(A/Ns: ya know, it's weird to think about the fact im already on chapter 10 of this shit. like, there's only another 5 full chapters left? anyway! this is now my new favourite chapter, it's the chapter i did the most research on (literally... so much dodgy googling), and i just love the medical stuff i included :D oh, and excuse my britishness when i say "mum" and not "mom". finally, i started college so my time is scarce :")

please drop a review if you get the chance!

content warnings: drugs, smoking, swearing, vomiting, drug withdrawal, minor violence, prescription drug abuse, did i mention drugs, angst, and a ton of crying.

disclaimer: i do not own pandora hearts or any of the characters)

Chapter 10

When Elliot first woke up the next morning, he didn't actually remember where he was.

It was about 8:30am when the light breaking through the crack in the partially drawn curtains invaded his senses, glinting in the morning dew which resided on the glass. And the light poured onto the left side of his face; this alone was weird, as Elliot could swear he slept on his left whereas his window was on the right of his room, which made no sense.

The dull ache in his neck also seemed strange. Then, as he was pulled from REM sleep to full consciousness with an abrupt stir, it finally clicked with Elliot that he was at Leo's.

And Leo is…

Eyes trailing from the floor to the bed on the other side of the room, Elliot had to blink several times before his vision went from blurry to clear. On Leo's bed, there was a heap of sheets, topped off with the pillow.

But there was no Leo.

For a brief moment, Elliot panicked; had he escaped? Left? Gone to get drugs? Fortunately, however, his worries were put to rest only a few seconds later, when the distinct scent of cigarette smoke coming from the open windows hijacked his sense of smell.

… still here.

Elliot, somewhat half-asleep, managed to haul himself up from the deflated air mattress, groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As he passed the front door on the way to the kitchen, he deliberated going to check on Leo first, but quickly decided against it.

If it had been 11 hours since his last fix, then… Elliot wasn't particularly eager to exacerbate his already on-edge temperament.

He was only in the kitchen for a minute or so, making both himself and Leo tea, before said noirette entered the room.

As expected, Leo's entire aura just seemed agitated, and unstable. Complimenting this perfectly was the expression of unpleasant surprise which morphed onto his features when he laid eyes on Elliot.

"Oh. You're up," he grunted, pulling the sleeves of his cardigan over his wrists and folding them over his chest, as he plonked down onto one of the chairs and dropped his face onto the table.

"Good morning," Elliot greeted with a touch of sarcasm.

Leo didn't appreciate the sarcasm, languidly lifting his head and pushing his glasses up his face just a little. His hair fell over his face, as usual, except this time, he didn't seem to have the energy to brush it out the way. Still, though, Elliot could feel the unimpressed glare directed at him, as he muttered an equally-as-sarcastic, "sure."

"You were sick last night, right?" Elliot straight up interrogated, bringing over the two mugs of tea and placing one in front of Leo.

"Hm?" Leo's gaze remained on the floor, as he continued feigning innocence, picking up the tea without any sign of gratitude. But he didn't drink it.

"Last night," Elliot repeated, hesitantly sipping on the tea and wincing at the burning sensation when it touched his tongue. "After you turned the light off. I heard you throwing up. Why didn't you call for help?"

"I didn't need help," Leo said dismissively, placing the tea down again. Wordlessly, he sniffed, trying not to sound too congested but ultimately failing. "It… happens a lot. Maybe… twice a week?"

Elliot tried his best not to appear explicitly shocked. "Surely that would only happen if you were putting something, you know… toxic into your body."

"Mhm," Leo nodded. With trembling hands, he retrieved the loose tobacco and filter paper from his pocket, shakily trying to roll a cigarette. "The drug itself doesn't make me sick. I make myself sick. The drug makes me lose my appetite, and if I've eaten, that makes me nauseous. To get rid of that, I just… make myself sick."

"R-Right…" Elliot said, struggling to get his head around… well, all of this. "And that… doesn't put you off it?"

"Aha, Elliot," Leo chuckled, but Elliot could tell quite distinctly that any amusement was entirely forced. "You really don't get what it's like, do you?"

"Well, I mean… I did a lot of research, but um…"

"Research is decent," Leo hummed, smoothing the cigarette over with an unsteady finger. "But it can't convey how it feels. The temptation to… to escape. And to use despite the pain, or the problems it causes." He paused, standing up and sticking the cigarette between his teeth, but the lingering silence implied he hadn't finished speaking.

