/21
The Next Day

The night before, Gary, Paul and Connor had come to an awful realisation.
They were out of money, being evicted, had lost their jobs, and worst of all, their stash was just about gone.

Gary had suddenly remembered family that was living in Boston, an aunt and uncle. He hadn't seen them in years, but to his credit, he hadn't seen anyone in years. He was sure that they would be happy to see their nephew, why wouldn't they be?

That morning, the three of them shared what was left of the heroin, saving just a bit for the road, and on foot, followed the directions Gary had written down the night before.
They were walking in a fog, but it was one of the most beautiful, serene experiences Gary had ever had. Truthfully, none of them really knew if they were headed in the right direction, but they pressed on. It seemed to Gary that the fog almost shut everything else out, highlighting their path for him to follow. They walked hand in hand for a while, oblivious to the stares and sideways looks they received. That is, until they hit the empty backroads out of Boston, and into the suburbs.

When they finally reached his relatives' house, Gary felt that he was starting to come down. He knew that there only two reasons for this; either they had been walking for hours, or they had covered a relatively short distance at a glacial speed. Even through the fog, Gary knew that it was the latter.
Before approaching the door, they sniffed the last bit of their stash, naively hoping it would hold them over. He rang the doorbell, not realising that it was the middle of a weekday, and that there was a decent chance no one was home. He lucked out, however, when a woman came to the door. She was older, her straight brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. The smile on her face faded as she looked at the three boys.

"Can I help you?" She asked cautiously.

"Oh no, she doesn't remember me," Gary mumbled through a smile, nuzzling Paul's neck.

Either the woman had heard him, or she suddenly recognised his voice.
"Oh my God, Gary?" She asked incredulously, a hand held to her chest.

Gary didn't respond, temporarily lost in Paul's scent and taste. He didn't remember what happened next, but he did remember hearing the woman call out for someone named Christopher.
"Christopher!" He could hear her shout.
Christopher.

The next thing he could remember was being inside the house.
Inside, with the man named Christopher, and the woman named Elizabeth.

They were sitting in the living room, talking about something. Gary wasn't listening, he couldn't listen, his head was starting to hurt.
Paul was asleep on the couch next to him, and Connor was sitting in a chair in the corner, quietly watching them all.

"Gary, I'm going to ask you again; what the hell is going on?" It was Christopher speaking. He was trying to sound calm, but Gary could pick out the telltale signs of agitation in his voice. Gary thought he might be pissed off too, if some strung out kids had shown up on his doorstep, out of nowhere.

"Jesus Christ, Chris," It was Elizabeth speaking, now, "Look at him, he can't even hear you."

"He can hear me," He heard Christopher- Chris snap at her, before turning his attention back to Gary.
"Come on Gary, talk to me," He said, and Gary thought that he could hear the slightest bit of concern, just behind the agitation.
"Is this about your mom?"

His mom?
Gary internally cycled through what memories he could access of the last few years, between the time his mother had come to visit him in the hospital, and that exact moment. Was that what Chris was talking about, his mother's visit? That was almost two years ago, why would he be bringing that up?
Gary continued to think of questions to ask Chris, even as he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. Before he could open his mouth to speak, his world shifted. Everything around him grew taller, as he fell continuously backward, never hitting the couch.
His vision began to fade, though to Gary it seemed more like the world itself dimmed, and then there was nothing.
Only black.

It was not a feeling he would ever want to experience again.

Falling into a blackness that threatened to completely consume him.
And it nearly did.
It bared its teeth, licked its lips, and prepared to swallow him.
To keep him, forever.

When he woke up, he was told that he was very lucky that his uncle was an EMT. If he had been just an ordinary man with an office job, Gary would likely be dead.
Or still dead, rather.
Apparently that last bump he took, coupled with the severe dehydration he and the other boys had been suffering from for a few days prior, was enough to throw him right over the edge. He had overdosed.

The other guys... He thought.

Connor had followed him shortly after into unconsciousness, but Paul had evidently avoided overdosing, somehow. Gary assumed it meant that Paul had been taking more than he had said he was.
The little bastard, He thought.

Now, here he was, laying in a hospital bed, an IV drip feeding him fluids. With each drop, he felt more and more nauseous.
As he was contemplating getting out bed for a moment, to pee or vomit, he wasn't sure which, his uncle walked through the door.

"They said you'd been awake for a while," He said, as he slowly approached the bed.

With nothing clouding his vision, Gary was finally able to get his first good look at the man in several years. He was physically fit, upper thirties, he dressed well.
Christ... Gary thought, He could've been one of Sam's friends.
He shook the comparison from his head, a bad idea, it only made his head hurt more.

"I had no idea you were an EMT." He said, his voice exhausted.

Chris smiled a bit, "I had no idea you were living in Boston."

Gary winced a bit, from pain and his uncle's words.
"I'm not- " He started, "I mean, not for- " He sighed and turned his head, giving up. He had no reason to lie to this man, and his head hurt far too much for him to think up a suitable excuse.

Chris nodded a few times, preparing his next words.
"You know Gary, I gotta tell you, I never thought I'd see you again."

Gary's brow flinched at the words, but he kept quiet.

"You know, after the- hospital," his uncle continued, setting down in a chair next to Gary's bed.
"And then you show up at my home, out of the blue, high out of your goddamn mind, nibbling on some other guy's neck."

Gary's expression hardened, and he watched his uncle, feeling that he knew exactly what he would say next.

"Then," Chris went on, his own expression changing, though not in the way Gary had anticipated, "Then, you die on my living room floor."
Chris scoffed, "Don't you think that's just a little too much, for a family reunion?"

Gary clenched his jaw, looking down at his hands.
"What do you want me to say?" He asked without an ounce of sarcasm or spite. He honestly didn't know what to say to the man who had just saved his life.
It took dying, but Gary was finally, completely speechless.

"How about you start at the beginning?" Chris asked. It was a poor answer, and he immediately tried to think of another.
"You know, the doctors, they say you're showing signs of long term heroin use," He said, "So this obviously isn't about your mom, so why don't you start there? What's going on, Gary?"

Gary sat up a bit, as much as he could.
"You said that before," He said, vaguely remembering his uncle's words before he had passed out, "What do you mean, 'about my mom'?"

Chris's expression fell, "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"What is it?" Gary asked, beginning to get irritated with his uncle.

Chris took a deep breath, and rubbed his face with his hands, before answering.
"Gary, your mom..." He said, the words catching in his chest.

Gary raised his eyebrows at him, expectantly.

"It happened last month," Chris continued, trying to choose his words carefully, "They found her, uh... in her bed."

Gary narrowed his eyes at Chris, "What do you- " He started to say.
His mind was trying desperately to come up with another way, any other way that his uncle's sentence could end.
The look on Chris's face told him there was no other way.

His eyes darted around the room.
He need to get up, he needed some air.
He ripped the blankets off of himself, and sat up in the bed. He heard his uncle call out to him, but he wasn't listening.

He threw himself out of the bed, but was too weak to stand, and so fell flat onto the floor.
The IV ripped from his arm, his uncle called out to him again, then called out for help, and he vomited on the floor in front of him, before passing out.