Sorry, Charlie

by CHOOSELIFE

Third story in the Charlie series. This story picks up two and a half years after Drake's last overdose. Ricardo has forced him to clean up his act, but still Drake can't seem to get away from his past. Everyday is a fight to stay clean and now that he doesn't have his favorite red pills, his depression and anxiety are just as hard to kick as his drug addiction.

6. Back To Normal — Almost

When Drake opened his eyes, he blinked with confusion. This ceiling was different from the one above Gemini's bed and the comforter he was using wasn't fluffy and light pink. Instead, it was brown and he recognized it as the one in his room at Ricardo's. He was home.

Last night's events came crashing into his memory and he didn't want to move. He felt so ashamed about what had happened. He'd almost used again. How many times did that make this month? Fucking pathetic.

However, he felt comfort knowing that Ricardo didn't feel the same way. His friend always said to call him no matter what time it was. He always had time to talk Drake through a meltdown. Instead of feeling disgusted with the boy for almost relapsing, he felt proud that he had come to him for help. It's like cock-blocking yourself, but with drugs instead of sex.

Despite not wanting to move due to humiliation, he knew that it was a bad idea to lay here and dwell over what he had done (or almost done) last night. He sat up and pushed the comforter away. He was on the couch in the living room. He must've cried himself to sleep here or something. Ricardo was sitting in the recliner. He looked like he had just woken up himself. Drake must've been moving a lot right before waking.

The man had a thin blanket wrapped around him. He was looking at Drake. "Another nightmare?"

"I had a drug dream." These were the worst. You could be years sober and doing well and then have a drug dream and that was it. Your life could spiral out of control just like that.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Drake reached for his pack of cigarettes that was on the table. It felt light, so he shook it. He knew then that it was empty, but he opened it to double-check. "I dreamed I was at my motel room and I took Triple C's," he admitted nonchalantly, but he couldn't meet his eyes. He had just woken up and, already, his heart was racing. His fingers were even trembling ever so slightly. God, he needed a cigarette. Still averting his eyes, he quietly asked, "Did you get rid of them?"

He meant the Triple C's, but he didn't mean trashing them. He meant flushing the pills down the toilet, setting the boxes on fire, then feeding the ashes to a bird that would fly far away from here and never come back. He meant absolutely destroying them.

"They're gone," Ricardo assured.

Drake knew that it wasn't necessary, but he still felt like he should apologize anyway. "I'm really sorry about last night," he said.

"It's okay. I'm really glad you came to me."

He picked up his phone this time and saw a couple concerned text messages from both Gemini and Sawyer. They had been in the audience last night for support. Too stressed to deal with that this early, he set his phone down.

"Well anyway, thanks," he said. "I'll tidy all this shit up before I head back to Gem's." He needed to put his comforter back in his room and trash the empty cigarette box and the teary and snotty tissues.

"Drake..." Ricardo sighed. "I think it's time to come back home," he said.

"You don't have to worry about me. I had a little slip-up, but I'm better now."

"I want you to stay," he said.

For the first time that morning, Drake met his eyes and saw that he was sincere. He'd left because Ricardo had clearly needed his space, so maybe he had worked through whatever it was that had made him hate being stuck in a room with Drake. Maybe things could go back to normal.

"Are you sure?" Drake asked. He would love to come home. He hardly slept at Gemini's, which is probably why he had been having a lot of sleep paralysis when he did.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Drake said. He was curious to know what had brought about this change in his friend, but he wasn't going to push this time because maybe that's what had made Ricky so uncomfortable in the first place. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Drake nodded his head slightly and spoke softly. "Okay." His head moved towards the table and his eyes landed on his empty pack of cigarettes again. He really needed to smoke. He found his shoes next to the couch, so he reached for them and started to slip one on without untying the laces. "I'm gonna go out." He knew his vagueness would only worry Ricardo, so he elaborated. "I need cigarettes."

"You want me to take you?"

If Drake was being honest, he didn't completely trust himself to not come back with Charlie. "Would you?"

"Yeah. Lemme brush my teeth," he said. "I'm off today, so we can grab some breakfast and a Redbox movie and come back here?"

"Okay."

When he was gone, Drake cleaned the table off like he said he would, then he went upstairs to brush his teeth as well. He met Ricardo downstairs in the kitchen, where he was grabbing his keys. It wasn't until they opened the front door and stepped outside that Drake realized how early it was. Judging my the dim sky, it was probably around seven.

"Is Julio here?" Drake asked.

"Yeah, he's asleep. He's gotta go to school later today."

"Did he say anything when he came in?" Drake felt guilty for bailing on him like he did.