Once he reached the kitchen door, Leo stopped, turned back to Elliot, and finished what he was saying, with sincerity woven into his words. "I already said this last night, but… I didn't keep using to be high. I used to avoid withdrawal."

Elliot was speechless.

And now he's being thrown straight into withdrawal. By me.

Great. Fucking great.

In the end, rather than pestering him (albeit Elliot still couldn't see how one could want to smoke twice in 10 minutes), he decided to make breakfast. Even if Leo barely ate any of it, or threw it up – made himself sick – later, he still needed to eat something.

Exactly as it was last night, their food supply was rather limited. Eventually, Elliot was just about able to scrape together the ingredients to make a few pancakes. It was a simple dish to prepare, and by the time Leo returned, he was nearly done.

"I'm not eating it," Leo said stubbornly. He sniffed, sat down, and grabbed a tissue from the box in the middle of the table.

Reluctantly, as he sat down opposite the noirette with food, Elliot resigned to the fact that there was no point in pushing Leo.

Irritability, congestion, shaking…

This was the acute withdrawal. He'd read about this. He was familiar with this.

Nevertheless, despite his protests, Leo did eventually pick up the fork, shove the food around on the plate for a bit, and eat a few small pieces of the fruit at the side of the plate. Seemingly repressing a gag with every bite, that was.

Just as he went to place the fork down, the awkward silence hanging over them was abruptly interrupted by his phone, vibrating against the table.

'Emma: calling'

Elliot admittedly felt a pang of sadness at the fact Leo didn't even address his mother as, well, his mother.

He seemed reluctant to pick it up, but after a few seconds of hesitation, Leo did pick it, up, giving a rather apathetic grunt as his greeting. "Hello?"

It was impossible for Elliot to decipher what she was actually saying, but the noirette's vague responses were good enough hints.

"I'm fine, just tired." Another pause. "No, I don't have a cold…" Leo sniffed, and then shot a slightly concerned sidelong glance to Elliot. "Uh huh… okay. I'll… see you there."

It was discreet, but Elliot still picked up on it: the shift in his expression. Before, he just looked irritated. However, now, the look on his face conveyed… fear, really. And it was difficult to tell, but Elliot could've sworn his shaking had somehow intensified.

"What is it?" Elliot asked, conveniently breaking eye contact when he stood up to clear the plates.

"They, um… they want to take a drug test, because apparently I'm not getting better," Leo said, chewing on his lower lip nervously as he drummed his fingers against the table in thought.

"Oh... right…" Elliot wasn't sure what to think. "I'll guess they'll just… find out then?"

"Hm…" Leo hummed ambiguously, still lost in thought.

"Are you ready to go yet?" he questioned, roughly wiping down the work surfaces. "I can just get dressed quickly, and then we can… go…"

"Sure," Leo muttered, folding his arms tightly against his chest and heading straight for the door without glancing back. Under his breath, and almost inaudibly, he said, "'m going to the bathroom."

For a split second, Elliot grew slightly concerned that he'd gone to make himself sick again. Then he realised that, whatever happened, he couldn't change it, or stop it.

Leo would do what Leo wanted, and there was no chance that that would change at all during his detox.

He just had to hope that – despite everything – he'd be at least somewhat cooperative.

"How are you feeling?"

The walk to the station so far had taken much longer than expected, given the fact that, as the journey had proceeded, Leo's ability to steadily keep up with Elliot had been gradually faltering.

At the question, Leo's expression turned bitter once again. He turned his gaze as far away from Elliot as possible, and answered against his will. "Just cold… and shaky."

For a brief moment, Elliot considered questioning him.

If he'd used last night at around 9:30pm, it had been around 12 hours. Every reason for the acute withdrawal to start, but the stage of withdrawal which caused temperature fluctuations, fevers, and tremors, had yet to come. That part didn't start until 24 hours since the last use – he'd researched this in detail.

I guess he's just… nervous.

Elliot simply brushed it off. They had places to be; there was no use in stressing about the other.

By the time they reached the station, it was almost 10am, and they only just caught the train they had planned to. Sure enough, at this time, moving away from the city, the train itself was deserted.

