Mike groaned as his alarm blared in his ear, ripping him from the glorious dream he'd been having about El. It had been last summer, that day that Dustin got back from science camp when she and Mike had ditched the gang while they were setting up Dustin's antenna. They'd run hand in hand down the hill, stumbling through the tall grass until one of them tripped and then they were toppling to the ground, laughing and grabbing at each other. And then they were kissing and holding each other close and she smelled like fruity shampoo and everything felt right in the world.

He tucked his morning wood up into the waistband of his boxers and got out of bed, groaning again when he saw the date on the calendar. Friday, March 21. This whole time he'd been foolishly holding out hope that El would change her mind and call him and tell him she'd made a mistake and to come see her after all. But today was the last day of school before spring break, and the clock had officially run out.

He moved through the day in a trance, feeling much like he had right after the breakup—the reminder of the cancelled trip casting a grey cloud over an otherwise sunny day. It hadn't helped that Nancy was still going to visit Jonathan and the breakfast conversation revolved around what she'd packed and what time they had to leave for the airport and which terminal she needed to get dropped off at. And then of course everyone at school was in a good mood, chattering excitedly about the championship game and spring break plans.

If Max had noticed anything about his demeanour she hadn't commented on it, content to just sit quietly while they both smoked.

"Hey, so since we're skipping the game, do you wanna come by Spin City after school?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," Mike replied flatly.

"Cool…" She flicked the ash off her cigarette and took a deep breath. "Also my um, lab partner in chemistry, Rachel Switzer, was telling me about this party tonight out near Benjamin Tree Farm? It's kinda like an anti-school spirit party, so I dunno, it could be fun?" she asked, trepidation evident in her voice.

Mike thought about it for a minute while he took a drag of his cigarette. He'd never been to a real high school party before. Maybe getting a little fucked up was just what he needed to take his mind off of things.

"Yeah, I'm in," he nodded.

She looked up at him, surprised. "Really? You want to go to a party? I thought it was gonna take some convincing."

Mike shrugged. "Well, why do you wanna go?" Now it was Max's turn to shrug.

"I was thinking about what Lucas said, about how it's like I'm not really here… I mean we are only young once. And this is what normal teenagers do, right?" She fidgeted with the end of her braid. "Plus it sounds more tolerable than going to the game and hanging with that crowd anyway."

Mike certainly couldn't argue with that.

The rest of the afternoon flew by save for the torturous mandatory pep rally. Dustin spent the whole time badgering him about joining the D&D campaign that night and Mike had made up some lame excuse, not wanting to go both because of his bad mood and because of his plans. Max eventually came and stood next to them, and it had been bizarre to pretend like they weren't probably each other's best friends at the moment, since neither Lucas nor Dustin knew they'd been spending time together.

Now they were at the record store, and Mike was looking through the bin of secondhand tapes while Max stocked the new arrivals and put price tags on them.

He looked up when he heard a loud clatter and saw she had dropped the sticker gun she'd been holding. But she wasn't moving to pick it up—she was facing away from him, standing eerily still.

"You okay, dude?" he called out, frowning when she remained frozen in place. "Max?" He walked quickly across the store, coming to stand in front of her. "Max? Hey, what's going on?" She was hyperventilating, gasping for air as her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she was just staring past him blankly like she wasn't seeing him, hands clenched tightly into fists at her sides.

He reached out to touch her but stopped himself, not wanting to accidentally agitate her. He was panicking, looking around desperately for someone to help but the store was empty. He jumped in surprise when Max's hands suddenly flew to her ears like she was hearing a horrible noise, her eyes wild with fear.

Mike's eyes went to the ever-present headphones around her neck, remembering what she'd said about music calming her down. "Max," he started, trying to keep his voice as calm and level as possible. "I'm going to put these on you, okay?" He grabbed her wrists and wrenched her palms away from her ears, leaving behind faint streaks of blood on her face, before quickly sliding the headphones into place.

He yanked the Walkman from where it was clipped to her jeans and frantically rewound the tape that was in there, hitting play after a few seconds and turning up the volume.

Then he put his hands on either side of her face and bent down to her level, trying again to get through to her. "Max, look at me, I'm here okay, please look at me!" Mike pleaded as she continued to breathe erratically and stare right through him.

