(A/Ns: strange, but i uploaded the last chapter exactly a month ago. anyway, here we have the Elleo kiss that the last 8 chapters have led up to, and about 5 paragraphs of Leo's POV in this which is truly a rarity.

please drop a review if you get the chance! :D

content warnings: swearing, smoking, strong references/depictions of drug abuse, brief drug withdrawal, prescription drug abuse, references to suicide and family death, mentions of suicide, and the Elleo Kiss (dldr)

disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters)

Chapter 9

Leo's indecipherable stare didn't avert from Elliot at any point as he spoke. "How do you know about that?"

Elliot, drawing in a deep breath, tore his gaze away from Leo, unable to look at him any longer. "I… on Monday, when you went to the bathroom, I went to put your charger away." He shut his eyes; he could feel Leo's burning glare on him. "I-I shouldn't have been poking around, a-and I know that. But I… I found the drugs. And I… I know what they are."

When Leo didn't respond, Elliot felt his chest tighten. The disappointed and slightly ashamed stare was enough to know that he'd ruined every last fragment of trust the noirette may have had in him.

Without uttering a single word, Leo's line of vision fell to the ground beneath him. Slowly, lowering himself onto the step of the porch, he shot an unreadable look at Elliot. When Elliot didn't respond – only continued staring blankly – he gestured to the space beside him.

Only then did Elliot get the hint that he was inviting him to talk.

At least he's… willing to speak to me?

Wordlessly, Elliot proceeded to where Leo had gestured to, sitting on the step so that they had least 3 inches between them.

Neither of them spoke. Instead, for over five minutes, the two just sat in total silence, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering over them like the aura of awkwardness.

Elliot wanted so desperately to apologise. To say sorry. To say he didn't mean it, and that he'd help him – regardless of what happened next. But the stoic, temperamental look stuck on Leo's face made him feel uneasy, at best. He had no clue what he was thinking. Was he annoyed? Upset?

Embarrassed?

"Leo…" he started tentatively, trying to look at the other without wanting to cry. In the end, he reverted his gaze to the road; he couldn't stomach looking at that nonchalant expression for much longer before he would become overwhelmed by guilt. "Those pills… they were yours, weren't they?"

Leo, not daring to look away from the house in front of them in fear of locking eyes with Elliot, simply stared into the distance, and replied as ambiguously as possible. "Mhm."

Elliot didn't miss that discreet, sheepish, and almost unnoticeable nod that came with his mutter.

There was no point in withholding this conversation for any longer. It had to happen. He knew he'd just shattered every part of the façade Leo had been holding up for so long. A confrontation was inevitable. It was times like this he was slightly glad he was like his sister, in that sense; upfront, blunt, and… well, confrontational.

With a deep, falsely-confident breath, Elliot readied himself to speak again. "I… I'm sorry, but… you have to get off them."

"No," Leo flat-out refused, without a second of contemplation. Despite his frantic verbal response, though, his body was still completely motionless. "Not happening."

"You have to," Elliot said bluntly.

"No. That's not going to happen, Elliot."

"You have to," he tried again. "Look, if you don't then… some people are gonna get involved, who… who I'm not sure you want involved."

It was at that point that Leo finally broken his stare into the distance, and locked his glare on Elliot. "Are you kidding me?"

Shamefacedly, Elliot shook his head.

"Who the hell did you tell about this?"

"I-It was only Break! A-And… Oz knows too…"

"For fucks sake…" Leo muttered, almost inaudibly. But the irritation, and panic, you could say, which was woven into his words told Elliot that he really had crossed the line.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Elliot said, tearing his eyes away from Leo. Just looking at him made him guilty enough to give up on trying to be of any help.

"Save it," Leo said. "I don't want an apology. That won't change any of this. Shit."

"Above all else… I want…" Elliot swallowed thickly, nearly gagging on the imaginary lump in his throat. "I want you to do it for yourself."