For privacy's sake, Elliot led them to a carriage with no one else, taking a seat on one of the three-seaters. The moment he sat down, Leo dropped down into the seat beside him, and – without asking – leant over and lulled his head onto Elliot's shoulder.

When the train started moving, it seemed as if he hadn't even noticed; like he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

Drowsiness…

No, irritability is… the acute withdrawal, and he's not…

"Leo," Elliot said, remembering to keep his voice down. The noirette was fairly unresponsive, but he continued speaking anyway. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Hm?" Leo murmured, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. He shifted, and sniffed, lifting one foot up onto the seat and burying his knee into his chest. "It doesn't matter."

"It does," Elliot countered. "I'm the one taking care with you. Surely I should know!"

"Fine," Leo hissed, and that was how Elliot knew he wasn't okay. Because, if he was his usual self, he would not freely answer that question. "I didn't want the drug test coming back positive."

Elliot felt his heart begin to beat faster and faster, a cold sweat washing over him in fear that Leo had done something stupid. "What did you do?" he interrogated, trying not to let his concerns come off as bitterness.

"… -opioid blocker."

His words were muffled by Elliot's shoulder; thus, the first part of the sentence was indecipherable.

"What?"

"I said, I took an opioid blocker," Leo repeated, blatantly irritated with the other's interrogation. Then, he froze, before abruptly swinging his legs off the seat and almost frantically glancing around. "Shit… Elliot, we need to find a bathroom."

Part of him wanted to refuse, and demand that they remain there until his questions were answered. However, the urgency of his declaration told Elliot quite clearly that they didn't have time to chat.

Obviously, whatever he'd taken had thrown him straight into the secondary phase of withdrawal.

"Whatever," Elliot rolled his eyes, standing up and doing the looking instead of Leo, who clearly wasn't in the right state of mind, considering there was disabled toilet cubicle more or less right in front of them, at the back of the carriage. "Come on, then we'll talk."

Leo pretended he didn't hear the last comment, as he stood up and hastily followed Elliot to the bathroom. It was fairly disgusting in there, but at least it was big enough for both of them.

"You didn't have to follow," he said quietly, a light tremble in his voice. Shakily, he grabbed his edge of the sink, his complexion growing paler with every shallow breath.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, idiot. And you're obviously not," Elliot muttered defensively, stubbornly folding his arms across his chest. Then, his glare softened slightly, along with his intonation. "Look, i-if you need me to hold your hair back or something, then… just say the word, I guess."

Before Leo even finished shaking his head, his breathing turned ragged, and then he gagged, hurriedly turning around to the toilet and collapsing on the floor in front of it. And less than a second later, he heaved again, bringing up what little was in his stomach.

Every retch was strained, and Elliot couldn't help but grimace. At the same time, however, he felt awful for the other; he'd never seen anyone throw up so violently. Even watching was painful.

Wordlessly, whilst holding his breath (he'd never been particularly good with vomit), Elliot knelt down behind the other, tentatively pulling his bangs away from his face. And, surprisingly, his efforts weren't totally dismissed, albeit Leo was most likely too pre-occupied with puking to bother with him.

It took at least three minutes for the noirette to be totally reduced to only dry heaving. Once he was, his breathing still uneven, he seemed… exhausted, every hitch of his breath stimulating a new stream of silent tears.

Beside him, Elliot felt really quite useless. But what could he do?

A pained, desperate expression twisted onto Leo's face. Then, a tad apathetic, he shut his eyes, wiping away the streaks of tears.

"Do you want to go back now?" Elliot asked softly, watching Leo, and keeping his eyes away from the toilet bowl.

Unable to speak without intensifying the nausea, Leo merely nodded, blindly reaching up to flush the toilet. With shaking hands, he pulled himself up with the help of the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. His complexion was deathly pale. Well, even more so than usual.

With uneasy steps, he staggered back to the door, pushing it open and almost tripping over it. Barely, they made it back to the seats, Leo pulling both knees up to his chest and wrapping himself in his cardigan like it were a blanket. And from the moment Elliot sat down, he was turned into a pillow again, as well.

"What did you take?" Elliot asked, keeping his voice down. It wasn't like there were any other passengers nearby, but he wasn't exactly willing to risk it.