And then it was like someone had flipped a switch and suddenly she saw him, her wide eyes latching onto his as her breathing slowed down and the tension started to leave her body. He let go of her face and let his hands fall to her shoulders, holding her steady as she came back to Earth.

After a minute she took a step back from him, lowering her headphones around her neck and taking deep breaths through her nose, eyes darting around the room.

"Max..? Are- are you okay?" he asked cautiously. Max nodded, looking down at the bloody crescent marks on her palms.

"Yeah, sorry that was a- that was one of my panic attacks," she breathed, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"Jesus. How often do those happen?"

Max shrugged. "Once or twice a week. That was um, that was a bad one though."

"Do you need anything? A glass of water or something?"

She shook her head. "I'll be fine." She looked up at him. "You um, you didn't hear any clock chimes did you?"

Mike frowned. "Clock chimes? No I-" The bell above the door jingled as a customer came in, cutting him off. Max forced a smile and quickly took her place behind the counter, fidgeting absently with the cord of her headphones.

After closing up the shop around eight o'clock they took the bus to his house. Max was acting like the panic attack hadn't happened, and Mike knew it wasn't his place to question her about it, no matter how badly he wanted to. The house was empty when they got there—his parents had dropped Holly off at a friend's and gone to a dinner party, and Nancy was covering the game for the school paper.

He led her upstairs to his room and deposited his backpack in the corner while she studied the items on his bookshelf.

"Should we roll a couple of joints for the party?" he asked.

She flashed him a smile and nodded. "Sure, as long as I'm the one rolling them."

Mike scoffed as he reached for the old metal Superman lunch box he kept on the top shelf of his bookcase. "What's wrong with mine?"

"They come out all wonky," she teased. He rolled his eyes but was inwardly glad she was smiling and making jokes, even if they were at his expense.

"Fine, catch," he said, throwing her the plastic bag of weed he pulled out of the box. She took a seat at his desk, grabbed the rolling papers out of the bag and got to work.

Mike stood awkwardly in the middle of his room, realizing this was the first time Max had ever been in there. He looked around at the clothes strewn about the floor, wishing he'd tidied up a little. He sat down on the edge of his bed and glanced over at her, thinking how weird it was to see her there—two separate worlds colliding, like seeing a teacher at the movie theatre.

"All done," she said a few minutes later, spinning around in his chair and holding up two admittedly perfect joints before sliding them into the breast pocket of her shirt.

"Do you think I should change?" he asked, glancing down at his turquoise sweatshirt.

Max gave him a once over and shrugged. "I'm not." Mike looked at the red and black flannel she was wearing over a ribbed white tank top tucked into tapered jeans.

"You look cool though." He could have sworn her cheeks flushed a little as she looked down at her outfit. Max Mayfield doesn't blush, he thought to himself.

She got up and walked over to his closet, flicking through the hangers until she landed on a denim jacket his mom had bought him for Christmas and that he'd never worn.

She pulled it off the hanger and tossed it at him. "Wear this over a black t-shirt."

Mike furrowed his brow. "With black jeans? You don't think that looks like I'm trying too hard?" She shot him a look that said not to question her. "Okay, okay, be right back," he said as he stood, grabbing a t-shirt out of his dresser and going to the bathroom across the hall to change.

Max looked him up and down when he stepped back into his room and gave him a nod of approval.

"Wanna do a shot before we go?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Look at you committing to the bit, Wheeler," she teased.

Mike rolled his eyes and beckoned her down the stairs, making his way to the kitchen and opening the cabinet above the fridge where his parents kept the liquor, eyes scanning over the assortment of bottles.

"Um, do you have a preference?"

Max shook her head. "I dunno, what's the least horrible?"

"Peach schnapps?" Mike grabbed the clear bottle and unscrewed the lid, pleasantly surprised by the fruity smell. He grabbed two glasses and poured a small amount into each one, passing one to Max.

"Bottoms up," she said, tilting the glass towards him before bringing it to her lips and downing it while he did the same. He let out a whoosh of air as the alcohol burned down his throat, but overall it hadn't been too bad. It kind of tasted like those gummy candies they sold at the movie theatre, he thought as he poured them another round.

They'd decided to bike to the party since it was too far to walk and neither of them was intending to be sober enough to drive. Not that they even had a car. Mike pulled his and Nancy's bikes out of the garage, leaning them up against the side of the house before going back to lock up.

