinestone groaned. "I just laid down. I think I'm gonna stay with Mindy."

Drake decided to grab his journal then as he went outside. He left the sliding glass door open so that he could still hear the music. He'd already had a cigarette less than an hour ago, so the box was still out there. He lit up, then inhaled. Next he pulled out the pen that was lodged inside of the spirals of the journal, then opened the notebook.

Drake's Journal Entry

Rhinestone fucking genius bought an ash tray. We can dump it and hide it when Mindy's dad's home.

Samuel L. Jackson's a bad ass in Pulp Fiction.

We can't stop. We won't stop.

Mindy's the nicest person in the world. I can't believe I used to hate her more than anything. All she does is give. Money and Triple C's and food and a bed and soup. I want my dad to make me soup. Make me soup, peasant! Bow down to me. I think it's the other way around and I was just too prideful and too far in denial to admit it. Why does he think I can take it if he calls me weak all the time?

Things That Are Stronger Than Me Physically:
-Dad
-Sandy Cheeks
-The Rock
-pickle jars

People Who Are Stronger Than Me Emotionally:
-Charlie
-probably everyone else

I think Mindy's a little jealous that I'm smaller than her because I don't eat half the time and I don't complain about it. But I'm too ashamed to ask for handouts. Things aren't like this at Mom's. I wanna go home. She kinda makes me sad, though, that she thinks about herself like she does, but I guess we're the same in that way because I believe I'm all those things that my dad has called me and she thinks I'm the coolest bastard in the world.

*FLASHBACK*

Drake gave himself one last look in the mirror, then he picked up his pile of dirty clothes and tossed them into the hamper. He started to head into his bedroom to see if Mindy was still waiting for him to finish showering there. On his way, however, he saw that the door to his father's room was cracked. Quietly, he tiptoed closer and saw Martin asleep. He gently pushed the door open, wincing as it creaked. He slipped inside, then moved over to the nightstand. Martin's wallet was sitting right next to his keys. Drake picked up the black wallet and opened it.

Drake never took more than ten dollars at a time. He didn't want his dad to notice, and so far, he's done a swell job because he's been stealing money from him for the past three and a half months. A lot of times, it was for food or tooth paste, but usually, it was for weed. He knew that his father would kill him if he ever found out. The second he realized his money was missing, he would blame Drake even if it wasn't him. But he tried to be careful about it, and so far, it was working for him.

When Drake had the money, he put the wallet down and crept out of the room. He slipped the money into his pocket and went into the living room because he heard the TV on and knew it was Mindy. He started running his hands through his wet hair just to make sure that it looked okay before he saw her.

"Okay, so did you wanna hang here for a while?"

*END FLASHBACK*

Drake took the roach, lit up, and inhaled. He calmly relaxed against the back of the couch.

"You want a dime?" The guy was twenty-three and Caucasian . He was a nice, clean-cut guy who Drake had been friends with for a while. He was attending a university to become - get this - a fucking lawyer. However, he'd been kicked out of his house at a young age when he started hanging around the wrong crowd, so here he was selling marijuana to save up for next semester's tuition while working three jobs.

"Yeah," Drake said, his voice low as he tried to hold the smoke in longer. He pulled a crumpled ten dollar bill out of his pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table. He let go of his breath, took another hit, then held it out to his friend, whose name was Roland.

The man declined.

"Oh, I forgot."

Roland didn't smoke anymore. He used to. He and Drake would hang out a lot and party, and he'd sneak the younger boy into clubs. They had a lot of fun, then suddenly Roland was always busy with work and school and Drake was always busy getting high.

"How's school going?" Drake asked.

"It's time consuming, but I'm getting somewhere. I can't wait until I'm done. Then it'll all be worth it."

Drake couldn't imagine working three different jobs. He couldn't even get himself to get one.

"Are you sure you only want a dime? You hardly ever get less than a quarter."

Drake pulled his phone out of his pocket when his text alert went off. "Money's a little tight right now."

"I feel ya." Roland took the bag off of the scale, then handed it to Drake, who was slightly distracted as he read the text. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Ricardo wants me to come over and have coffee."

Drake squinted his eyes skeptically. Is that normal? Do normal, sober people just invite their friends to their house for a cup of coffee at seven in the morning?

"Want me to give you a ride? I'm about to leave for work in a few minutes."

"Dude, that would be so great."