Leo only snorted in derision at that, rolling his eyes exaggeratingly. "Why the hell do you even care?" he scoffed, grinding the burnt-out cigarette into the ashtray. "This has nothing to do with you, so why do you even give a shit?"

Elliot bit his tongue, and screwed his eyes shut. There wasn't much point in fighting back the truth.

"And sometimes, telling just one person isn't enough. Sometimes, there's only one person you can tell who will give you closure."

The words Break had spoken to him only yesterday still rang fresh in his mind. He was right – painfully right.

And that one person was Leo.

He had to tell him.

"Look, there's… something I need to tell you, and it's not gonna be easy-"

"I'm sure it'll be easier than admitting you're using drugs to one of your new friends," Leo cut him off, his tone conveying a sense of mockery. Patronising, as well. "You're not getting my sympathy."

"I know! Just… let me speak!" Elliot blurted out, and then took a deep breath. "I… I know it's only been 3 or 4 weeks, possibly less, but… you really do mean a lot to me. A-And I mean that. All my other friends were only ever friends with me because of my family, or some crap like that. And you… you were honest, and it felt… not fake, for once."

Leo sat sulkily in silence for a few moments, staring at the bottom step of the porch in contemplation. "I guess… you mean a lot to me as well."

Elliot shot him a questioning look. "What?"

"I never had friends," Leo said idly. "I was too violent, apparently. People would provoke me over minor things, I got in trouble for getting aggressive. And the popular kids don't like the troublemaker from the broken home. They just like the troublemakers who do it for attention. So when I got caught putting another kid in hospital, or smoking in the toilet, I was just… pestered for it. Because, as I said, the popular kids don't like the broken homes. They're too much maintenance."

Broken homes…?

"That… makes sense…" Elliot pondered aloud for a bit. "Anyway, I think… and I know it sounds crazy, and I know it is crazy, but… I… I think… I like you."

Leo was completely silent for a few moments. "Nice one," he snorted sarcastically.

"I'm not joking."

"Of course you are," Leo said, flat-out. "No one could ever like someone like me."

"It seems you're wrong about that," Elliot countered, fiddling with his hands in his lap. "Look, I-I thought about it a lot… and my friends always made comments, and it's not like I wanted to feel like this, because that… that would mean I was-"

Elliot never got to the end of his sentence. Instead, mid-sentence, he abruptly felt a hand on the side of his jawline, spinning his head to the side. Leo's side. And before he could coordinate a response, Leo's lips were planted onto his.

It was a soft, nearly apologetic, but slightly panicked kiss. One that spoke all the words he meant, but didn't dare to say.

Within seconds, it was over, Leo parting and retreating, and resuming to his nonchalant position; like nothing had even just happened between them.

The already-present blush on Elliot's face deepened, as he attempted to do the same as Leo, however ultimately failed at the thought of how sappy his next words would sound. "So, um… yeah, I… I'm gay."

"I know," Leo said simply, shuffling a bit of dirt around his foot. "I always knew."

Elliot visibly paled. "H-How?"

It was subtle, but Elliot still saw it: a discreet wink from Leo, only partially directed at him. "Because I am too."

"Oh…" Elliot said, the mutter slipping from his lips before he could stop it. He shook it off, trying to return the conversation to its original topic. "So, yeah, the… the pills. Why… why are you even… on them?"

Leo fell silent again.

And then Elliot turned his gaze back to the ground. Merely glancing over to his side at Leo was painful; pangs of momentary guilt consumed him. Only for a second, but it was enough. Enough for him to ponder on what wouldn't have gone wrong which had so far if he hadn't waltzed into the equation.

"I didn't intend for it to become a regular thing," Leo said, somewhat defensively, his hair draping over his face to shield what little expression wasn't covered by his glasses. "I was stupid. It was just… some stuff happened a while ago, and I got addicted so, so fast. And then it… turned into another habit, I guess."

"Right…" Elliot didn't know what to say. "I guess that's… understandable."

"Haha. As if you could understand it."

