Disclaimer: As mentioned in the last chapter, I own nothing... e.t.c.

Special thanks to my three wonderful reviewers, Sandra Strickland, Nep2uune and loonytunecrazy.. Sniff.. You's make this job all worth while, :).

As always readers, please read and review.

After school:

Managing to get home without incident, Arnold walked into the now near deserted boarding house, only him and his grandparents lived there now, the other residents having moved for various reasons. Oskar and his wife had been the last to go, they'd had a baby and decided that they wanted their child to grow up closer to the countryside. They'd promised that they'd come back to visit sometime, but so far they never had.

Arnold checked in on his Granparents, saying hi to them as he walked up to his room, his Granpa was half asleep on the living room sofa and his Granma was sat at the kitchen table reading a cook book. Neither tried to engage him in a conversation and he was grateful for that, he walked up stairs to his room and closed the door.

Once inside his room, Arnold hurried over to his bed and sat down, in his first year at high school he'd been miserable, he'd sometimes even cry on his bed, he was that fed up of being alone, but not anymore. When he was in eighth grade, an ex-drug user had moved into the boarding house for a few months, still being his good natured helpful self, Arnold had tried to help the guy out.

...Basically put... It had backfired and Arnold had become addicted himself.

Smiling lightly to himself, Arnold bent down over the side of the bed and pulled out his reason to be happy- It was a small creamy brown box, he brought the box up, set it on the bed and unlocked it. He smiled even more to himself as he glanced at the contents, a wad of white cigarette rolling papers and a small see through bag of a goldish brown tobacco like substance, but the substance was a bit stronger than that... Just a bit...

Arnold never started on them until at least 9:00pm (he hated the idea of his Granparents finding out) but that didn't mean he couldn't at least prepare two for later.

The box open, Arnold smiled gleefully to himself as he measured out a small portion of this precious (and very illegal) substance onto one of his many white rolls of cigarette paper. He'd been doing this for a year now and couldn't understand how so many people said drugs were bad for you. As long as he didn't over do it, he couldn't really see any long term consequences catching up to him.

Afterall, he only ever ingested by smoke (that had to be much safer than taking pills or injecting(!)), plus he only ever took two after school on a Friday and two after school on a Monday - He was in control!. So to sum up, it definitely wasn't dangerous, it just took the edge off things a bit ...and he definitely wasn't addicted or dependent on them!

...So admittedly, he'd started off with one a Friday and one a Monday, so he saved up and spent near all of his pocket and school dinner money on nothing but this great honey brown substance, so it made him lose his appetite, so it made him have to go to some of the dodgiest areas on the block to get some more... The point was, that it's wasn't hurting anyone except himself.

...Wait, wasn't the main point supposed to be that he wasn't addicted?

Arnold apathetically shrugged this thought off, with the hell he had to live through in school, he deserved something to look forward to at the beginning and ending of the week.

Still smiling to himself, Arnold licked the side of the cigarette paper and rolled it, to make a complete looking cigarette, he put it down in the box and started on making a second cigarette.

"Short man, you up here?".

Arnold's eyes widened in surprise, he quickly put everything he'd taken out, back into the open box, closed the box and shoved it back under his bed. "What is it Granpa?", Arnold asked, trying to make his voice sound as steady and calm as possible as he quickly grabbed a deodorant bottle out of his bedside cupboard and gave the place a hurried spray, stopping and putting it back into his cupboard, just as his Granpa walked in.

His Granpa opened the door to his room and stood there for a while, his fading vision, not allowing him to see where Arnold was.

"Hey Granpa!", Arnold called, allowing his Granpa to figure out where he (Arnold) was, face towards the bed and walk over, "Hey short man", his Granpa smiled, trying to hide his previous worry at being unable to even figure out where his own Granson was, "I was wondering if I could come in to... Whew! What is that terrible stink?! Smells like an old gym sock!". Arnold's eyes widened at this accusation but it was quickly swept under the rug as his Granpa continued, "Anyways Arnold, I was wondering...".

"Yes Granpa?".

"Well I was wondering if I could tell you a bedtime story?", his Granpa finished, smiling weakly.