As Drake followed Ricardo into the kitchen, he knew that he should feel nervous. Sober Drake would feel nervous right now. However, Triple C Drake only ever feels numb anymore. Everything was a joke to him, but he was too dead inside to laugh. In place of the emotions that he knew should be there, he only felt confusion. He didn't go to Ricardo's house much when his drug use became more frequent. He didn't go anywhere, so when he was somewhere new or with someone new or doing something new, it tripped him out.

"How do you like your coffee?" Ricardo asked.

"Black's fine." Drake took a seat on one of the three stools that were located by the island in the kitchen.

Ricardo already had two coffee mugs on the counter. He filled one, then passed it to Drake, who thanked him while keeping his eyes low. Ricardo then made himself a cup. He ripped open three packets of Sweet 'N' Low and poured them inside. He stirred it for a moment, then turned to Drake. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

Ricardo was like an older brother to him, and Drake was feeling a lecture coming on. He knew he had to get through it while expressing fake guilt and shame.

"How are things with your dad?"

"Same. I haven't really been staying there much so..." Drake shrugged as if to say whatever. He had two hands on his coffee mug as he looked down at the steaming liquid.

"You're free to stay over anytime, bro."

"I'm not homeless, you know."

"Yeah, I know that, but..." Ricardo sighed. "I just want you to be able to come to a safe, caring, drug-free environment. You know, if things get too hot with your dad or if the people you've been staying with suddenly aren't giving you the kind of shelter you need anymore."

It was then that Julio slumped down the stairs with a yawn, which surprised Drake because Julio didn't live with his brother.

"I just want you to know that you're not stuck," Ricardo said.

Drake looked from Ricardo to Julio, then back again. He stood. "Okay, what is this bullshit? Is this an intervention?"

"Drake?" Julio said, just now seeing his ex bandmate in the kitchen.

"No, this isn't an intervention. Julio, give us a minute." When the boy left the kitchen with confusion, Ricardo stood across the island from Drake. "I'm not gonna lecture you. I'm not gonna try to stop you. I just want you to know that I'm not mad anymore. I still care about you. I want you to be able to talk to me. When your dad hits you, if your friends push you into doing something you don't wanna do, just whenever you're feeling down, you can call me. I definitely won't encourage you to use, but I won't judge you or make you feel like shit if you do. I'll remain neutral."

Drake didn't get this day at all. It was early, he was stoned, and the Triple C's from last night were still in his system. Is this what I wanted? How does this whole conversation make me feel? Grateful? Pissed? Did he say this was an intervention? He's the only one that came? He's the only one that cared? None of this makes any sense. And where the hell are my shoes?! Did I even wear shoes?!

"Why?" Drake said.

"Because I love you. And I used to make bad choices when I was your age. The people that could've helped me shut me out. The only voices I had in my ear were those of the people who were encouraging me to ruin my life." Ricardo quoted, "Funny, that no matter where you are in the world, there's always someone eager to help you destroy yourself. James St. James. Party Monster."

"I've seen it."

"You should read the book."

Drake looked back down at his coffee, unsure about how to further this sudden small talk. He didn't know how to make small talk anymore, nor did he ever have the energy to. "Yeah, maybe."

"I just want things to go back to how they used to be."

"Then you wanna smoke a bowl?" Drake asked.

Drake heaved himself over the rails of the second-story balcony outside of Mindy's room. He was still high from the weed, but it was starting to make him exhausted. He'd been up all night and going all morning, and now he was coming down from marijuana while the nausea from the Triple C pre-high was setting in his throat. He was ready to lay down and watch Weeds with Mindy for the rest of the day. He slid open the door and stepped inside quietly when he saw that she was laying on her side with her back to him. However, he could tell by her breathing pattern that she was awake.

"You're dad's back," he said quietly, giving her an explanation as to why he didn't just walk through the front door. "Did Rhinestone leave?"

"Yeah."

He could tell by her nearly inaudible voice that she'd been crying. "Hey, what's wrong?" He dropped his book bag next to the glass door and moved over to the bed. "What happened?" He slid in next to her and looked down at her.

Mindy pulled the comforter over her head to hide her face and she curled up into a ball. She hated crying in front of people because she always used to put up the facade that she was perfect and better than everyone else. She wasn't too ashamed to cry in front of Drake because she'd done it before and he didn't judge her. However, she didn't want him to see her because she was an ugly crier.