"Alright, then I don't understand it. I don't understand why you'd willingly do drugs!"

"I didn't willingly do anything," Leo said through gritted teeth. "I don't want to go into this now."

"But you're getting off them. No matter what."

"Yes, fine, alright," Leo sighed irritably, burying his head in his hands for a moment. "Look, I've got an appointment with my mother at the hospital tomorrow. Something trivial – I'll slap you if you ask. My mother is working so I have to go in myself. Just, please… let me have one more shot tonight, and then… I'm done. For good."

"Hm…" Elliot contemplated aloud. "Alright. But… you do know you don't have to go, you know… cold turkey. You can ween off them. Break said that as long as you're doing something, then…"

Abruptly, Leo's aura turned sour once again. "You don't know how hard that'd be. Going every second of every day knowing it's just gonna be more and more time until I get what I need. I'd rather just... throw it all out and do it at once."

"Are you sure you'll be okay to go to the hospital?"

"That's a stupid question," Leo snorted, seemingly amused by the other's question. "I'll just be cranky."

"Okay, that's... fine, I guess," Elliot said, still slightly tentative. "So… how long have you, you know…?"

"I don't want to go into this now," Leo rejected instantly, pulling out his phone and turning his focus to that, rather than the conversation. "I don't want my mother coming home to it."

"Right…" Elliot narrowed his eyes at the noirette; he knew he was just avoiding the question.

There was a fleeting pause, Leo still staring at his phone as he spoke again. "Oh… my mother isn't coming home today."

"Does that mean you'll answer my question?"

"Nope," Leo said. "You can stay over, though. For convenience, let's say."

"Sure," Elliot said, pretending to sound surprised. In actuality, he'd been expecting this; he had casual clothes, pyjamas, and his toothbrush, but he'd break that to Leo a little later. Oh, and a phone charger. Because he was not going to make that mistake again. Not that anything could be changed now, or anything. "I'll tell my parents I'm staying over someone's house for a project. They'll… assume another aristocrat, I think."

"Because you're predictable?" Leo questioned jokingly, standing up and kicking the door open.

Elliot frowned, and followed him inside. "Sure, let's go with that."

Sure enough, Elliot's parents hadn't questioned his whereabouts. The conversation with his sister was short, and he trusted she'd passed on the message.

And anyway, even if they did get funny about him staying away, that would've been the least of his concerns.

Their evening together had taken off quite smoothly. Firstly, after Leo took them upstairs, both of them had simply started doing homework, as well as continuing the project. It had been awkward as hell, of course, the lingering tension unavoidable, but at least they'd been able to finish it.

It wasn't until about 7pm that Leo started getting cranky. A barely noticeable shift in his mood, you could say, but Elliot caught on nevertheless.

He guessed that this was when he was used to using. And it seemed that, the moment Elliot questioned if he was okay, Leo lost all work ethic, grabbing his lighter off the bedside table and declaring that they were done with work.

At that point, Elliot opted to wait downstairs on the sofa for Leo to be done. And when he was done, without a word, Leo waltzed back inside, and dropped down onto the sofa next to Elliot.

And lulled his head onto Elliot's shoulder.

It was only then that the memory of Leo kissing him crossed his mind again. Leo probably noticed his little shuffle, but thankfully, he didn't bring it up.

Currently, it was coming up to 8pm. Neither of them had spoken for the past hour, and had instead sat in total silence, watching whatever came up on the TV. The tranquillity they shared was comforting, really, and the fact Leo had yet to remove his head from Elliot's shoulder reassured him that they still had a chance.

He couldn't stop thinking about the kiss.

What had driven him to do it? Why then? Did he like him back? Was it just for an apology?

Did it even mean anything?

Well, regardless of what it meant to Leo, it meant a lot to Elliot. The flutter he felt in his chest was a sensation he'd never experienced before.

It felt… right.

"Did I tell you I was in a car crash?"

… what?

