Okay. Yeah, I know it's been a month…I cannot even begin to express how sorry I am for not updating. One thing after another kind of got in my way, and…well, almost everything here except the first couple paragraphs was written in the past 24 hours. So, first of all, as an apology gift, the BTH playlist is posted on my profile. There are only 8 songs, most of them just about the general theme of the story, and I'm hoping to add more as it progresses.

So, I'm just gonna talk for a little about the things that have kept me from updating, and then I'll let you get to the story.

The first thing that happened was that at a Dark Days event…I met Veronica Roth. And. It. Was. Epic. She was really nice and funny, signed both my books and took a picture with me. So…yeah. A week after that, the 14th, was the one-year anniversary of Black Veil Brides' second album, Set The World On Fire. I meant to take the day off writing, because that's just really important to me, but instead I ended up working on an original story that will hopefully be published when finished. A couple weeks ago I won a signed BVB poster on Twitter, and after that…a storm hit. It knocked our power out for 31 hours and our cable/internet for 4 days. And then I bruised my knee (yeah, I know, it's just a bruise, but it covered almost my entire right knee), so I didn't really…move for a while.

Well, that's that. I'll let you read now.

Quick thanks to trobiasforever, who actually cared enough to send me a PM asking whether I was still writing the story. I very much appreciate it.

Breaking The Habit

Chapter Eleven: Affect

Eric

The aftereffects of taking Instigate for the first time—even a watered-down version like the one that was currently flowing through her veins—aren't pretty. When the high wears off, you're left with things I now only experience during withdrawal. The headache is the worst, but there's also dry mouth and throatache, upset stomach, the constant feeling of having no control over your own body to contend with. I haven't yet seen Christina, but there is no doubt in my mind that she has at least one of these symptoms, if not all of them.

I, on the other hand, haven't felt this good since…well, since my last high, which ended well and truly a few days before the initiates arrived. My eyes are wide open, taking in my surroundings clearly. Blood pumps through my veins at an alarming pace (heightened heart rate is one of the side effects during the high) but I feel so ecstatic that I barely even recognize the danger it poses. I sit alone in the cafeteria, feeling the burn of the drug through my body, for once actually enjoying the fact that I am alive.

"Someone looks happy today," a voice remarks semi-sarcastically, and a few seconds later Asher drops into the seat across from me, looking tired and bedraggled. Her artificially blonde hair is loosely tied at the nape of her neck, and, devoid of the usual kohl rims, the circles under her eyes are more obvious than ever. I can't understand it, how someone could be so upset on a day like this, but leave it to Asher to ruin it with a dose of reality.

"What's your problem?" I ask. She doesn't answer, as per usual, instead leaning around the table to stare at…something. The beat in my chest stutters. "What happened to your knee?"

I hastily move a black-gloved hand to cover the slowly yellowing bruise, visible only through the rip in my black jeans. Silently, I curse myself for not wearing something different, if for no other reason than to avoid her incessant questioning. "Nothing." I can't tell her how I got it, or that I hope I'll get another one tonight…since I left an unsigned note in one of the drawers Christina's keeping her things in. I'm counting on the fact that she'll know it's me, and that no one else finds it, though no other initiate would know about the dead end where we met last night.

"Bullshit. No way is that nothing. Now are you going to tell me or do I have to force it out of you?" She raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and even devoid of makeup so that the tiredness in her face is blatant, she intimidates me, because I know she'll stop at nothing to force it out of me.

I slide my hand off my knee and fold it with my other one on the tabletop. There's no use not telling her, she'll figure it out eventually, even if that means somehow hearing it through the grapevine. I know she can keep a secret. Besides, if I don't tell her now, she'll keep pestering me until I do.

I lean forward, indicating that she should do so too, and pitch my voice low. The anticipation on her face is obvious, and I have a feeling she's expecting something other than what I'm about to say. "I saw Christina last night. Alone."