Drake hid himself in the darkness that was under the comforter, too. He didn't push her into talking although that might have made it easier. But he didn't leave, either. And that brought up an emotion in Mindy that she only knew how to express with more tears. He didn't tell her that everything was going to be okay because obviously it wasn't, and he knew that she wouldn't want to hear that. Drake didn't say much at all. He gently lifted his hand and slid his fingertips up her arm, then softly squeezed her into a short hug while leaning forwards slightly and kissing the back of her neck once.

"I love you," he whispered softly, his warm breath bringing goosebumps to the surface of her skin.

He didn't mean it in a boyfriend to girlfriend way. He meant it from one best friend to the other. He cared about her feelings and he wanted her to know that above all else. He had no idea why she was crying. Maybe she was on her period or she got into it with Rhinestone or Josh broke up with her (fingers crossed) or she binged and now she feels fat. Whatever it was, he would be there. No matter how long she laid there, he was going to lay there, too, gently rubbing circles against her back.

"My mom called," Mindy said.

"Oh?" he said softly.

"She, uh..." Mindy sniffled, her voice filled with anger. "She said I was a two-faced bitch for choosing to stay with my dad instead of her." She covered her mouth with her hand as she sobbed harder. Her voice got higher and less comprehensive when she said, "I think she's been drinking again."

Drake closed his eyes and let go of his breath through his nostrils. He knew what it was like to have an alcohol-driven parent. However, his dad was a sick psycho, and Mindy's mother was a name-calling bitch. It was a little bit different.

"She kept mumbling on and on about how she was about to book the plane ticket and she had the room ready. And then I told her that I wasn't coming."

Drake snuggled nearer to her, giving her neck one more peck with his lips and then just leaving his head there in hopes that the closeness and his warm breath on her skin would make her feel better somehow.

"Two-faced? How the fuck am I two-faced?!" Mindy was flabbergasted that her own mother had called her that. She thought it was strange that Drake wasn't saying anything to convince her otherwise, and she noticed that he was more touchy than his daytime self, so she flipped the top of the cover down and turned to look at the boy. "You're on Triple C's, aren't you?"

He didn't even have to answer, but he did. "I mean...yeah."

"And you didn't bring any for me?! I'm a fucking mess right now!"

Drake was caught off guard when her anger became pinpointed at himself instead of Mrs. Crenshaw. "Whoa, chill out. I didn't kno-"

"You're always thinking about yourself." She got up and stormed around to the other side of the bed.

Drake dizzily sat up. "Mindy, what the fuck?"

"Just leave." With a bitter chuckle, she said, "Everyone else does."

"This isn't fair. I had no idea tha-"

Mindy slammed her bathroom door closed, leaving Drake alone in utter confusion. Did he do something wrong? He was too high to remember. He didn't even have time to search his brain, for Mindy opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just really stressing out right now."

Drake stood, then grabbed his bag. "I can go get you some then." He wasn't good with comforting people, and he knew Charlie was an easy fix.

Mindy stopped him before he stepped out the sliding glass door, then she pulled him into a hug. Drake wrapped his arms around her, then kissed the top of her head.

Dear mother can you hear me whining
It's been three whole weeks since
That I have left your home

Drake wiped the blood away from his nose with the back of his hand. The fight (if you could even call it that because Drake wasn't getting a single punch in) had started in Martin's bedroom. It'd moved into his bathroom, and with the last hit, Drake had fallen backwards into the tub, taking the shower curtain with him when he'd attempted to grab hold of something.

Martin snatched the long pole, then wound it back and moved his arm forward. Drake lifted his arms to cover his face, but his father instead tossed the pole to the side, taking pleasure in the fact that the boy had flinched. The older man then turned on the single faucet, and water poured into the tub.

Drake tried to get up, but Martin was pinning him down. He kicked and kicked, but it was near impossible to get a steady footing in the slippery tub.

This sudden fear has left me trembling
Cause now it seems that I am
Out here on my own
And I'm feeling so alone

Drake had managed to get out of the tub after biting down and locking his jaw on Martin's arm. He scurried across the tile floor on a combination of his hands, knees, and toes. Taking time to stand completely would take too long and was a risk, but when he made it out of the bathroom, he pushed himself up. It was then that Martin crashed right into him, catching him by surprise-

Ugh!"

-and tackling him onto the bed.

Drake panicked then, fearing the worst. He flailed his arms wildly. "Get off!"