"Are you sure Nancy won't mind if I bring her bike back later this week?" Max asked when he returned.

Mike shook his head. "She's leaving for the airport at like five in the morning, she won't even notice."

Max walked over to the bright purple bike, lowering the seat a couple of inches before jumping on, immediately taking it for a test ride up and down the block.

"Classic Zoomer!" Mike called out, making her laugh as she pedalled fast and then braked hard in front of him, skidding the back tire out to the side.

"Lead the way, Wheeler," she said as Mike swung his leg over his own bike and started pedalling, the dim headlight illuminating the street in front of them.

The journey was around thirty minutes, and the night air was crisp and invigorating. It was the first time he'd ridden his bike since the start of winter, and as he pumped his legs, savouring the burn in his quads and the wind in his hair, Mike felt more alive than he had in weeks.

He glanced over at Max. She was standing on the pedals of her bike as they cruised down a hill. She'd taken her hair out of its braid before they'd left, loose waves billowing behind her while her face looked almost serene.

"We should be getting close," he called out over his shoulder as they biked down the county road a while later, scanning the sides for signs of a party. "We just passed the sign for the tree farm."

"Over there, on the right!" Max exclaimed, pointing to some cars that were parked just off the shoulder, pulled into the shrubbery so passing vehicles wouldn't spot them and call the cops. They came to a stop and leaned their bikes up behind some trees before squinting into the darkness, looking for an opening in the woods and eventually spotting tire tracks leading away from the road.

They could hear the faint sounds of the party, the music and voices growing louder as they followed the narrow path into the forest until they emerged into a large clearing. There were probably around forty people there, mostly upperclassmen, but Mike recognized a few fellow sophomores in the crowd as well.

A trashcan bonfire stood in the middle, casting a bright flickering glow around the clearing. Teenagers were standing around in groups, laughing and talking, clouds of cigarette smoke floating up into the air. Several people had brought folding chairs and some were just lounging on the ground on top of blankets. Someone's pickup truck had been driven in, headlights illuminating the trees ahead, the bed housing a few kegs and a large boombox that was blaring rock music.

The clearing looked out onto a field of green, waist-high corn stalks on the left side, the rest was surrounded by dense woods.

"Five bucks for the keg," a long-haired boy standing at the entrance said to them as they approached. They each pulled a bill out of their pockets and handed them over, receiving two plastic red cups in return. "You guys enjoy your night," the boy winked at them as they walked away.

They made their way towards the truck and joined the line for the keg, handing their cups to the senior manning it when they got to the front. Once they each had a foamy, overflowing beer in hand they moved towards the back of the clearing towards the trees, observing the party as they sipped their lukewarm drinks.

"So, this is a field party," Mike said as his gaze drifted over the crowd, eyes landing on a group of boys playing a spirited game of hacky-sack. Max chuckled and nodded as she took another sip of her beer.

"It definitely is... At least it's a nice night." She tilted her head back and looked up at the smattering of stars visible in the inky sky. The moon was large and almost full, a glowing orange orb hovering just over the horizon. "Should we light this up?" she asked, pulling one of the joints out of her pocket along with her lighter. Mike nodded, grateful they had something to do other than standing around awkwardly.

"Hey, y'all blazing over there?" a junior Mike recognized from his AP chemistry class called out. He was pretty sure his name was Phil. "Mind if we join?" he asked, walking up to them with a few other people and forming a circle. Max shook her head as she blew out a cloud of smoke, handing him the joint.

They made introductions while they passed it around, the conversation eventually evolving into a high-spirited discussion about the new Metallica album that left Mike feeling slightly lost. Even so, he was having a good time, the now familiar buzz of the pot mixing interestingly with the alcohol in his bloodstream, dulling any gloomy thoughts that may have been lingering in his mind about El.

Sometime later, he'd been chatting with a guy in his Spanish class about how brutal the latest quiz had been when he realized Max was no longer standing next to him. He straightened up and peered over the heads of the partygoers, scanning the crowd for a flash of red hair, relaxing when he spotted her over by the fire, talking to her lab partner Rachel and some senior guy with a bleached blond mohawk who he'd seen hanging out under the bleachers.