Arnold looked at him strangely, "It's a bit early isn't it Granpa? It's only 5:30, besides, I'm 14...". "Yes I know that Mr Smartypants!", his Granpa grumbled, looking quite annoyed before continuing, "I just, well... It'd be nice to pretend to back to the good old days for once, you know? When things were simpler and you were younger and Granma had 'more' of her marbles and I wasn't...", Granpa held a hand over his near sightless eyes, words caught in his throat. "I'd love to hear a story Granpa...", Arnold quickly interrupted his near tearful Granpa, pulling his Granpa's arm to move him closer towards the bed.

"Do you wanna sit down Granpa or...".

"Of course I do! Just like the good old days hey Arnold? Now get in bed and scoot over, this story's gonna be the best one yet!". Arnold smiled sadly, still in his day clothes, he got into bed and moved over to let his Granpa sit on the side of it, "Well boy, it all started when...".

Half an hour later:

Granpa half sat, half lay on the bed, having fallen asleep during his own story telling, Arnold carefully got out of bed and wrapped his blankets around his slumped over, sleeping Granpa. Granpa hadn't managed to get to the end of the story but Arnold had appreciated it all the same, it had reminded of a time when life was easier, when life was simpler, when life was... Arnold stepped out of his bedroom and stopped short, he smelt smoke, "Oh hell!".

He ran.

Seconds later:

"Granma!", Arnold exclaimed, making it to the kitchen at break neck sped and glancing around the room to see where the smell of smoke could possibly be coming from.

"Oh, hi Arnold!", his Granma smiled to him, turning around from a smoking and heavily boiling over large metal pot, to look at him, "You're just in time, it's stew today!".

Arnold sighed with relief that at least the stove hadn't caught fire this time, he moved over to stand next to her, leaning against the stove, to hide the fact that he was turning the gas off while he spoke to her, "Granma, no one lives here anymore, it's just you, me and Granpa... You know that".

A moment of confusion passed her face before she shyly began to frown, "Yes, yes, you're right Arnold, I... I just forget sometimes... I guess all the more for us though? Ay boy?!", she smiled and took the lid off the metal pot, to show him the contents.

Arnold took a reproachful look at the ingredients, un-chopped carrots, floating meat (which he hoped was bacon), one whole potato and other assorted inedible half-burnt ingredients, floating in very murky and burnt looking water. Arnold pulled a face, "Tell you what Granma, how about you go wait in the living room, and I'll take care of this?".

His Granma smiled brightly, "Oh such a thoughtful boy!", she gave him a small hug, telling him not to burn the ingredients, before leaving the room and going to find Granpa. Arnold sighed quietly, glancing around the dirty, unkempt kitchen, (he'd only cleaned yesterday), he gave out another short sigh, "Thoughtful... Yeah(!)".

They had baked beans on toast, about the only fast meal Arnold could make without setting fire to the kitchen himself. Arnold ate quietly, listening to the ongoing conversation his Granpa was having with 'Pookie', as he complained about, "Yet another day of baked beans on toast". Arnold didn't have the energy or enthusiasm to re-explain to them both that it was him who had been making baked beans on toast every other day. Arnold figured next day he'd go to the butchers and get a pre-cooked chicken or something.

At 9:30pm, Arnold said goodnight to his granparents, who were both sat together in the living room, watching/listening to the tv. They both gave him a kiss goodnight and thanked him for his help today, he smiled saying they didn't need to thank him, and then went up stairs to his bedroom.

Once there, he shut his door tightly and collapsed on the bed, lying there for a while before finally sitting up and taking the creamy brown box out from under his bed once more. He opened it up and immediately took out the white cigarette out that he'd rolled before. Placing it in his mouth, he leaned over the box and completed the second cigarette, before taking it out of the box and putting on the top of his bedside table.

That done, he lay back on his bed and fished the lighter he'd 'confiscated' from his Granma, out of his pocket.

Wondering where his Granma had got it from, Arnold stared at the dark coloured lighter and turned it around in his hand. He hated 'confiscating' things from her, he'd only had to start doing it near the end of 7th year at high school, when he came back home and found his Granma trying to cook a pot noodle by holding a flame against the plastic pot it came in. He'd thought she was joking until the plastic pot noodle pot actually caught light, and he'd had to quickly put it out by dumping his Granpa's cup of coffee over it.