"I can't believe you tried to steal from me, you cunt!"

"Let me go!"

Martin growled as he fought to pin Drake's arms against the mattress, ceasing any resistance from him. "You thought I wouldn't notice, didn't you?! You thought you were a god damn genius! You tried to pull one over on your old man! HUH?!"

Drake winced at the sound of his loud voice. He swallowed as he looked up at the man who was towering above him. "Don't."

"Don't what?" Martin asked. And then it came to him. He grinned, then moved a hand down to the boy's knee and slid it upward slowly towards the inside of his thigh. "Oh, you think I'm gonna-"

"Stop." Drake grabbed the man's wrist.

Martin shoved it away and clenched his fist tightly onto his son's crotch.

"Ahhhh! Ahhhhhhh! Aw, fuck! Ahhhh!"

"You listen to me. I swear to God, if I - shut up, you dumb bitch!"

Drake closed his mouth to muffle his cries. He was squeezing his eyes shut and writhing in pain.

"If I find another penny missing from my wallet," Martin said in a low, threatening voice, "so help me God, I will tear you ass up so that you won't be able to sit down for weeks. Do you hear me?"

Drake nodded his head up and down quickly. Martin then snatched him up and tossed him onto the carpet. The young man clutched his lower regions and continued yelling out in pain. He wanted to scurry out of the room, but he couldn't even move. He felt tears poking at his eyes, but he pushed them back. Martin lifted his foot, then rammed it against his son's hip. Drake screamed as he fell over.

"You had enough yet?" Martin challenged.

"Fuck you!" Drake thoughtlessly retaliated.

Martin grabbed his hair and yanked him to his feet violently.

"Gahhhhh!"

He effortlessly tossed the boy into the bathroom, and he hit the tiled floor with a smack. Martin stood there with a look of fury on his face that made Drake regret his attempt at keeping at least a bit of his pride. He scooted backwards, stumbling over the shower curtain. When an idea popped into his head, he picked up the curtain rod.

Martin immediately snatched it away, then slung it at his son's rib cage. "What are you gonna do?!"

"Ahh!"

"HUH?! You gonna hit me?! It's fucking plastic!"

He brought the rod down against the boy's torso again to prove that plastic wouldn't hurt him. However, Drake cried out again, then threw up his right hand to block any future blows while holding himself up with his left hand.

"I was just hungry," Drake tried.

"There were leftovers in the fridge!"

"They're weeks old. I was just trying to-"

"YOU DON'T TAKE MY MONEY WITHOUT ASKING!" Martin roared.

"Okay." Drake lifted both hands now as if trying to calm him. "Okay."

"You're an ungrateful piece of shit. You know that?" he taunted as he stepped closer.

Drake gulped. "Just leave me alone. You've punished me enough. You've had your fun."

"Who are you to tell me when you've been punished enough? Huh?!" He took another step, closing the gap between the two of them.

Drake was trapped against the flooding tub. "Stop. You win this one."

"I always win, you weak fucking mistake. Your mother should've had a FUCKING abortion!"

"I guess so," Drake said quietly with tears brimming his eyes. "Maybe that way you would still be eating out her pussy and then having that woman you cheated on her with suck your dick when Mom's at work."

Martin smacked Drake's cheek with the back of his hand harder than he ever had before in his entire life. A fit of rage overtook him as he continued to slap him over and over again. "You disrespectful, wise ass, little-"

"Ahh!" The boy touched the stinging skin gently when his dad was done, hoping the warmth and sweat of his palm would ease the burn. Blood trickled down the corner of his lips.

"Don't. You. Ever. Say anything like that to me again or I will fucking-" A wave of anger hit Martin, and he snatched the boy up, then shoved him into the water.

Drake squealed, for he hadn't expected it to be so freezing. His head was forced under in the middle of his cry, so he hadn't been able to get much air. On top of that, the iciness of the water made him lose his breath. He seemed to be frozen for a moment, because at first, he didn't move a single muscle, then suddenly, his body came alive. Martin lifted his head.

"LET ME G-gllrrglee..." Drake's voice was lost under the water. He splashed as he wiggled about, wetting the floor around them. "GET OFF! STO-ppllgggll..." The next time he was pulled up, he took a deep breath of air, and then almost immediately, he found himself beneath the surface again.

