"That was like the worst fifty-five minutes of my life," Tala exclaimed. He and Kai were walking down the street just outside of the therapist's office. It was chilly, but not cold enough to snow in February. As they approached the intersection, the latter held down the button for the crosswalk indignantly. Of course, the main reason his redheaded companion thought the session was so awful was partly because he'd been so obnoxious the whole time, never letting anyone in the group complete a sentence before he interrupted or made a snide remark. The other part, Kai had to admit, was the group itself. It seemed like more of a support group for war veterans or serious abuse survivors - not people like Kai and Tala who were just bored teenagers unacclimated to the boring woes of everyday life.

"I'm never going back," Tala declared, stamping his foot a little. He glared at Kai. "What's your problem?"

Kai narrowed his eyes back at him. "What are you talking about?"

Tala sniggered at him. "You're moping. I mean, that's kind of your thing and all, but it's still annoying. You could try not to do it while I'm complaining about something." The traffic light changed to the walking man, and Kai took the opportunity to avoid Tala's scrutiny. He took long steps across the street, turned left, and started up the steep road that led back to their house. When he didn't hear Tala coming up behind him for half a mile, he slowed his pace.

The session wasn't actually terrible. Kai felt that if Tala hadn't been there to make him feel self-conscious (and frankly, exasperated), he would have actually gotten something out of it. Sure, his and Tala's experiences were aside from what type of trauma the therapy typically dealt with, but they had never led very normal lives. Kai knew that he would never really "blend in" or become easily forgettable like most everyone he'd met, but he wished that he'd had at least a normal childhood and not been raised in a front monastery by a malicious madman whose "vision" had been terrifying and enforced on them vicariously by his own grandfather. He didn't really feel deprived, per se, but rather that he had just missed out on something really good. And had it replaced with something really bad. He couldn't really complain, not when there were children elsewhere who were being abused daily by their parents or their culture, but in his defense, the nightmares only stopped about two years ago. When he thought Boris had been sent away. Maybe he'd go back on his own sometime.

As he approached the house, a sense of dread filled his stomach. Ray will be so disappointed if I tell him the truth. Before the appointment, he'd seemed so sure that this was so right (it was what everyone else did, after all). I can't lie to Ray. Or can I? Would it be really bad? He's used to disappointment from me. I'll tell him the truth.

"So, how did it go?"

"Great." Fantastic.

He fell up the stairs, into his room, and under the sheets. It was still technically winter, and would be for the next month, but nothing could excuse how cold it was in that house. His skin was crawling with gooseflesh and his teeth were on the edge of chattering. He stuck his hand down is pants and held it there, against his thigh, fingers beginning to thaw. He was absolutely sure it was not that cold outside when he was speed walking home to avoid Tala. In Japan, winters never got quite as arctic as in Russia, but Kai's tolerance to the cold was already waning. He felt around and slid his cell phone out of his pocket, flipping it open. He dialed "5." It rang eight times before being picked up.

"Hello?"

"Who's this?"

"It's Kai."

"…"

"Hiwatari?"

"Alright. What do you want?"

"Can you pick me up some product?"

"I just did, like two days ago, man!"

"I lost it."

"No way." He heard deep breaths on the other end. "How much?"

"Two grams? And some Grey Goose, if you don't mind."

"Alright. But you're paying me in yen, this time."

Later that night, a man stopped by the community house and knocked on the front door. Kai got it, being closest to the door already (though very intentionally). As nobody else was really paying attention (it was movie night and The Notebook had just come out on VHS), he snuck the goods up to his bedroom and locked himself in. Cracking a window, he stuffed a few dried green leaves into his orange and red bowl, lit the end with one of the dozens of disposable lighters around his room and inhaled deeply. His lungs burned and itched and stung but he refused to cough, only exhaling slowing once his eyes started watering. He took another hit, this time having to exhale faster to avoid a coughing fit. After taking in a few more lungfuls, he set down the glass instrument and stared up at the ceiling. It was really bright, and kept moving away then coming back. His hands felt pleasantly numb, almost warm, and tingles ran up and down his spine. His eyes felt heavier, harder to move, and before he knew it, he was drifting off.

He couldn't move.

He was being held down, his hands and feet tied outstretched.

Something was covering his face, preventing him from breathing.

He couldn't see.

His skull felt like someone was cracking it open.

It felt like there was a house on his chest, like his ribcage was being crushed -

Kai woke himself up, heart hammering in his chest (which was thankfully still intact) and mind still foggy from the smoke. He wasn't tied down, but the blood was pounding through his vessels and caused a ripping pain to shoot through his head. He still felt like he couldn't breathe, but that was gradually getting better. He felt for the bottle of water he always kept on his nightstand, and opening it, downed half the bottle. The pain in his head became a dull throb and the tightness in his chest abated. He chanced standing up.

Taking careful steps toward the door, he cracked it open and strained his ears for the sound of commotion downstairs. Ray was saying something, and the movie credits were playing. A smug and cocksure voice responded, the kind of smug and cocksure voice Kai had been hearing since he was a kid in Russia and hated hearing now. He closed his door quietly and locked it. Whatever happened between him and Tala would have to wait till the morning.

Trust me, it won't just be drugs and dreams the whole time. Maybe like once more. It's not the most exciting thing to write, but relevant to the storyline.