It took Elliot at least three seconds to process that – yes – Leo had just spoken, and that he'd said that.

"Um, no…" Elliot slowly turned his head to the noirette, who didn't move a muscle as he spoke.

"You seemed pretty interested in that photo by the front door when you came here on Monday," Leo said, jostling his leg slightly, and fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. He sighed shakily, like the memories of his recollection still disturbed him. They probably did, after all. "We were hit from side at an intersection, by someone drink driving. My father died."

Elliot had to blink a few times to let that sink in.

He… he really lost his father?

A million and one pending questions sat on the tip of his tongue, but instead of bombarding him with an interrogation which would almost certainly exacerbate his already anxious predicament, Elliot only asked one thing.

"Did the drugs have anything to do with that?"

Leo immediately stopped all movement. Spare the light trembling, that is. "Hm… sort of, I guess."

Another pang of guilt surged through Elliot; his sympathy for the noirette doubled, even if he wasn't interested in it. "You're… still going through the detox though, right?"

"Yes, I… am," Leo hissed, and shut his eyes with another uneasy exhale. "Can we please stop talking about that now?"

"Right, sorry…" Elliot knew he'd irritated him. "Do you want me to make dinner now?"

"No," Leo grunted, burying his face into Elliot's shoulder.

"Hm?" Elliot shot him a quizzical look, but was promptly ignored. "Why not?"

"'m not hungry," he said stubbornly.

"Well tough shit. You need to eat."

Quizzically, and slightly annoyed, Leo shot Elliot a look, before pulling away from his shoulder – breaking their contact – and reaching into his pocket. With trembling, unsteady fingers, he did the same thing Elliot always watched him do, and began rolling a cigarette.

And yet, watching him felt so different.

"Are you going to answer my question yet?"

"You sure do like making things awkward for us, don't you?" Leo commented, neatening out the tobacco along the filter paper.

Elliot frowned. And blushed. "Tch, you're the one who kissed me earlier."

Leo chuckled. It was clearly forced, though. "I did, didn't I?"

Begrudgingly, Elliot "hmph"-ed.

"Which question are we talking about here?" Leo said with an exaggerated sigh, bringing the cigarette up to his lips to finish rolling it. "You're so nosey, sometimes I lose track."

A few seconds passed in silence, in which Elliot sat staring at Leo, who did nothing except fiddle with the cigarette.

"You know…" Elliot started hesitantly with an aura of awkwardness to his tone. "Why you started…" He randomly, barely gestured to the cigarette. "… that."

"Hm," he hummed briefly in thought. "I'm sure you've figured out that my mother doesn't know about the whole… you know, drug thing. Which means I had to keep it all a secret." He paused, and sighed. "I'm not a good liar. Well, I wasn't. The thought of becoming a pathological liar was stressful, to tell the truth. It took one cigarette from my dealer for it to become just… another habit." Leo paused again, but Elliot knew he wasn't finished. "If you think about it, logically, I will most likely be dead by the time I'm 18. That's why I don't care what it might be doing to me."

"Hang on, why are you just gonna… you'll be dead?" Elliot scoffed.

"Mhm," Leo nodded. "Overdose. Or suicide. I'm practically waiting for the former to happen." The sarcasm in his words unfortunately didn't mask the severity of what he actually meant. "And if that doesn't happen soon enough, then… I'll just be left with the latter option."

Elliot was nonplussed, once again.

"Alright, that's enough of that. You know where I'll be," Leo promptly stood up, and grabbed the lighter from the edge of the coffee table where it had been resting. "Make what you want for dinner. Can't promise I'll eat it."

Before Elliot could even try to stop him, Leo was at the door, sticking the cigarette between his lips and turning the handle. The nightly breeze was cool, and faint, but still enough to carry away the wisps of smoke as he lit the cigarette. To call it relief would be pushing it; really, he was just satisfying one addiction.

The other, however…

Leo really wished Elliot didn't know about it.