Martin's veins popped out of his arms with his tight grip on his son. He repeatedly yanked Drake's head in and out of the water. He saw the tiniest trail of crimson leave the back of the young man's head, which frequently collided with the hard surface of the bottom of the tub. Martin could tell that Drake was getting tired by the way his arms flailed around less.

Drake yelled out as loud as he could the next time he was above water. It was all so disorienting that it was confusing to differentiate when he was above and when he was below the water, and he seemed to have almost lost his voice somehow. "HELP!" He let go of the raspy screech, but it was too quiet to leave the bathroom. And then he was back under. Bubbles carrying his air supply lifted up to the top of the water. His head felt as though it would explode, and his eyes wanted to pop out of his skull. His body forced him to take in a deep breath. Drake tightly gripped his father's shirt collar in his clenched fists, begging for help. He coughed and coughed, then involuntarily took in another breath while still being held under.

Pay attention to the cracked streets
And the broken homes
Some call it slums
Some call it nice
I want to take you through a wasteland
I like to call my home
Welcome to paradise

When Drake felt the pressure leave his shoulders, he shot up, choking on water. He was sobbing, and of course, that wasn't helping him gather oxygen any faster. When his breathing steadied the tiniest bit, he leaned against the edge of the tub and rolled over it for fear of being dunked in again. His heavy, soaked clothes hit the floor with a splat, and he let go of a strangled sob. His body shivered, his fingers trembled, and his bottom lip quivered. He rested on his stomach with his forehead on the ground, his arms already in the ready position as he used his hands to cover himself from a potential blow to the head.

Martin's voice came out low and terrifying. "Don't you dare ever speak to me like that again. Do you understand?"

"Y-y-y-y..." Drake was so cold that he could feel his bones chattering. "Yes-s, sir."

"And you better fucking have this mess cleaned up before I get back. You hear me?"

"Y-y-yes."

Martin stormed across the wet floor, then turned back and saw his son still laying there. "NOW!"

Drake flinched and forced himself onto his knees to show that he was getting up. His voice was almost inaudible. "Okay."

"Maybe something came up," Rhinestone tried as he got out of the passenger's seat and followed Mindy up the driveway.

"No. He would've sent me a text or something. I was so upset earlier that I forgot to give him the money to get my Triple C's. What if he tried to steal them and got caught? That would explain why he's not answering the phone." She stepped onto the porch and rung the doorbell. "He knew how upset I was. He wouldn't have just ditched me."

Rhinestone did agree with her. He swore that the two were in love, and he knew that Drake wouldn't just bail when she needed him most, right? "I don't think anyone's here."

Mindy knocked on the door anxiously, but she didn't hear footsteps moving about inside. However, she just barely heard Breathe Carolina playing on the radio coming from somewhere on the other side of the front door. The girl put her hand on the knob and turned, but it was locked. She hurried down the stairs and strode around the house with Rhinestone following behind her. The music became slightly louder. When she found Drake's window, she peeked inside and saw her best friend limply sprawled out on the floor next to a puddle of red-colored vomit.

"Oh, shit." Rhinestone said, his face suddenly filled with fear and worry.

Mindy pushed at the window, and thankfully, it was unlocked. "Lift me up. Lift me up."

Rhinestone cupped his hands together, and Mindy stepped on them. She wobbly pulled herself up, and she climbed through the opening. The window wasn't too high up, so Rhinestone jumped up and slid through head-first.

"He's breathing," Mindy said.

Rhinestone pushed himself up and moved over to the two, careful to avoid the vomit, which was red from the Triple C's.

"Should we call an ambulance?" she asked.

"Not yet. See if you can find out what he took and how many." He knew for sure that Triple C's were involved, for there were chunks of them in his vomit. He just needed to know if they had been mixed with anything.

Mindy immediately laid eyes on her friend's backpack. She snatched it up and unzipped it, then rummaged through it. "Holy shit. He took five boxes."

"Drake? Drake, can you hear me?" Rhinestone shook his shoulder violently.

"Mmm..." The boy's face contorted with pain, and he moved his hand to his stomach. He attempted to turn over and roll into a ball, but Rhinestone stopped him to prevent him from covering himself with the vomit that was next to him, so Drake aimlessly flailed his arms around in protest.

"What's wrong?" Mindy asked.

"They're really messing with his stomach, but I think it'll all pass as he comes down. Everything should be okay unless he started seizing."

"Seizing?!" Mindy felt that familiar panic rising up her throat. Didn't she just go through this with Rhinestone?