"Oh." She raises an eyebrow at me. Of course she'd jump to that conclusion, although given the way I worded it, I can't entirely blame her.

"No, not like that." I can't help but roll my eyes at her. "We just—you know that hallway by my room? The dead end?" She nods. "I found her there drinking. We just sat. And talked."

"And shot up," she says accusingly. I open my mouth in a halfhearted attempt to respond, but no words come out. "Don't try to lie to me, Eric Matthews." I flinch at the sound of my (rarely used) surname. Damn her for not being unobservant like most of the other people I associate with. "You're in too good a mood not to be high."

She knows me too well. It's times like this when I rethink my decision to transfer with her. Sometimes it's painful to watch the look in her eyes when she realizes what I've done, and every time I say I'm thinking about quitting sticks in my throat like cement, hardening into bitterness. She can always see right through me. "Okay. I shot up. What's your point? You already know I'm a filthy addict."

"I know. It's not you shooting up I have a problem with." She pauses, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Well, I do have a problem, with that, but that's another argument for another day. My problem right now is that you also shot her up."

"How do you know that?"

She narrows her eyes at me, then jerks her head at someone walking into the cafeteria behind me. I turn, and even my drug-addled brain can register the jolt of shock when I see her—because it's Christina.

I was right to assume that she would look like she felt. Not that she looks bad—quite the opposite, in fact. She always looks good, and I don't know that I've ever seen her look better, knowing what I know about what she did last night. But I can tell by her expression that she has a headache, and probably wishes she were somewhere else. Probably back in the dorm, sleeping it off, hopefully anticipating the next time as much as I am.

Maybe it was a bad idea to introduce her to the dark joys of Instigate right before Stage Two of initiation started.

But it's too late for regret now. Last night is in the past, and neither of us can do anything to change it. She catches my eye and freezes, causing Will, who was walking in behind her and trying to hold a conversation, to crash into her. He asks her something—if she's okay, most likely, because that seems like the sort of thing he would do—and she snaps to, tearing her gaze away from me before he can figure out who she's staring at, before either of us can acknowledge the other. I can't tell whether or not she wishes it hadn't happened. I can only wait and hope she'll be there tonight.

"Hello?" Asher waves her hand in front of my face, grinning halfheartedly.. "Earth to Eric. Damn, I didn't know you'd get that distracted. Okay. Listen to me." She puts her hands on my shoulders. They're small and warm, and they feel like home. "She is a faction transfer. You are a Dauntless leader. Whatever sick little fantasy you're playing out in your head is never going to happen."

I shrug out from under her hands, embarrassed at what she's assumed. Never mind that she's right. "Jumping to conclusions, Ash? Remember, I'm innocent until proven guilty."

"Yeah, whatever. Hey," she says, perking up, "are you coming to the rave tonight?"

Ah, hell. I'd completely forgotten. Once a month, my little group and some of our older friends throw a party in the abandoned building next to the Dauntless compound. It's loud, pointless, and the best time I ever had, the perfect escape from the stress of being a leader, and there are more often than not various drugs involved. It's a massive draw to me, even though the voice in the back of my head knows that I shouldn't be mixing Instigate with anything else, technically not even alcohol. But if there was even a slight chance that Christina would show up…

"I don't know." Her face falls. I feel a twinge of guilt that I've been ignoring her lately, leaving our friendship to wither, though I doubt it would ever die out completely. We've known each other too long for that. "I'll try, I promise."

"Yay!" Sometimes I just don't understand how she can change from happy to sad and back again, like a light switch. But her happiness is contagious, and I find myself grinning, though it feels stretched and forced on my face, especially when I look back over at Christina out of the corner of my eye. "Are you gonna drink that?" she asks, nodding at the half-full cup of coffee in front of me. I'd been sipping on it when she sat down across from me, and even though my appetite has all but vanished, I pick it up.

"Yes." I finish it off in one long drink, ignoring the fact that I've probably just scalded my throat. "I have a feeling I'll need it."