A/N sorry about the huge long wait for this chap, but like, I forgot about this working on other fics, but I'm really really bored in class so I'm posting this. It's almost finished, but like, it won't write because I really really really want the ending togo one way but the rest of the story seems to have an aversion to it...

He heard the sound of the key turning in the lock and rolled over again, pretending to be asleep. He dug hs face further into the pillow, hoping that she would just ignore him. He felt like shit right now. He made the mistake of not buying enough and now he had none. And his body was reminding him that while he acclimated himself to a substance quickly, it was hell to get it out of him.

He felt too horrible to drag himself out of the bed and down the street, to get into his car and wait on one of the street corners for someone to come to him. He could sense her walk in, and he didn't care that the blanket only half covered him, he kept feeling hot, he kept sweating. He'd only been on it for five days. Five days of it continously, but it didn't matter. He hated his body sometimes. The last time hadn't felt this bad.

"Get up, we're going out." He shook his head. "We are."

"I feel like shit."

"Well maybe if you didn't spend your whole time in here strung out you'd be feeling a whole lot better."

"I'm not going out unless we stop for-"

"No. It's one thing to not take them away. It's another to go out with you while you buy them."

"Then I'm not moving from this bed."

"Garret-"He rolled over, careful to keep himself covered by the blanket as he turned.

"Look, I feel like hell, and I'm not quitting, as soon as I feel decent enough to walk out of here I'm heading right down and getting some more." She frowned.

"Can you at least get up and get out? Go find something to do. Play golf. Play tennis. Do something. Hell, go out and become a professor, so long as you have a fancy looking resume they'll hire you."

"Yeah, with my wonderful public speaking skills."

"Practice. Besides it's gotta be easier when you're all doped up." He smiled slightly.

"Are you actually condoning what I'm doing?"

"I'll condone anything so long as it gets you out of the house and stops you from being so damn apathetic. Hell, I'll condone scientology, at least you'd have to go out of your house to jump on Oprah's couch." He gave a slight chuckle, the first real laugh since things all came crashing down around him.

"Then you'll condone one little stop on the way to go wherever you want me to go." She shook her head.

"You do that in your own time." He shrugged.

"There's no way I'm going out like this."

"There's no way I'm letting you out like that, go in there, shower and get dressed."

"No." She rolled her eyes.

"You're worse than a two year old, you know that?" He shrugged and she looked at him. "What'll it take you to get you out of the house?"

"I told you." She frowned.

"I can't-"

"I never said you had to be there, I said I have to make a detour, you can do whatever you want during that time." She frowned.

"But still, it's the whole idea behind it-"

"I'm going to get it anyway." She sighed.

"Fine. I meet you at Mackenzie's in an hour. I don't want to know what you're going to do during that time, but you are going to clean yourself up a bit before meeting me." She turned and walked out and he couldn't miss the disspointed tone in her voice. He rolled out of the bed, and into the shower.

The hot water made him feel at least a bit better, and by the time he had dried off he wasn't feeling nearly as horrible. He looked at himself in the mirror, he really did look like shit. His eyes were sunken in, he was pale, he looked like crap. But he didn't care. He dressed quickly and headed out. He found himself parked on the street in one of the worst neighborhoods, watching the people who walked by, waiting, patient.

Finally one came up to his window and knocked. He rolled it down just a crack and the man flashed him a grin. "Need something?" He smiled slightly back.

"Oxy?" The man grinned.

"Twenty a pop, how many?" He thumbed through his wallet, pulling out the bills, giving the man the two hundred dollar bills that he had on him. There was a short pause before the small baggie was passed through the crack in the window. "Nice doing buisness with you." With that the man was gone and he took a deep breath. He didn't have to worry. He had at least ten day's worth.

He looked around as he gently crushed one pill, tapping half the powder back into the bag, forming the line with ease. He checked once more around him before slowly inhaling, waiting the moment for it to kick in before putting the car in gear and driving to the resteraunt.

She glared at him as he walked in and slid into the booth with her. "I'm out, aren't I?" He looked over the menu with disinterest, he really wasn't hungry, and when the waiter came by he only ordered an appitizer.

"You're not eating."

"Side effect." She just looked at him for a long minute.

"Can you at least try to find soemthing else to do with your life?" He shrugged.

"Like?"

"Like I said, golf, sail, football, tennis, paint, draw, music, something. Find something to do with your life."

"Why do you care so much?" He bit into a mozzerlla stick, choking it down only for her sake.

"Because you're my best friend and I hate seeing you waste away. I'm almost ready to call Stiles on you." He shrugged.

"There's nothing he can do for me. He can try and stick me on meds I won't take, he could even have me commited, which would just completely destroy my will to live." She glared at him.

"You know, for someone who doesn't care, you can be plenty manipulative." He smiled slightly.

"Observation of the year." She glared at him.

"You don't have to be sarcastic with me on top of things."

"Look, I'm plenty happy doing what I'm doing."

"Are you? Are you happy?" He shrugged.

"As happy as you can be when your entire life comes down around you." She ate her food slowly and in silence.

"I just don't want to see anything happen-"

"Nothing's going to happen to me, aside from the fact that I'm going to be quite happy to spend the rest of my life in comfortable bliss." he picked at his food, eating only because he felt her watchful eyes on him.

"You mean you're going to starve yourself to death or die of liver failure within the next five years." He shook his head.

"I'm better than that."

"Isn't that what they all say?" He frowned, she was right. He'd seen plenty of people say they were better than the substance, thinking they could dominate whatever it was they were using, when in reality they were letting the drugs control them, all under the guise of being in control. But he'd done this before and gotten through, he could do it again. It was easy to keep things in control.