"He'll be fine. I've taken several boxes at once before."

"Five boxes. That's...eighty pills. Jesus, Drake, are you fucking kidding me?"

"You wanna see if there's a small trash can in the bathroom in case he has to throw up again? And maybe get a towel so we can clean this up." After Mindy left the room, Rhinestone stood, then hefted Drake to his feet and laid him down on the bed. He removed the boy's puke-covered shirt.

"Dad...don't..."

"Rhinestone," the boy said, identifying himself. "I'm just trying to get you cleaned up." He tossed the shirt to the side and looked down at his friend. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Drake's torso was covered in bruises, and the sight of it made Rhinestone's heart drop out of his ass and a sickness fill his stomach. He knew. He knew what was happening and he knew who was doing it. It broke his heart to know what his friend had been going through and how alone he must've felt having to keep it all to himself. That is, himself and Charlie.

Rhinestone moved over to the dresser before Mindy could come back and find Drake this way. The top drawer was filled with underwear. The next drawer he opened contained his tee shirts. Rhinestone grabbed one and helped his friend put it on.

"Ah!" Drake curled up on his side and pulled his knees to his chest. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Gah! My fucking stomach!"

"You'll be okay. Just hang in there," Rhinestone soothed. "Do you remember what time you took the pills?"

"Mmm..."

Mindy walked back into the room then. "Okay, I found some spray to clean the floor with."

"Drake, how long ago did you take them?"

"It's too cold to think." Drake shivered even though he was covered in sweat.

Rhinestone saw the sickened look on Drake's face and grabbed the trash can. He put it next to the bed just in time for the boy to puke his guts out. "He's still throwing up some pills. I think he took them within the last hour or hour and a half. He's still got a long time left to ride this out."

"I don't understand," Mindy said. "He never had a problem taking them before. What's going on?"

"His body's not reacting very well to them. Probably because he took so many."

"He was supposed to be getting a box for me. How the hell did this happen?"

"Maybe he was on his way to you and then something upset him," Rhinestone said, sticking up for Drake out of new-found pity towards his friend.

"I was upset, too!" Mindy argued.

"He's an addict," Rhinestone said. "He doesn't give two fucks about anyone else's needs because he'll always think that he needs it more. He probably felt bad about leaving you hanging, though, and that's why he never answered your calls earlier."

"That's fucking selfish. I was hurting, and he chose to get fucked out of his mind over getting high with me and making sure I was okay, too. I just always thought he cared more than that."

"It's not that he loves Charlie more than you. He doesn't. He just needs Charlie more. It's never fair when you think the addict made the choice. There are chemicals in his brain that make him do this. He needs it."

"I don't understand how you're sticking up for him right now. It was a stupid move, and he could've died."

"Because I get it. I've been there."

"It makes no sense," Mindy said. "Why would he choose to get too high to stay conscious over feeling a good high and spending the day having fun with me?"

"Let's just be supportive right now and help him through this, and we'll ask questions later."

It was just Drake and Rhinestone now. Mindy had left. She was pissed, yeah. But she was more scared than anything. She hated seeing her best friend in so much pain, and she couldn't bear to see him like this. Part of her, however, felt that he deserved it for being so stupid and taking so fucking many. She wasn't sure how to feel about the whole mess, so the situation irritated her.

Drake rested on his side with one hand clutching his stomach and the other tightly gripping the bed sheets and tugging them until they slipped off the corners of the mattress. Tears escaped his eyes and dripped down his face. "I just wanna fucking die."

Rhinestone sat down next to him and rubbed his back. "It'll be over soon, honey."

"I feel like I'm having a baby." Drake pulled his knees closer to his chest. "Ah! Where's Mindy?"

"She left."

"She's fucking pissed. She hates me."

"She's really upset, yeah. But I'm sure you two can talk it out."

"God, I'm the worst friend. She was hurting, and I just fucking ignored it. She'll never speak to me again."

"Of course she will," Rhinestone said. "You're just too high right now to think clearly."

"Ugh, God, I feel like shit."