"I already told you," Leo whispered, restlessly jostling his leg against Elliot's forearm. Whether was shaking or simply shivering, Elliot wouldn't know, but what he did know was that he was trembling like a leaf, unable to form full sentences or even breathe regularly. "I don't know the… the exact name."

"Where did you get it?"

"My dealer," Leo hissed, and if his intonation was anything to go by, he was quite clearly done with this conversation – no, interrogation. "He said to take it if I was ever threatened a drug test. That's all."

Elliot, however, was not done. "Are you sure that was safe?"

"Well I don't care if it wasn't."

"… right." Elliot sighed inwardly; that was the end of that.

Rather than pressing Leo – who was currently falling asleep against his shoulder – for more information which he obviously wasn't going to share, Elliot simply pulled out his phone, and prayed to whatever mythical deity was out there that researching what he'd little been told would give him some confidence that Leo wasn't in danger.

The internet had been of little help, but at least they'd gotten to the hospital in the end.

In the end, half an hour late, having stopped for Leo to throw up in a bush halfway through the journey, and with Elliot carrying the other on his back for the last of the it.

"I can walk from here," Leo murmured, dropping onto the ground. From the moment his feet touched the ground, however, he seemed exhausted, barely pulling himself up the steps. He stopped, his fist gripping the railing just so he didn't collapse, and turned to Elliot, somewhat pleadingly. "Do I have time to smoke before?"

"Leo, we're already half an hour late! Your mother is probably worried!"

"Who gives a shit?"

"Leo, no," Elliot declared, grabbing the other's wrist and dragging him up the rest of the steps and through the hospital doors.

Neither of them spoke another word to each other once they entered the vicinity and proceeded straight to the paediatric unit. Once he'd released himself from Elliot's hold, Leo had led them.

He didn't hesitate at all in his steps. Elliot could tell he'd done this multiple times. There was also a nervousness about his aura, and with a little deduction, it became apparent that this wasn't something he liked to do often.

Sure enough, the moment they arrived at the waiting room, both Elliot and Leo laid eyes on Leo's mother, a worry-stricken glare flitting to the two of them, but primarily Leo.

"Why are you so late?" she whispered, shakily approaching them. "Leo, the doctors wanted to see you half an hour ago!"

"I don't care," Leo sniffed. His attempts at not sounding congested and just generally sick were blatantly futile at this point. Luckily – hopefully – his mother wouldn't know why.

"Go in there now," she instructed, wrinkling her nose before screwing her face up in disappointment at him. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Leo grunted, subtly leaning against Elliot.

"They want your drug test." She lowered her voice again as she spoke discreetly, a light tremble in her words.

"Whatever," he exhaled, shooting anxious sidelong glance to Elliot before being whisked away by doctors.

Wordlessly, Emma gestured to the two empty seats behind them, allowing Elliot to sit first before seating herself beside him. Awkwardness hung between them, but not for long.

"What's… wrong with him?" she asked, and then immediately shook her head at herself. "No, never mind. He obviously trusts you more than me."

"I…" Elliot stammered. Guilt overwhelmed him at the thought of lying to her about her own son, but for Leo's sake, he had no choice. "I think he's just sick."

A slightly sad, but mostly warm smile was sent his way. "I hope so…"

Part of him wanted to tell her. She was his mother – she deserved to know the truth. Who was he to keep things from her? He also felt awful for her. The feeling of knowing that your own son hated you was one Elliot couldn't even fathom.

The two sat in silence for at least 10 minutes, before finally, one of the doctors – he presumed – came out into the waiting room, and straight over to where they sat. "Emma, and…?"

Elliot's mouth dropped open to introduce himself, but before he got the chance to reply, Emma introduced him.

"Elliot, he's Leo's friend," she said, smiling at him again. Elliot knew, however, that the smile was forced. "He can come in with us. Leo is more likely to speak if he's there… I think."

"Very well." The doctor seemed somewhat put off by that, but nevertheless still willingly led the two into another private room.

Sterile like every other place in the hospital, the room was minimal. Other than a couple of sofas and a window, there wasn't much else, spare a mostly empty bookshelf with a few medical books leaned up against each other in no pattern. Elliot presumed it was some sort of therapy room.