"Hey, Wheeler!" Phil called out from a few feet away, beckoning him over to join the group that was standing around a plastic folding table. "We need one more for flip cup!"

Several rounds of flip cup later, Mike was feeling fairly tipsy on top of being pretty high. His watch told him it was just after midnight but it felt like he'd only been there for an hour, tops. He stumbled off into the woods to pee and when he came back to the party he looked around again for Max, frowning when his gaze finally landed on her.

Rachel had left and now it was just Max and that senior standing near the edge of the cornfield. Well, he was standing—Max looked like she was barely keeping herself upright, swaying and grabbing onto the guy's arm for stability, cackling loudly as she did so.

Mike felt a flash of… something—annoyance? Protectiveness?—pass over him as he watched them, the boy's hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer as he whispered in her ear. Max tilted her head back and let out that uncharacteristic laugh again before taking a large gulp from her red cup. Mike wondered how many beers she'd had to be acting so… different.

He made his way over to the keg to get his own cup refilled, stopping next to Max and her friend on the way.

"Hey Max, you good?" he asked, tapping her on the shoulder when he came up behind her.

"She's fine, dude," the guy shot back, raising a pierced eyebrow as he looked Mike up and down and pulled Max closer to his side.

"Wheeler!" Max exclaimed as she turned around, apparently not hearing the boy's reply. "How bomb is this party?" Mike tried to keep the disapproval off his face as he looked at her eyes and found them to be glassy and slightly unfocused.

"Yeah it's pretty bomb…" he replied. "Are you okay though?"

"Pfft, I'm great," she slurred. "I'm talking to uh… Brad?"

"Brett," the boy supplied, sticking out his hand.

"Mike," he said, returning the handshake, squeezing a little harder than he normally would.

"Brett's gonna teach me how to blow smoke rings, how cool is that?" Max giggled as she threw an arm around Brett's neck.

Mike gave her a tight smile and remained silent, feeling his right eye twitch. Her flannel had slipped off her shoulder, exposing the straps of her tank top and black bra. He did not like the way Brett was looking at her—like she was a field mouse and he was a coyote, ready to snap her up between his teeth. She plucked the joint Brett had been holding out of his hand and twirled it between her fingers.

"Let's go over there and light this up," she murmured in his ear, not even sparing Mike a glance before stumbling away and pulling Brett behind her by the arm, leaving him alone, scowling after them.

He had a bad feeling about Brett, and he wanted to grab Max and pull her out of the grasp of his slimy, wandering hands. Nope, she's not a princess who needs to be rescued. Just chill Mike, he scolded himself. He knew Max would be pissed if he swooped in and tried to save her. And the last thing he wanted to do was ruin her night, so he tore his gaze away from them and continued towards the keg, rejoining the group he was with before once his cup was refilled.

More time passed and Mike lost track of how many drinks he'd had, laughing and chatting with Phil and his friends, pleasantly surprised at how easy they were to get along with.

He was embroiled in a debate over the merits of the Indiana Jones movies versus the Star Wars trilogy when he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye and he glanced over, gaze landing on Max and Brett, his pulse speeding up as he watched them.

At first, he thought they were just playing around but when he looked closer he saw Brett had his hand wrapped tightly around her forearm, trying to tug her deeper into the woods as she resisted, shaking her head and pulling away from him.

Mike felt a jolt of white-hot anger flash through him and his feet carried him towards them seemingly of their own accord. Fuck it, he didn't care if she called it a saviour complex, he couldn't just stand by and let this happen.

"Hey," he barked as he stormed up to the pair, giving Brett a shove and attempting to push him away from Max. He must have been drunker than he thought because he barely made contact with Brett's shoulder, tripping over his own feet and stumbling forwards.

"Fuck off, man," Brett slurred, yanking Max forward by her sleeve. "She wants to come with me."

"No I don't you dickbrain, let go of me!" she hissed as she attempted to wrench herself away from him. Brett let go of her suddenly, causing her to stumble backwards and spill her beer all over the front of her shirt. "Motherfucker!" she exclaimed, looking down at her soaked tank top before glaring daggers at Brett, who had his hands in the air like he hadn't touched her. Mike reached out and put a hand on Max's shoulder, stopping her from lunging at Brett like it looked like she wanted to.

"Whatever," Brett shot back, shaking his head as he backed away from them. "She seems like a fuckin' tease anyway."