"He was just glad that you were home and sober," Ricky said, "so don't worry about the gig. He's just sorry about what happened. He didn't think anyone would be that much of a jerk."

Drake got inside the car and immediately turned on the radio as they backed out of the driveway and started down the road. The second he chose a station, Ricky pressed a button to change it to one of his saved ones.

"Yeah, right," the man said. "My car, my music."

Drake rolled his eyes, then turned up the heat. "It's cold."

"Why didn't you bring a jacket?"

"I forgot."

"Hey, buckle up," Ricardo said after glancing at him. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Yeah, because I might die if we wreck going-" He checked the speedometer. "-fifteen miles per hour."

"Shut up," he said. "And put your seatbelt on."

Again, Drake rolled his eyes at him, but he did.

---

"That movie was right up your alley, I bet," Ricardo said as he removed the Sorry To Bother You disc from the PlayStation 4 and put it back into its Redbox case.

"How'd you know?"

"Because you like weird movies."

"True," the boy said. "But also because Lakeith Stanfield was in it."

"Which one was that?"

"The main character. He was in Get Out. Oh, and that show we watched together: Atlanta."

"Was that the one with Childish Gambino?"

"How do you not remember? That show was funny as fuck."

Ricardo reached up towards the ceiling to stretch his back muscles and he actually heard a few of his bones pop. "We watched it, like, a year or two ago." He let go of a yawn. "This rain is making me tired."

It had started soon after they had gotten back home from getting breakfast, cigarettes and a movie and it was still going strong two hours later.

"Perfect movie marathon weather if you think you can sit through another one."

Ricardo said, "Let's start a show together instead."

"Do you have one in mind?"

"I think it's your turn to pick, right? Wasn't Prison Break the last one we watched together? That was my pick."

Drake picked up the PS4 controller and opened the Netflix app as Ricky left the room, probably for a bathroom break. As he scrolled through the titles, he couldn't help but think that today was a good day. It was still early and a lot could happen, but right now, things were okay. He'd woken up early, which he liked to do because he hated feeling like he was wasting his day by sleeping in, then making up for it by staying up late at night only to sleep in again the next day. On top of that, he had shared a good meal with a good friend over a good movie and, since he'd gotten up so early, they'd finished an entire movie before noon, which made him feel like he had so much day left. What topped it off and made it even better was that it was dark and cloudy and stormy outside. This was his favorite weather...as long as he had a roof over his head, of course. There was something about the lack of sunshine that felt smothering, but in a good way, like a weighted blanket.

He wondered what his life would've been like at this very moment had he have went through with his relapse last night. Despite Julio practically begging him to always come back home no matter how ashamed he felt, Drake wasn't sure he would've done that. Maybe, but it wasn't set in stone.

Living on the streets had led him to do a lot of things that he wasn't proud of. Had Dev not tried to kill him, he'd probably still be out there doing those things. It was insane sometimes to think about. Right now, everything was okay and it was hard to imagine ever wanting to give this life up. However, when a craving hit him, he was in a completely different mindset.

The young man wasn't sure what exactly had convinced him to walk home after buying the Triple C's yesterday. He could've easily taken them, but he was so glad he didn't. He wasn't sure where that strength came from, but he was incredibly grateful for it. Drake never wanted to use again. He never wanted to let things get to that point where he ended up on the streets again and he had to do all he could to prevent it.

"Find anything yet?" Ricardo asked as he stepped out of the downstairs bathroom. Instead of entering the living room, he went into the kitchen.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You want anything while I'm up?"

"Uh, a water, please."

The man came back with two bottles of water. He passed one to Drake before taking a seat in his favorite recliner. While his friend continued his search, he picked up his cell phone to quickly check for messages.

"Hey, Ricky?"

He looked at him instead of just asking what he wanted because Drake's voice carried a bit more seriousness than normal. "What's up?"

Drake picked up his own cell phone, then tossed it to Ricardo. "Do you wanna set it up so you can always see my location with your phone?" He felt weird and even slightly embarrassed asking this, but if he ever ran away again, even if he didn't want it when the time came, he knew right now that he would want to be found.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said. "I just don't want a repeat of last time."

His friend nodded proudly. "Okay. It needs your password."

Instead of taking it, typing it in, then handing it back, Drake told the man the four-digit pin that would unlock his phone. "That's why I kept my phone off when I was gone. Clem already set it up so that she could always see where I was."

Ricardo didn't doubt it. She was very overbearing and controlling. She even had it set up so that she also received notifications and messages when they came in on his phone. He probably needed to figure out how to fix that soon.

"I couldn't figure out how to turn location sharing off, so I just shut the whole phone off," he said. "She could still have it on there. I don't know how to mess with that shit."