He and Emma both took a seat on the sofa, awkwardly waiting for the doctor to say something. Instead, however, he traipsed over to the bookshelf, pulling off a large blue book entitled "DSM-5". With the book tucked under his arm, he finally sat down, folding one leg over his knee and extending a hand to Elliot.

"I forgot to introduce myself," he said, smiling at Elliot as the other returned the handshake hesitantly. "I'm a Psychiatrist at the hospital here who works closely with Emma and her son."

"It's, uh… nice to meet you."

The doctor opened the book, his gaze darting between the contents page and Elliot. "Pardon me if I seem rude, but I recognise you from somewhere."

"Oh, well, um… I'm a child of the Nightray family…" Elliot said, trying not to sound overly modest as he casually flaunted his family name. "They're prevalent in the medical field."

"Ah, of course. That must be it," he said, once again shooting him a friendly, genuine smile. "Now, Emma: the drug test."

Nervously, Emma nodded. "Where is he now?"

"Currently, one of my colleagues is just asking him a few questions. After a little bit of pushing, we were able to take a urine sample," he explained, taking a deep breath. "The results came back clean. However… he is exhibiting signs of drug withdrawal, and we are not sure why. Do you… know anything about this? Either of you?"

"No, he…" she sniffed, visibly fighting back tears. "He doesn't really speak to me about… anything, really."

Immediately, when both questioning stares turned to him, Elliot shook his head, and shrugged. He had never been a very good liar.

"Hm…" he hummed in thought, tapping the pen against the side of the book. "He still smokes? Regularly?"

Despite shifting uncomfortably, Emma still nodded. "He started a new school a while ago, so I don't know if he still does as much, but…"

The doctor glanced quizzically at Elliot. "You attend school with him?"

"Um, yes…"

"Would you say he smokes… heavily? Or during school hours?"

Elliot remained totally silent.

"Don't worry about getting him into trouble," he reassured him. "I'm not in the position of inform the school of anything you tell me here."

"Ok…" Elliot said. Part of him still wanted to remain silent. But he was already keeping quiet about the drug situation. At least this one wasn't a huge secret. "Well, he… almost always goes to the field at break and lunch to smoke, and he gets… really quite irritable if he can't, for some reason…"

"Hm… interesting…" he muttered. "Do you notice any behavioural changes from the Prozac? I know we diagnosed him with IED last time he was here."

"He doesn't take it," Emma confessed, sheepishly. Tears began brimming at her eyes; for many reasons, it seemed, and once again, Elliot was overwhelmed with sympathy. Guilt again, even. "I can't force him to, and he just… straight up refuses."

"Um, sorry to interject, but…" Once again, Elliot's curiosity got the better of him. "What's … 'IED'?"

"Intermittent Explosive Disorder," the doctor recalled, flicking through the pages of the DSM. "It's characterised by recurrent behavioural outbursts representing a failure to control aggressive impulses." His focus returned to Emma. "This still occurs, yes?"

She sniffed, and nodded discreetly. "Almost every day, over such… trivial things. But, um… a lot of them stem from money. Cash goes missing a lot, and…"

"I know it's difficult to comprehend, but your son shows very addict-like behaviour. Even though the drug test came back clean, you may have to come to terms with the fact it's highly likely he is at least experimenting with – if not regularly using – illegal drugs."

"I-I know…"

"Alright, my colleagues should have finished questioning him now. I will go and get him, and then we'll have a chat about a few things."

"Thank you…" she sighed, exhaling exhaustedly and leaning back in the sofa the moment he left. Then, she turned to Elliot. "I'm sorry he's dragged you into all of this."

"I… I don't mind…" Elliot said, but laughed regretfully, at himself, a second later. "I… had a very pampered childhood, so… sure, it feels strange to see things like this, but… I'm… intrigued, I guess."

"If he ever becomes too much, I just want you to know that you can walk away-"

"It's fine, Emma. I can handle him."

Flashing him a grateful smile, she soon turned her gaze to the floor, waiting in silence for Leo to return. And, less than a minute later, he did, sauntering into the room and dropping onto the opposite sofa.

Briefly, he shot an indecipherable glance at Elliot, before leaning his head in the palm of his hand, resting on the side of the sofa, and bringing his knees slanted up to his chest.

"Leo, would you like to keep your mum here?"