"Just fuck off, man," Mike snapped, pulling Max away to the other side of the clearing.

"God what a fucking creep," she called out in Brett's direction, raising her voice at the end. A few people turned their heads toward them at the commotion. Mike shushed her and swung her around so she was facing him, putting his hands on her shoulders to keep her from swaying back and forth.

"Okay, okay, I think it's time to bounce," he said, trying to keep his voice steady even though adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost two in the morning. Shit, they were way too loaded to bike home.

He scanned the crowd and recognized a senior who used to be friends with Nancy back when she was dating Steve. He was heading for the path with a blonde girl on his arm, and Mike ran over to catch up to him, pulling Max behind him by the hand.

"Hey! Um, Trevor, right?" he panted as he came to a stop in front of them.

"Hey, you're Nancy Wheeler's little brother right?" Trevor asked, giving the pair a once-over.

"Yeah I'm Mike, this is Max," he said, tilting his head towards her. "So, um, we biked here and we're both too wasted to make it back. Is there any chance we can hitch a ride with you guys back into town?" Mike begged, hoping Trevor would see how desperate they were and take pity on them. "You could even just drop us at the corner of Fifth and Maple and we can walk from there."

Trevor's eyes flicked back and forth between them, a hesitant look on his face. "I dunno dude, that's kind of out of my way…" Mike felt his face fall in disappointment. What the hell were they going to do?

"Wait!" he exclaimed as he quickly reached over into the pocket of Max's flannel and pulled out the second joint she'd rolled. "What if I throw this in?" he asked. Trevor eyed the joint in Mike's hand, looking as if he was contemplating the offer.

"Oh just help em' Trev," the blonde on Trevor's arm spoke up, looking at them like they were abandoned kittens on the side of the road. "How else are they gonna get back?"

"Yeah, alright," he relented after a second, snatching the joint from between Mike's fingers and tucking it behind his ear. "You guys gotta ride in the back though, I only have room for one passenger up front." Mike felt his body flood with relief.

"Thank you so much man, you're a lifesaver," he said as Max leaned against him, struggling to hold herself up.

They followed the darkened path back towards the road, Mike basically supporting Max's whole body weight with his arm around her waist and her arm around his shoulder as they stumbled along, tripping over tree roots.

Trevor led them over to the blue pickup truck parked just off the shoulder and Mike got Max situated in the back, leaning her up against the cab before going to retrieve the bikes from their hiding place.

Once the bikes were loaded and the tailgate was closed, he squeezed in next to her, legs folded up against his body in the small amount of space that was left in the cargo bed. Trevor started the engine and pulled out into the road, Bruce Springsteen's "Darkness On The Edge Of Town" floating out the open windows and into the night air. Max groaned and leaned her head on his shoulder as the bumpy road jostled them violently. Her usual vanilla scent mixed with the overwhelming smell of the beer she'd spilled on herself earlier.

"Hey buddy," Mike said, looking down at her and giving her a nudge. "How puke-y do you feel on a scale of one to ten?"

"Mm, six?" she mumbled as her eyes drifted closed. Okay, I don't love that, he thought to himself, praying to god that if she was going to barf she could hold it in until they got out of the truck.

Trevor brought them to a stop at the corner of Mike's street, jumping out to lower the tailgate and help him with the bikes. Max thankfully seemed to have sobered up a little on the drive, now able to stand on her own, albeit unsteadily.

Mike thanked Trevor again profusely and started rolling both bikes down the street, one on each side of him as Max shuffled along behind him. The street was eerily deserted, all the houses were dark and every sound they made felt like the loudest noise in the world.

He leaned the bikes up against the side of the house, knowing they'd be safe there until morning before leading Max around the back to the basement door.

"Oh fuck me," he muttered under his breath as he tried to turn the door handle, finding it locked. "The one time my dad decides to actually lock this door." He looked over at Max and found her squatting against the side of the house with her head in her hands. "Max," he whispered. "You okay?"

"Yup," she nodded. "Just trying to get the world to stop spinning." Mike sighed as he looked up at the second floor windows, knowing what they were going to have to attempt to do. Luckily he'd caught Steve doing it years ago, so he knew it was possible. He knelt on the ground, bringing himself to eye level with Max.