Bringing the cigarette back up to his lips and inhaling once again, he couldn't help but feel annoyed, taking a step away from the house and dropping down onto the bottom step of the porch. Plumes of smoke drifting from the cigarette and between his lips quickly captivated his attention. A futile distraction from thinking about it.

It was his own fault, anyway. Leo mentally kicked himself when he inhaled again, wandering forward onto the empty driveway as he flicked the ash off the cigarette.

Elliot wasn't stupid. A little dense, sometimes, but not stupid. He should've been more careful.

Now, they were in this mess.

Part of him wanted to give up. Stop trying. Hell, even run away.

However, Elliot's confession had stuck with him. He'd kissed him, for Christ's sake.

Leo wasn't sure whether he regretted that or wished he'd done it sooner.

Because now, instead of feeling like he genuinely had someone there for him, who cared about him, he was outside, alone and puffing on a cigarette like it was the only bit of comfort he'd get.

In the end, Elliot deserved better than him.

After wandering aimlessly and overthinking for another few minutes, Leo had finally finished the cigarette, dragging on it one last time before kneeling down and extinguishing it in the overflowing ashtray. When he passed the threshold into his house again, his senses were immediately assaulted by the smell of food, exacerbating the nausea already present in the pit of his stomach. Nervously, Leo checked the time on his phone.

20:14

It had been over an hour since he usually used, and to say he could feel it would be an understatement. Already, after an hour, the same crawling sensation under his skin returned, yet Leo absolutely refused to let that show as he sauntered into the kitchen, folding his arms over up at his chest.

"Your food supply was… minimal," Elliot commented, leaning against the counter with his face glued to his phone. "I, er, went with cheese toastie, in the end."

"What can I say?" Leo grunted, somewhat sarcastically. "I already told you: we're poor."

Elliot really, really wanted to ask how he got the money to buy the OxyContin, but decided against it; the light tremors from probably 7 hours of cessation was noticeably kicking in. Pushing his temper would be ludicrous, despite the fact these were all questions he was sure he'd get the answers to eventually.

After only three minutes, he was done with making dinner, serving what little he'd made along with knives and forks. Leo looked sick already, but didn't protest when Elliot tentatively placed the food down in front of him.

Sure enough, the two ate in total silence. Elliot struggled to keep his focus off Leo, who seemed to be suppressing a gag with every tiny bite he took. In the end, he was only able to eat just about half of the meal anyway.

"Um…" Elliot piped up slowly, continuing with his meal as he spoke. "Can I ask… why don't you ever seem to eat anything?"

Leo promptly shot him a glance through the glass of water at his lips which blatantly said "no, you can't, you dickhead", but answered nevertheless. "That's just what the drugs do. Occasionally I get really hungry, and eat loads, but then I lose my appetite completely, and that always comes back up anyway."

"Ah. Ok then…"

To no surprise, with shaking hands, Leo began rolling another cigarette just five minutes later. He struggled with the delicacy of the task, and tried to mask this, but Elliot saw it nonetheless.

"I'm not eating anymore," the noirette said with an indecipherable tone, as he kicked the chair aside and shoved the kitchen door out off the way with his shoulder. "You can wash up. I'm going out."

After another of sitting curled up on the sofa, with the TV pointlessly on, it became abundantly clear that this was much, much harder on Leo. Harder than either of them had anticipated.

Elliot had never felt someone shake so much. And how long had it been since his usual dose? 3 hours, maximum?

He wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer; Elliot was sure of it.

"Um… what do you usually do when you're stressed?" he asked, his tone soft, like he was encouraging him to open up, just a little bit.

Leo appeared to hesitate at first, as if he didn't want to answer the question. Then, with his head still turned towards the TV, he answered briefly, "Smoke."

"Right," Elliot deadpanned. "Do you have anything that… you know… won't kill you?"

Once again, Leo went silent straight after receiving the question. The amount of time it took him to process answers was nothing short of concerning for Elliot, particularly since it was so far from his usual sharp, and attentive self.