Leo paused, thought for a second, and grunted something under his breath. "No."

As if she'd expected nothing less, Emma stood up instantly, smiling sadly but thankfully at both Elliot and the doctor. Without another word, she left, leaving the teens alone with the doctor.

"Elliot, are you staying?"

"He is," Leo answered for him, drawing in a shallow, shaky breath. "How much longer do I have to be here?"

"Not much longer," the doctor tried to reassure him, pulling out his clipboard and picking up the pen. "So, your mum tells me you aren't taking the medication we gave you? Why's that?"

"It's addictive," he said sulkily. Abruptly, he stood up, took two steps forward, and collapsed onto the sofa next to Elliot, curling back up against his shoulder. Elliot didn't even flinch.

"We have already explained this." He tried not to sound impatient, but obviously was growing so. "You would be weened of it where the discontinuation syndrome would be virtually non-existent."

"I'm not falling for your bullshit this time."

Elliot froze.

… "this time?"

"We'll have to discuss this next time, and find another solution, since our pharmacist is busy at the minute," he explained. "Your mum also told me that you're still smoking as much? Have you made any attempt to quit since our discussion last time?"

Leo began jostling his leg against Elliot's, letting out a heavy, irritated sigh. It was blatantly clear that he wasn't having any of this, and that his patience and self-control was wearing incredibly thin. "No. And I'm not going to, so stop trying to convince me to."

The doctor visibly supressed a sigh. "You've lost a significant amount of weight since your last check-up, as well."

"Do I look like a give a shit?" Leo snapped, but didn't move. His tone was just bitter, efficiently conveying the message of 'fuck off'. "No, I didn't think so."

"Leo, your health is rapidly deteriorating. The more you don't tell us what's going on, the more we'll have to push and do tests-"

"Fine, then yes!" he blurted out, peeling himself away from Elliot's shoulder.

"Leo…!" Elliot hissed under his breath. "What are you-"

"Yes to what?" the doctor interrupted him hastily, placing the clipboard down and simply listening.

"The drugs, for fuck's sake!" He yelled, grabbing the arm of the chair as support as he stood up, wavering for a bit. Tears were visibly pouring down his face, but he continued yelling anyway. "Yes, I've been using drugs. Yes, I'm addicted. And yes, I know it's killing me! But I can't do anything about it now, and it's your fault anyway!"

Elliot hung onto that last comment as he followed Leo towards the door, shooting an apologetic glance at the doctor when Leo picked up the nearest object, which happened to be a book, and threw it at him. It narrowly missed him, but before the doctor could call after them, they'd both fled from the room.

"We're leaving," Leo declared, sobbing uncontrollably as they passed his mother. "Come on! I'm not staying here any longer!"

"Leo, we can't just-"

"Yes we can!" he countered, kicking open the door. It didn't matter to him that everyone was staring at them in dead silence. "I refuse to listen to more of their lies! I-I don't trust what they say, and nothing can change that! Nothing can change any of that!" He paused, panting for breath, his tears hitching in his throat. "Now please… can we leave?!"

With little choice left, Emma nodded, frantically pulling out her car keys and leaving in total silence.

Meanwhile, tailing them was Elliot, still clinging onto one single thought.

How was it… their fault…?

In the car, things didn't get much better.

First of all, Leo hadn't stopped crying since they left the hospital. Instead, he'd curled up across Elliot's lap in the back of the car, shaking more than the other could even comprehend, and clutching his stomach in total agony.

It broke Elliot's heart to see him in this much pain, really. He couldn't begin to think what it must be like for his mother to witness this, and worse: not even know why this was happening.

Tear stains continued growing on the fabric at his lap, where Leo was crying silently still. And once again, Elliot was left questioning why he'd pushed him into doing this. Couldn't he have just stayed quiet?

Suddenly, he froze, before scrambling to sit up, wrapping a hand around Elliot's wrist.

Elliot registered the urgency, but couldn't figure out what it was for.

"Mum…" he said, inhaling an unsteady breath and clenching his fists. Elliot winced, yet remained silent anyway, allowing the other to speak. "Can you please… pullover somewhere?" He stopped again, suppressing gag and subsequently letting out another strained sob. "I… I need a minute."