"So if a relapse-and-run ever did happen again, you don't think you would just turn off your phone so I couldn't find you?"

"I might," Drake admitted, "but maybe I'll forget. Or maybe I'll just be sitting there hoping you'll come. What do you think of Maniac?"

Ricardo glanced up at the television and saw a colorful poster with both Emma Stone and Jonah Hill, then he put his eyes on the phone screen again. "What's it about?"

Drake read the plot. "Two struggling strangers connect during a mind-bending pharmaceutical trial involving a doctor with mother issues and an emotionally complex computer."

"Geez, that does sound like something you'd watch," he replied without looking up from the cell phone.

"I mean, I could look for something else a little more actiony or whatever."

If Drake was going to watch it, Ricardo wanted to watch it with him so he knew what his friend was putting into his brain. With most anything else, he would let him be, but because the plot contained the words "mind-bending pharmaceutical trial," it was a red flag.

"Nah, I'll watch it with you if that's what you wanna chose," he said, "But this is gonna count as your show, and I'll probably choose 24 next, which has, like, nine or ten seasons and twenty-four hour-long episodes per season."

"That's fine. I was gonna watch it with Clem anyway, but then she made me watch 13 Reasons Why instead."

Ricardo couldn't suppress his laughter.

"No, it wasn't bad, though. I mean, the first season was good but also kinda eh, but the second one was amazing. We binged the entire season the day it came out. I cried. A couple times. I also relapsed that night, if you remember. I think I admitted it to you the next day."

"I remember," Ricardo said, "because you were telling me about how there was a disclaimer at the beginning of the episodes that said you shouldn't watch it if you're sensitive to sexual assault and drug addiction since it shows both graphically."

"I feel like, though, it said you should watch with an adult," Drake said. "Clem was there, so I had an adult."

Ricky rolled his eyes with disagreement, then he tossed Drake his phone back. "Yeah, she was still on there for location sharing. I removed her."

"Thanks."

"Alright, let's start this show," the man said, pulling a handle on the side of his chair to let out the footrest.

---

Ricardo woke up to the quiet rumbling of an engine right outside his window. His eyes immediately moved to the couch where Drake had been and he saw that he wasn't there. He looked at the television, which was turned off. He didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembered from Maniac was seeing the test subjects swallow their first pill.

He heard a high-pitched double click and peeked through the blinds. It was Drake locking up his car and heading up the driveway. Seconds later, the front door opened. Ricardo was suspicious when he heard the boy slowly and quietly close it. Drake started to walk past the living room to head upstairs, but when he peeped into the room, he saw that Ricky was awake and looking in his direction.

"Hey." He came into the living room. "Did I wake you?"

The man shook his head, then rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Almost two," he answered. "You fell asleep, so I just turned the show off until later."

"You went somewhere?" He didn't mind Drake using his car. He often let him. He was just curious as to where he had gone.

"Oh, yeah. The library." He saw his friend's skepticism and removed his backpack. He unzipped it and held up a book: Tweak: Growing Up On Methamphetamines by Nic Sheff. "They didn't have Skagboys."

"The last book from the Trainspotting series?"

"The prequel," was his response. "They let me sign up for a library card and they ordered it from another library that they work with or something? I don't know how it works. They said they would e-mail me when it was delivered to them and they'd hold it for me. I got this one instead. It's due back in two weeks."

"Nic Sheff?" the man said after reading the author's name, which was printed in large letters. "Surprised you didn't get another Irvine Welsh."

"He wrote a couple episodes for 13 Reasons Why. Clem obviously was obsessed with the show and made me watch this behind-the-scenes panel with the crew thing called Beyond The Reasons. Nic Sheff was a guest on there and he just seemed cool and I've been wanting to read his stuff since then."

"Just what you need. Another triggering book."

"I know. I don't know why I can't get interested in anything else." Drake pulled out another book, this one much larger, but also a lot thinner. "Also, I went to the kids' section and got an ISpy book."

"Oh, shit." Ricardo chuckled. "I remember those. Back in elementary school, everyone in the class would always rush to get those before everyone else took them."

"Yeah, and all the girls loved me because I was cute and cool, so they would grab one for me to win my affection, and then they'd be my girlfriend for the week."

"What the fuck? In elementary school?" He laughed. "That was really a thing?"

"Yeah, I actually did that." He opened the book and started looking at the pages. "Turns out I've always sexually exploited myself to get what I wanted."

"That sounds really bad, but also, that's the best story I've ever heard."

Drake glanced up at him with a smirk before turning his attention back to the book.

Ricardo was still laughing. "Dude, some of the things that come out of your mouth are so blunt and raw and shocking." He was glad that his friend could laugh at himself sometimes. "I feel like you could be a comedian."