"Follow me," Leo said, standing up abruptly and dropping the blanket to the feet. He shuddered, flicked his hair over the majority of his face, and folded his arms over his chest. As he began leading Elliot up the stairs, Leo discreetly added another comment. "Because I'm sure you won't approve of snorting Xanax, either."

"Of course I wouldn't."

"I haven't died from it yet," Leo countered.

Elliot mentally facepalmed. "Please tell me you're not hooked on Xanax as well."

"Don't worry, dumbass," Leo shook his head, and Elliot couldn't tell if he wasn't amused, annoyed, or a bit of both.

At the top of the stairs, instead of turning into his bedroom, like Elliot expected, Leo carried on walking, kicking open the door directly opposite the top of the stairs. Elliot had always assumed it to be some sort of utility room, thus was surprised to see a rather dusty built-in ladder, which led to what appeared to be the loft.

"Watch your step," Leo muttered. He didn't let it show, but the light tremble in his limbs made it obvious that even climbing a few steps up the ladder was too much strain on him.

Miraculously, however, they both made it up to the loft. The stench of rotting wood and dust hung in the damp air; Elliot couldn't possibly think why Leo would willingly spend time in this dark room.

When he turned the light on, after blindly groping at the wall for the switch, it suddenly became obvious.

The small space was lit by a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, suspended by a frayed wire. In the room, there was one thing and one thing only: a piano. It was rustic, and seemed authentic. Expensive, as well. Elliot felt a pang of jealously.

"This was the only thing I moved from my old house," Leo explained, the tightness in his throat becoming more apparent with every word. Stress visibly dissipating just a little from his shoulders, he delicately dragged his fingers over the keys. It was immaculately clean, and inherently obvious that he spent a lot of time with it. "You know, the house we lived in with…" The tightness returned. "… with my father."

"That's…" Elliot struggled to find the right words, as usual. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Leo fell silent, his fingers frozen over the keys.

"Can you play something?"

A few moments of consideration later, Leo nodded, lifting his shaking hand from the keys and rummaging through a box of sheet music which sat on the floor beside the foot pedals. His expression nonchalant, the noirette eventually picked one, spreading it out on the music rack and collapsing onto the stall so… naturally.

Elliot felt his heart skip a beat when he realised he was about to hear Leo play the piano again, and he only got a brief glance at the title and composer of the piece before the elegant melody began.

Composer: Yiruma

"The Days That'll Never Come"

How appropriate.

Every note he played merged together into a sequence of broken chords, and the melody truly tugged on Elliot's heart. Because it sounded real, and raw; every emotion he felt was being poured into the piece.

Elliot was so mesmerised by it that it took him halfway through the piece to realise that Leo was crying.

He's… crying?

It was discreet – barely noticeable – but with every end of a verse, another couple of tears dripped onto his lap, or occasionally onto the keys. He sniffed, every other bar, and yet continued playing regardless.

The tightness in Elliot's chest returned and intensified when the piece came to an end, and Leo's last emotional wall crumbled.

With his head buried in his hands, Leo kept his foot on the sustain pedal as he sobbed, pushing his glasses out of the way. His hair shielded his face, and Elliot had no idea whether he was supposed to say something, or remain silent at the edge of the room.

After crying for a minute straight, his voice cracking, Leo finally spoke.

"I can't do this…" he whispered, frantically shaking his head. Elliot didn't know if he was speaking to him or not. "I'm scared of doing this, and I can't… take much more…"

Elliot had never seen this side of Leo.

"Do you want to, um…" He found himself struggling for words once again. "… take your, you know… last-"

Before Elliot finished the sentence, Leo stood up, the room falling silent spare the hasty footsteps heading straight for the ladder. It took a little too long for Elliot to realise he should probably follow, and by the time he caught up with Leo, he was already at the bathroom door, all the paraphernalia held in his tightly clenched fist.

