"Where's Rowan?" asked Peter, stepping into the boy's dorm, there to remind them that Group was in 5. He did not see everyone's favorite happy, spunky, little Irish though. "Probably in the bathroom. For a guy who doesn't care about his looks, he's in there a couple of hours a day," said Auggie heading out the door. Peter pulled Scott off to the side. "You want to explain?" "Doing his normal thing." "Which would be?" Peter was getting a tad worried. "Um, you don't know?" asked Scott, confused and keeping his voice down low. "What don't I know, Scott?" Peter was also getting a tad pissed off and had started to inch towards the bathroom. "Scott grabbed his arm. "Promise you won't yell, but. he's throwing up." I don't need an education

And I learnt all I need from you

They've got me on some medication

My point of balance was askew

It keeps my temperature from rising

My blood is pumping through my veins

"WHAT?! WHY?" "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh! He said not to tell anyone but." Scott really did not want to be in this position because any way he answered he was screwed. "But what!" "All the anti depressants and shit you guys have him on make him puke for like a couple of hours a day. He said it's probably his body's way of revenge, after all the drugs and stuff." "Uh huh. Well I just catch up and you tell him-" Peter was interrupted by a large crash emitting from the bathroom. Somebody get me out of here

I'm tearing at myself

Nobody gives a damn about me

or anybody else

I wear myself out in the morning

You're asleep when I get home

Please don't call me self defending

You know it cuts me to the bone

Though it's really not surprising

I hold a force I can't contain

The only two people left in the room ran to find the bathroom door locked. Peter rushed it and opened the broken knob to see Rowan lying in the shower with the split rod and shower curtain draped over him. Peter slowly picked up the plastic baggy with the wet cloth inside and stepped over the silver aerosol can that rolled on the floor until it hit the toilet and stopped. Somebody get me out of here

I'm tearing at myself

Nobody gives a damn about me

or anybody else And still you call me co-dependent

Somehow you laid the blame on me

Still you call me co-dependent

Somehow you laid the blame on me

Rowan blearily opened one eye, head rolling against the tile wall, his neck in a noose made from a ripped T Shirt. "Dian duit," he mumbled and passed out. Peter cursed softly and Scott just stood in shock. Somebody get me out of here

I'm tearing at myself

I've got to make a point these days

to extricate myself Somebody get me out of here

I'm tearing at myself

Nobody gives a damn about me

or anybody else

(later) Rowan shifted on the couch. Wait why the couch? Where was the couch? Where was he? The last thing he remembered was- oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Groaning he sat up and looked around the familiar office that was Peter's. Two pairs of eyes looked back, worried and pissed in turn. "What is wrong with you?!" exploded Peter. "A pounding headache."

And still you call me co-dependent

Somehow you laid the blame on me

And still you call me co-dependent

Somehow you laid the blame on me

Somehow you laid the blame on me

Somehow you laid the blame on me