Simon's fingers drummed against the kitchen counter. He couldn't help it, when he got nervous, he had to keep his hands occupied. Sometimes he'd fiddle with pens, taking them apart and putting them back together. On other occasions he'd play with a button or the hem of his shirt. Today his fingers tapped out rhythms on the kitchen counter as he tried to make a decision.

He'd had his suspicions for a couple of weeks but Simon was now convinced that his best friend was a drug addict. The first signs were easy to shake off, losing weight and becoming fazed with life were normal side-effects with the job they had. But when Jeremiah started getting the more hardcore clients, he knew. The only guys who were given them were the ones so numb, so ruined that they didn't care. Simon had gone to Mark when he found out and demanded to know what was going on and his agent had just replied in an ice cold voice that apparently Jeremiah was close with Toby and Ian these days.

He couldn't believe it. Well, he believed that Toby and Ian were the kind to pounce on the new, more innocent boys and turn them into cheap skag whores like them. But he never would've thought that Jeremiah would be so weak and let them destroy him.

So he made a decision, tapping his fingertips against the countertop and gazing out of the window at the gray, rain-marked streets. He was going to help his friend get clean even if it meant giving up his own vices.

The stairs weren't moving. Why weren't they moving? Jeremiah groaned and hauled himself up the steps into the apartment. They should get an escalator, he thought and made a mental note to find out who to speak to about that. He collapsed against the door and started rummaging through his pockets for the key, but fell backwards as someone opened the door behind him. He looked up and saw Simon staring back, with no expression on his face, no clue as to what he was feeling. No doubt he was disappointed, that's all he seemed to be these days. But he didn't look angry.

"We need to talk." Simon grabbed his roommate's arm and dragged him into the living room, perching him on the armrest of the couch.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Jeremiah slurred, rolling his eyes. "Because I'm sure we're not actually boyfriends. Anyway, I don't mind because I've met someone. And he makes me feel so good." Simon sighed, trying to decide whether to ignore his obviously high friend or indulge his madness.

"By someone, do you mean heroin?" He decided to go for all-out aggressive. Simon had seen people act like this under the influence before, but it had never been aimed directly at him. It scared him a little, but mainly just made him angry. "That stuff doesn't make you happy and you know it," he continued. "I've seen you change, but not for the better. You've become rude and insensitive and make crass jokes about everything. And that's when you do speak. Half the time you're just curled up in your own world, ignoring anything going on around you." Simon seemed to realise how harsh he sounded and took a deep breath, smoothing out his shirt.

Jeremiah closed his eyes for a second but opened them again quickly as he heard a familiar thump. He saw his roommate on his knees in front of him, looking up with pleading eyes.

"If you're going to blow me, get on with it," he blurted out for some reason. That was it, Simon snapped, head spinning with a mixture of rage and confusion.

"See?" He shouted, not even trying to control himself anymore. "This is what I mean! You would never even talk about sex before and now you're just throwing it out there like you don't even care."

"I don't," Jeremiah replied with pure ice in his voice. "Why should I? Everyone just takes it from me. If it doesn't mean anything to them, why should it mean something to me?"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT LIKE THEM!" Simon screamed, right in the other boy's face, unable to hold back and keep the discussion civilized. Maybe this amount of force would make him listen. "You're not like anyone else, you're special, you're the only one I trust. And now… you're not yourself anymore."

Jeremiah fell silent and watched the shaking figure in front of him.
"So… if you're not going to blow me, why are you on your knees like that?" Simon reached over to grab his friend's hands.
"I'm going to ask you a very serious question and I want you to really think about it." He paused for a second, trying to figure out the best way to phrase it. "I want you to get clean," he said, all in one go. "Please, I'll do it with you, I'll talk to Mark, get you back on the original track. Or I'll help you find a job!"

"Yeah, because that worked out so well last time didn't it?" Jeremiah practically spat out the words. "The last job you got me involved me being fucked by strangers on a regular basis and made me turn to hard drugs to cope. Yeah, you're a fucking brilliant friend" Jeremiah just got up off the sofa and stalked into his room, ignoring the choked sobs coming from Simon and the tears spilling out of his eyes.

The sight of his bedroom sent his mind spinning, bouncing off the now-bare walls. Everything had been removed, there was only a mattress, a pile of blankets and a couple of buckets in the room now. A hand landed on his shoulder but he was too confused to fight it off.

"I wanted to ask you first, it would've been better if you agreed. But J, it's gone too far, honey. I'm sorry." With that, Simon vanished, locking the door behind him and Jeremiah was stuck in a bare room with about 10 minutes until his comedown.

The waves crashed and rolled all over, throwing Jeremiah's body around like a ragdoll. They were purple, just like the bruises. There must have been bruises all over his body, he felt so beaten, battered, like he had been broken apart and his bones had turned to jelly. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't budge. He tried to crawl into a corner, hoping the rocking wouldn't be as violent, but his limbs wouldn't obey him. He couldn't even scream for help, just gasp for air as his throat emitted some kind of gurgling noise.

Then every now and then, a blur of black and white would appear by his side, hold him steady in the storm and slip him a little pill. He'd hear a whisper of "valium" and then the waves would turn blue and rock him slower and slower until they stopped and then he was alone again in the room.

During these breaks, he'd crawl to a bucket and heave the sea sickness out of his system, hoping that the next storm wouldn't be as rough. He'd wonder how long this had been going on for, it felt like years, but it might have been hours. He had no idea anymore.

Sometimes Simon would come in while everything was calm and feed him soup. Jeremiah would ask him why he left him alone in the storm and he'd hold him close until his friend told him he had to go and kissed him on the forehead, promising he'd be back again before it got too bad.

Jeremiah decided that Simon kept the storm away and healed the bruises that were supposed to be covering his body. The longer he stayed, the safer he felt and the closer he got to reality.

Golden September light filtered through the blinds, illuminating the two boys cuddled up on the couch. The thinner boy with black, messy hair had his long arms and legs wrapped around the pale blonde who rested his head on his friend's chest. They spoke softly every now and then, commenting on the show they were watching.

"I've missed this," Jeremiah stated, rubbing his thumb in circles on Simon's knee. "Sunday morning tv with you. I'm sorry for screwing up so badly." The other boy shook his head. Simon knew a big part of it was his fault and he had a lump in his throat because of it.

"No, I'm sorry. I should've protected you, I should've seen the signs. I should've stopped that night from happening, stopped any of this from happening." Jeremiah moved up a bit and turned his head in an awkward angle to silence his roommate with a kiss. It was just a short peck on the lips, affection between friends, but it held the answers. It told Simon everything he already knew deep down, that Jeremiah would have pushed through with it anyway, that he wouldn't have accepted any help and that it would never have been any different.

Simon closed his eyes as his friend turned his attention back to the tv. He couldn't figure out if Jeremiah had changed or if it was just his view of him that had changed because his mind wasn't clouded by cocaine or amphetamine these days. He seemed quiet though, reserved. Jeremiah had never been one to share his emotions openly, but lately it seemed like he was trying to hold in a huge secret or hide some big part of his personality. The smiles he flashed were mostly fake and most of his hugs held no emotion anymore.

But that kiss, Simon thought. That was genuine. Maybe he had been imagining it. He reached his hand down to link his fingers with his roommate's and smiled as he felt the other body settle down against his.