Emma, already fighting back tears and a breakdown, grit her teeth, breathing out a heavy sigh. "Yes, ok! But I'm not stopping this car until you tell me the truth!"

"You don't need to know!" he snapped.

"I'm your mother, for Christ's sake! Of course I do!" she yelled, and then tried to gather her composure. Tentatively, she drew in a deep breath, calming down just barely enough to ask one single question. "L-Leo… please tell me, honestly, have you… are you using drugs?"

There was a short, but tense pause.

"Alright yes!" Leo yelled, staring out the window with tears streaming down his face once again. "Yes, I have! I have been using drugs and I'm not proud of it but it is what it is and I can't... do anything about it now! So please, stop the fucking car!"

The car fell silence instantly, Leo panting furiously.

Eyes brimming with tears, his mother nodded, in total shock. "O-Okay… I'll… I'll stop somewhere."

"Thank you…" Leo exhaled, keeping a hand near his mouth until they stopped, which – fortunately – was only a minute after the extremely awkward revelation.

The very moment the car came to a halt, Leo kicked the door open, hurriedly scrambling out of the vehicle and wrapping his arms around his chest. Steps uneven, he hastily staggered towards the hoard of trees at the side of the dual carriageway. Elliot soon followed, flashing a grateful, apologetic smile at Emma before slamming the door behind him.

Thankfully, he found Leo pretty quickly, crying out loud now against one of the falling down trees.

"Hey, Leo, shh…" Elliot tried to calm him, bringing his head to his chest and allowing him to sob into it for a bit.

However, not long after, Leo brusquely pulled away, pacing for a few moments and then scanning the area frantically. "W-We… I-I feel really sick right now… we need to find somewhere more private."

Elliot, acknowledging that most of the people passing by (and his mother) could see them right now, immediately followed, stopping the moment Leo halted, right in front of a barbed wire fence, presumably leading to the rest of the field.

There was a 3 second margin of error from when Leo grabbed the wooden post of the fence, leant over the wire (which was only waist height, thankfully), and threw up, tears continuously escaping his eyes with each gag.

Once again, Elliot couldn't feel anything by sympathy. Pain was an understatement, and he truly could not imagine what it felt like to lose control of every part of your body like that.

It was, unfortunately, quite obvious to both of them that, for the next few days, they would have to get used to this.

As expected, it took at least 5 minutes for Leo to have completely voided the acid and bile from his stomach, leaving him as a breathless, exhausted mess, hunched over the barbed wire and barely conscious. Tears, to no surprise, continued to pour down his cheeks, every sob tugging on Elliot's guilt just a little more each time.

"Hey… let's… go back now, and then we'll… go home…"

"No, just…" Leo panted, screwing his eyes shut and gripping the wire until he stopped shaking. "Give me… a minute…"

Elliot nodded, waiting until he was able to finally pull away from the fence and stagger back in the direction of the car. Part of the way there, he silently pulled out an already rolled cigarette, pausing in his tracks to light it with very little precision. Eventually, after a few tries, he was able to keep the lighter on and still for long enough to light up and take the first, long drag. And Elliot he remembered correctly, it was the first time he'd seen Leo not crying in the last couple of hours.

The two stood, without saying a word to each other, just behind the first row of trees, Leo struggling to smoke the cigarette but managing, barely. Once he was done, he chucked aside the finished cigarette, exhaled what was left, and started making his way back to the car, turning back to Elliot to check he was actually following.

"Why did I tell her…?" Leo wondered aloud, new tears already brimming at his eyes again, his wet lashes clumping together behind his glasses. "She's not… it has nothing to do with h-her…"

Elliot desperately wanted to ask for more information, but even he knew that would be ludicrous. "Hey, shh… you were thinking irrationally, a-and… you still are."

"Good luck to you then," Leo tried to sound sarcastic, however sobbed midway through the sentence, and it sounded more genuine than caustic. "You've got another… 72 hours of this, shit."

"Uh, yeah…" Elliot stuttered, opening the car door again and letting Leo's head lull onto his lap again the moment his mother started driving again. A heavy silence consumed the vehicle, just like last time.

Elliot sighed, and gently began running his fingers through Leo's matted, dishevelled hair, splayed over his lap. His stomach churned at the thought of the next few days.

What have I…

Why am I even doing this?