Elliot didn't beleaguer him. He simply allowed him do what he needed to do… whilst standing at the door with his arms folded interrogatively, that was. And in the silence, it suddenly clicked with him that Leo probably still had a stash of pills in his room.

It took a lot of mental willpower and selective emotional ignorance, but eventually Elliot worked up enough courage to return to the drawer. That drawer: the one which led them to all this in the first place.

No. Despite how painful it would be, it had to be done.

For Leo's sake.

Shutting his eyes and holding his breath, Elliot opened the drawer. Everything was the same as how it'd been on Monday, including the amount of OC pills and syringes. Presumably, he stocked up every couple of days.

He didn't look when he picked up the pills, and gripped them in his palm until his knuckles turned white.

A moment later, the door clicked open. By no means relaxed and only a tiny bit calmer, Leo stepped out of the bathroom, his hair covering his face once again. Elliot was relieved to see he wasn't shaking anymore though, at the very least.

"Flush the pills."

Lagging a little in his responses, Leo turned his head up to Leo, flashed the other a blunt expression of disapproval, and blinked. "What?"

"I said, flush the pills," Elliot repeated, shaking the transparent bag at Leo and striding over to where he stood, bemused. "What, are you too high to understand what I'm saying?"

At that, Leo's dilated pupils immediately refocused on Elliot, glaring at him with a scornful look of utter contempt. "I'm not fucking high, idiot," he hissed, yanking his sleeves down and shoving past Elliot into his bedroom, going straight for the tobacco and rolling paper resting on the bedside table. "I just feel… normal, and not shaky or depressed or anxious or paranoid."

Elliot was left with nothing to say. Yet again.

Leo, the expression of disdain being replaced with one of fear, almost, vaguely pointed at the pills. "I'm not doing that. I can't do that. Physically and mentally, I... I can't do that."

"I'll… I'll do it then."

Taking two steps towards the bathroom, Elliot began to feel himself grow anxious. Doing this would genuinely hurt Leo, and yet, so freely, and willingly, he was about to do it?

"I can't watch it either," Leo said almost inaudibly under his breath, as he shoved passed Elliot in the corridor and headed straight for the stairs, the cigarette already resting between his teeth. "There's an airbed in the top shelf of the cupboard. I'm sure you won't mind poking around my things anymore."

Ouch.

Elliot would be lying if he said that last comment didn't hurt. But as he dropped the pills in the toilet, and watched them dissolve slightly, Elliot knew that – ultimately – he had hurt Leo more than Leo could ever hurt him.

Sure enough, when he returned to Leo's room, said air mattress was precisely where he said it would be, and it took no longer to blow it up (and for Elliot to get changed into his pyjamas as well) than it took Leo to finish the cigarette and return.

Despite it only being 10pm, Leo still grabbed his night clothes from the pile of clothes by his bed, burying a hand in his hair. He swallowed thickly, and then spoke. "I'd… rather go to sleep, to be totally honest with you, Elliot. It'll hit… badly in the morning. I just… yeah, I want to sleep."

"Alright," Elliot said, sounding slightly exhausted himself.

"Use the blanket over there," Leo said, pointing to yet another pile of clothes and blankets in the corner of the room. Then, he strode over to the door, flicked the light switch off, and slammed the door shut on Elliot.

It fell silent, and suddenly, Elliot found himself uneasy, lying on the air mattress in the dark. He was shattered, sure, his eyes lagging shut with every other breath; he hadn't slept for longer than 4 hours since Sunday night, and clearly, that took its toll.

A minute or so, he heard throwing up.

Well that's dinner gone.

And, barely a minute after that, the door clicked open, Leo tiptoeing across the room without a single word regarding what Elliot may or may not have heard.

Then, when he heard the bed creak under Leo's weight, Elliot finally allowed his eyes to fall shut and himself to drift further and further away from the surface of consciousness. Right before he passed out, however, one single thought crossed his mind; a positive message of hope to send him to sleep, rather than into crippling insomnia.

Whatever happens… we'll get through this.