"Alright dude," he whispered, waiting until she lifted her head to look at him. "The basement door is locked so you're going to have to reach deep inside and find your sober self who has amazing balance and coordination from skateboarding, and channel her as much as you can because we're going to have to climb onto the roof of the house and go through my window, okay?" Max stared at him for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and nodding slowly, rising to her feet and finding her balance.

"Let's fuckin' do this," she said, her speech still noticeably impaired.

God help us, Mike thought as they made their way to the front of the house. He wasn't sure what Steve had been standing on when he was sneaking into Nancy's room, but whatever it had been wasn't there anymore. Mike looked around the yard for something he could use, his eyes landing on the large metal garbage can next to the front door. He dragged it over and flipped it upside down, making sure it was stable before beckoning Max over, putting a finger to his lips to let her know to be silent.

"The first window right there is Nancy's, so be as quiet as you possibly can when you're going by it, she's a light sleeper." Max nodded as she warily looked up at the route she was going to have to take to get to Mike's window. "Ready?" he whispered, holding out a hand to help her onto the garbage can.

She got up onto the can easily enough, struggling a little when it came to using her upper body strength to pull herself up onto the actual roof. Mike put his hands out to steady her, grabbing her hips and boosting her up a little until she got a knee up and half pulled, half rolled herself the rest of the way onto the shingles.

He waited until he was sure she'd steadied herself before scrambling up onto the can and hoisting himself onto the roof, a task made easier for him due to his height.

He jerked his head to the side, motioning for Max to follow his lead as he crawled on hands and knees up the slanted roof and under Nancy's window.

His heart stopped when he heard something clatter to the ground behind him, the noise feeling deafening in the otherwise silent night. He turned slowly and saw Max looking back at him with wide eyes. "Frisbee," she mouthed, shrugging apologetically. They held their breath and waited to see if the commotion had woken anyone up, frozen and crouching on the roof like gargoyles.

When nothing happened after a minute Mike nodded and they continued scrambling across the unexpectedly slippery shingles until they reached the second window. He took out his Swiss Army knife and wiggled it under the window frame until it lifted, sliding the pane up slowly and cringing at the grinding noise it made.

He motioned for Max to come closer, steadying her with his hands on her hips as she shakily rose to standing before crawling headfirst through the window, landing with a soft thump on the carpeted floor on the other side.

Mike let out a sigh of relief as he grabbed the ledge and pulled himself through, tumbling to the floor next to Max, who was still lying on the ground. He crawled over to his bedside table and turned on his lamp, illuminating the room with a soft glow. Max rolled onto her back and squinted at him, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness.

"I'll just pass out here," she mumbled, reaching out and pulling his discarded sweatshirt under her head like a pillow. Mike couldn't help but smile to himself at her intoxicated antics.

"No, you take the bed," he whispered, crouching over her and giving her a gentle shake. She groaned as she sat up, letting him help her up to her feet and over to the bed.

"I need to get out of these wet clothes," she said, cringing as she pinched her tank top between her fingers.

"Um… here," Mike said, going over to his dresser and pulling out an old Indiana Pacers t-shirt he'd gotten for free at a game he'd gone to with his dad years ago and that he now wore while doing chores. He tossed it in her lap.

She started taking off her flannel and Mike felt his face flush as he spun around quickly. "Oh, uh, let me just turn around," he mumbled, certain that sober Max wouldn't want him watching her change.

He heard the rustling of shoes and then clothes falling to the floor and stared hard at the Dark Crystal poster on the wall, trying not to think about what was happening a few feet away from him. Max may have just been his friend, but she was still very much a girl.

"Okay, I'm done," she whispered. Mike turned around cautiously and was relieved to see she'd already crawled under the covers, pulling the plaid duvet tightly around herself and burrowing her face into his pillow. He shrugged off his denim jacket and shimmied out of his jeans, leaving him in his black t-shirt and striped boxers. He grabbed the second pillow from the bed and tossed it onto the floor, pulling the extra blanket from the top of his closet before sinking down to the carpet and trying to make himself comfortable.

"Goodnight Max," he whispered as he reached over to turn off the lamp, hearing only the sound of deep, even breathing in response. He lay back and stared at the ceiling, willing the room to stop spinning as his eyes drifted close, the smothering embrace of alcohol quickly dragging him into a deep sleep.