When he'd asked her why she did it, she'd apologised for scaring him and said she didn't know why she'd done it, she'd just wanted to them all something to eat. Worried but trying not to show it, Arnold had told her it was fine and that he'd do it for her, he'd made canned soup for them that day, and taken all of the lighters out of the room when she wasn't around. There after, whenever she asked him where the matches and lighters were, he'd always tell her they'd run out, or turn the stove on for her and stay in the room while she cooked.

Alot of the time, what she cooked, had actually turned out quite well, but there'd also been quite a few incidents as well.

Incidents... Oh yeah, that reminded him, he stood and climbed up to his ceiling window, opening it so that the smoke would escape up and out of the window, and not let out his favourite secret to his Granparents.

Finally feeling much more calm and in control of the situation, Arnold once again lay back on his bed, put the cigarette back in his mouth and lit it. It took a few minutes for the effects to really kick, but when it did, it really kicked in. Just lying there, Arnold felt like he was floating, being swung slowly from side to side, like a baby in it's crib, like a drunk sleeping in a hammock. The room seemed to glow slightly brighter than it had done before, the colours seeming even more bright and vibrant, Arnold glanced around the room, his eyes focusing on a bright red book in his book case, and being unable to focus anywhere else.

It was a beautiful colour that book, he was mildly surprised that he'd never noticed how beautiful that book had looked before. He wanted to get up and move closer to it, but found he didn't have the energy or will power to do just that. But that was ok, he could enjoy that book's wonderful colour from over here, now that he thought about it, there were alot of things coloured red; Apples, ice lollies, blood, his blood was red, he had self made cuts and scars across his thighs to prove that point... Now that he thought about it, was everyone else's blood red? He was pretty sure it was, or was it? They said that but he'd never seen many other people bleed, maybe it was all a lie...

Gerald, Gerald always used to wear a red shirt, it had two 3's on it. Arnold had always wondered what the two numbers were for, maybe he should phone and ask, wait... There was a reason why he couldn't ask, oh yeah, they weren't friends anymore, well that was a downer. Arnold frowned slightly and wondered who else he wasn't now friends with... Helga, Brainy, Lila, Phobe... In fact, when he even thought about it, did he even have any friends? ...No, no he didn't, well that was depressing, why didn't he have at least one...

Arnold stopped himself and shook his head, willing the bad thoughts away, what he was taking was highly potent stuff and he didn't want to go down into a depressive mood while on it, it could affect him real badly.

Now that he thought about it, what was the drug called again? A puzzled look crossed his face, before an even more worrying aspect came in, where did the drug even come from, was it grown? Was it lacened with toxins? Was it even what he'd paid for? ...Or was it some kind of poison, designed to give the user a high before lulling them into an early grave?!

Arnold's eyes widened at this thought, his hands stretched out, tightly grasping either side of his mattress, he was going to die wasn't he?!

Yeah... He was! ...He needed to find someone and tell them before it happened, before it took a hold of his body and poisoned him to death... But who could he tell? He didn't have friends anymore and his Granparents would make him give it up, he'd have to explain it anyway to his Granparents if he phoned for an ambulance, but he had to...

Wait, wait! ...He had to think logically here, he'd been using from that same bag since last Friday, if there were any ill effects, he would have felt them by now... Unless they were slowly building up in his body, building up and slowly releasing the poisonous chemicals-

WAIT! Arnold took a deep breathe in, letting it out slowly and releasing his tight grasp on the mattress... He had to enjoy his high, he wasn't going to get another one for a few days so he might as well enjoy it, he decided to focus on something nice, something in the near present.

...The last time he and his Granparents had visited Arnie and his (Arnie's) mom and dad (a few months ago)... that was nice, it had been a break from the usual look-over-your-shoulder city-high-school life he'd been becoming accustomed to. His aunt and uncle (Arnie's parents) weren't too fond of his granparents, for whatever reason he couldn't really say. Still, for whatever reason, they'd kept an eye on his Granparents for him, and he'd been left to have a responsibility free week with Arnie.

When he'd been a kid, Arnie had always slightly irritated him, with his perpetually blank look, monotone speech and his need to count anything in sight. Growing up to teenagerhood and gaining more responsibilities, had made Arnold appreciate Arnie's air of indifference, he never made fun of Arnold, and rarely voiced his opinion on Arnold's appearance or if he did something strange or acted out of the ordinary.