Rhinestone detected that Drake's tears were now not only caused by his stomach pain alone. There was something else. The feminine boy felt bad. He knew that Drake was too high to think straight, so half the things that he was upset about weren't even happening in reality. Rhinestone laid down next to his friend and wrapped his arm around him for support. He slipped his hand under Drake's shirt and placed his palm on the boy's stomach in hopes that the warmth of his skin would soothe the ache. Drake didn't fight it. He was desperate enough for anything. Rhinestone spoke softly, sharing stories about his family, how he had been clean for exactly four days, eighteen hours, and twenty three minutes, his favorite Christmas, how he and Gemini met, and what it was like to come out of the closet. And then finally, Drake fell asleep.

Mindy set the hair brush down, then examined herself in the mirror. She wasn't one who usually wore make-up, but maybe she'd look better? Her face was starting to break out because of the stress and the sweat that always coated her skin every night that she did Triple C's. Her lips were chapped. Her eyes looked tired and dark and bloodshot. She glanced at her blow-dried hair and counted five, six, seven split ends right off the bat. She rarely smiled anymore even when she was having plenty of fun, and her default facial expression was boring and lifeless.

She sighed with dissatisfaction and opened her bathroom door. And sitting on her bed, hanging his head and twiddling his thumbs, was none other than Drake.

He looked up when he heard the door open, then he stood. "Mindy, I'm such an idiot."

"What are you doing here?" She didn't look happy to see him, but then again, she never exactly looked happy anymore. Her facial muscles were practically dead these days.

"I completely fucked you over, and I'm sorry."

"What the hell happened yesterday?"

"I don't know. I was coming over here. I was. And then I got greedy. And I just decided that I didn't wanna share." Drake decided to keep his dad out of it. If he constantly blamed him for things and brought him up, he thought that maybe she'd put the pieces together and figure out what was really going on.

"I was hurting. And you just thought, Well, fuck Mindy."

"I'm a fucking jerk," Drake apologized. "I don't know what else to say."

Drake, too, was starting to lose his looks. Just like Mindy, his face was breaking out. He had bags under his eyes, and the dark circles just seemed like a part of him. He was pretty much sick all the time, for Mindy still kept the air conditioner on every night. Sniffling was a permanent side effect. He also coughed a lot, but it didn't even sound real because his throat would get sore if he coughed all the time, so he just let out a forced, fake coughing sound every so often when he felt like there was something in his throat as an attempt to remove it without hurting his esophagus. Mindy never fully understood this when he'd explained it to her, and she didn't comprehend how cough medicine made him cough more.

On top of these things, Drake was always malnourished, always dehydrated, and somehow perfectly okay with it. And Mindy thought he looked more than perfectly okay. She found him attractive even though he felt that he looked like shit half the time, and she knew that she could never stay mad at him.

She forced a smile. "I guess you paid for it enough last night."

Drake, too, put a smile on his face, then he stepped closer and pulled her into a hug. "Let's just start yesterday over. I'm all ears of you wanna talk about everything that happened with your mom."

"Thanks."

"And..." Drake stepped away and reached into his back pocket. "I brought you something." He pulled out a yellow box, then held it out and got down on one knee.

Mindy giggled. "Oh my God."

"Will you go on a mind-fucking adventure with me?"

Mindy often wasn't sure where she was or what was going on around her. The Triple C's she'd taken were causing her brain to wander for a while about the craziest things that she'd never before thought about, and when she realized what she was doing in the present, she never could recall what far out epiphany she had just had moments before. And this time when she came back to reality, she found herself lying in the grass in her backyard with the stars above her. Drake, too, was above her, and his lips were pushed against hers. It was okay, though. It felt right at the moment. They could talk things out later. Right now, they were free. Free from sadness, pain, anger, responsibility, the fear of failure, relationship bondage. They were free of everything. Together.

She didn't remember when he'd first leaned in and kissed her, but it felt like an eternity ago. Mindy wanted to freeze that moment and stay there; just herself, Drake, and Charlie. Forever.

Author's Note: I know I'm taking for-fucking-ever to get through this story, but I appreciate all of the reviews, and I would love for all of you anonymous reviewers to get an account so that I can actually have a conversation with you about any ideas or things that you wanna see happen, etc. Your constant support pushes me to write. And to the person who wrote me that long ass review, you got me out of a writer's block (which I get frequently) and I just love you because I feel like you understand everything that I'm trying to accomplish by writing this. You caught a lot of the little details and how I was trying to get the characters across. You're my new best friend.

Anyway, you guys, reviews seriously get me through chapters faster, so please let me know exactly what you think because I feel like people aren't reading this story anymore. And add this story to your alerts so that you know when I update. Thanks for reading.