Arnold smiled, yeah, Arnie was great, a little different but so was everyone. Lately, Arnie's teachers had apparently told his parents that they believed him to have Asperger's, Arnie's parents hadn't wanted him to be tested for it and Arnie himself didn't seem too bothered either way, so he'd never gotten the test.

Arnold could understand how he wouldn't want to be tested, he knew well enough how a label could affect the rest of someone's life.

Being on the outside looking in had helped him even more to see what it was like when people viewed you as weird or just plain unlikeable, it hurt and it made you feel like an outsider, no wonder so many loners were depressed. It felt like you were diseased and hated by near all. It was something he'd never fully understood when he'd been a kid.

When he'd been a kid everything had seemed so friendly, like he couldn't get hurt, like he was in a dream world almost, he figured that was because he'd been basically protected, by having so many friends. Teenagerhood had given him a harsh kick into reality. Not everything was infallible and not everyone could be trusted.

Arnold sighed, if he was a different guy... maybe things would be different.

...Maybe on Monday, he would storm into school and tell Lila she was a worthless liar, maybe he would tell Gerald how much of a betraying backstabber he was, maybe he would tell Helga that she should quit being with Brainy because 'he' (Arnold) was the one she really wanted, then he'd kiss her and tell Brainy to go take a hike! ...Then maybe he'd actually stand up to Biff and his crowd of laughing drones. Maybe he'd even attack Biff when his back was turned, knock the guy to the floor, knock some of his teeth out, let him know that Arnold Shortman was not a guy to be messed with, YEAH!

...No, Who was he kidding?! ...He wasn't like that, aggressiveness just wasn't in his nature and even so, what if they called in his Granparents and the teachers saw what they were like now? Would they (his teachers) ring social services, would they take him away from his Granparents and say he couldn't possibly cope.

...And never mind him, what about his Granparents? What if they were put into an old folks home? ...They didn't deserve or belong to be in a place like that!

No... no... He'd just carry on the way he'd started... Glancing over to his bookshelf again, Arnold gazed at an old photo frame, resting on one of the top shelves. The effects of the drug slowly leaving him, he got up and grabbed the small frame from the bookshelf, lying back down on the bed and staring at it. It showed a year photo of his 6th grade class, a year before everything seemed to go all wrong.

Seeming almost mesmerised, Arnold traced the faces of the friends he used to have with his finger tips, wishing on every star in the galaxy that he could go back and somehow fix everything, make everyone like him still, figure out some sort of medication for his Granma's aging mind, somehow fix his Granpa's slowly fading sight...

Arnold glanced out of his window, at the night sky, and saw exactly what he had expected to see. There were no stars at night, there rarely 'were' where he lived, the bright lights from tall buildings and exhaust smoke from cars and overhead planes, blotted out any chance of him seeing them.

Arnold shrugged sadly, and placed the photo frame on top of his bedside table, staring fondly at his 'friends', he lay on his side and figured, that maybe it was true what everyone says... Nice guys 'do' finish last.

Arnold sighed, and moved over on his bed, reaching out for his second cigarette...

Sad ending ay? But as they say, 'there's such thing as a fairy tale' ...It was something like that, I got it off Hiro Nakamura's dad from the tv series Heroes (No copy-right infringement intended...).

To cover my self from any hate reviews (which I still welcome, not eagerly, but I welcome them all the same):

1. The drugs: The symptoms they cause are based on two seperate drugs, one which (as far as I know) can't be smoked and both which will not be named for bad influence reasons, this has happened before... So, sadly names will not be named...

2. Asperger's: It's a mild form of Autism, I used to hang around with a small group of friends who all had this, I've known lots of adults who have this and I have also had teachers, and various other people attempt to diagnose 'me' with this. I'm just saying this to point out that I do have an idea of what I'm going on about and I didn't just see Arnie, immediately decide he had something different about him, and just slap the Autism label on him. (If you have any want to know why I said he had Asperger's, please ask me, (I didn't want to go into any unrequested detail and accidentally bore/ offend people)).

...Ok, now that that's cleared up, time to get off my high horse... AAAARRRRGGGHHH!

-THUD-

...Ouch...

Was higher than I thought, that... (Crickets chirp).

Heh... Anyways, please read and review, if you have any questions I'll try to get back to you...

Thanks...