"Oh, wow. This must be what it feels like to actually have self esteem." He set down his book, then opened his wallet to show off his new library card. "Look at it." He seemed really proud of himself when he held it up.

"Drake Parker actually owns a library card," Ricardo said. "Never thought I'd see the day."

The young man looked at it with admiration. "Isn't it so cool? I wish my mom could see this."

"She'd probably die of a heart attack if she did."

"Right?" He smiled down at his card for a little while longer before putting it back inside his wallet. "I can't wait to tell Julio." He seemed like he was glowing in a way, which made Ricardo happy to see. "I'm super excited. Today's been, like, a really good day." Drake should've known that saying this out loud would only jinx things, which it soon seemed to do.

"Hey, um," Ricardo started, "can we be serious for a second?"

Drake looked at him, his smile slowly fading. "What's up?"

"I thought that maybe...while we're alone...it would be a good time to talk about everything...that happened."

"Oh. Yeah, okay." He hadn't expected this. He thought that it would just be one of those things that neither of them brought up again.

"Well, I never wanted you to feel like you had to leave, but the time alone really did help me work through-"

Ding dong!

Both boys turned their heads towards the direction of the foyer, then met eyes as if to silently ask if either had been expecting company. Ricardo stood, then went over to the front door. Drake heard him open it, then he heard the man ask if whoever it was was okay. Curiously, he stood, then joined him in a flash when he heard Clementine's voice. When he got to the door, he saw that she was weeping and she had a black eye and a split lip.

"What happened?!" Drake asked, stepping forwards. He gripped her chin gently and turned her head so that he could get a better look.

She said nothing as she wrapped her arms around her ex boyfriend, her crying growing louder slightly. Drake squeezed her back, his face showing his confusion. Standing so close to her — touching her again — caused his heart to race. His entire body felt warm. God, how he'd missed her.

"Come inside," Ricardo said. "I'll get some ice."

They separated ways. Drake led her into the living room and guided her to the couch. Instead of joining her, he squatted down in front of her and met her eyes, which she tried to hide by hanging her head.

"Babe, what happened?"

Ricky joined them again. He handed her a bag of frozen vegetable to put on her eye, then he passed Drake a wet napkin. Drake gently started dabbing away the dried blood on her lip.

"Who did this?" Ricky asked.

"Carter," her voice cracked out.

Drake saw Ricardo's clueless expression and explained, "Her boyfriend."

"Ex boyfriend," she corrected.

"What a piece of shit," Ricardo said. Despite not being a huge fan of Dahlia's, he never felt like she deserved this (even though Drake had come home from her house looking like this many times before).

"Where is he?" Drake asked.

Clem saw that he was pissed and looking for a fight. "I don't know. He's gone. Brett and Sam came home when he was hitting me. Brett beat him up and kicked him out."

"Can I get you something?" Ricardo asked. "Some water or some ibuprofen?"

"That sounds great, thanks."

Drake set the wet napkin onto the table. He placed his hand on her cheek, caressing it softly. He used his thumb to wipe away a tear. "I'm so sorry," he said. "You don't deserve that."

"He was a horrible geezer," she said. "And the things he said to you that day-"

"Hey, don't even worry about it," he said. He sat down next to her now and wrapped his arms around her.

"I never even liked him like that. He was just dishy and I was mad at you. I wanted to make you jealous. It's stupid and wrong, I know."

"It's okay," Drake said. "I'm just sorry this happened." He wasn't sure what to say, so he resorted to what he always did around her: profusely apologizing when he wasn't even at fault.

"Here you go," Ricardo said when he came back into the living room. He passed her the medicine and water and watched her swallow it down. He took a seat on the corner of the coffee table in front of her. "What happened," he asked calmly. "Why did he hit you?"

Dahlia said, "He'd always go to the pub and get trollied and then come back to the gaff narky and hit me. He said he'd stop. He swore down, but he didn't. I told him it was over, but he got mad. He slapped me on the gob and punched me. I was arse over tit when Brett and Sam came in."

Ricardo only understood bits and pieces, but Drake seemed to comprehend the whole thing. He could fill him in later.

Clementine looked up at Drake with sad, puppy dog eyes. "Can we talk?"

Ricky started to stand. "I can give you some time."

"It's okay. We'll go to my room." Drake gripped her hand and led her upstairs. He closed the door behind him, then joined her on the bed.

"I was there last night," she said, "at your gig. That's what set him off."

Again, Drake embraced her. "I'm so sorry."

"He showed up there when he found out. One of his mates told him, I suppose. He tried to make me leave, but I wouldn't. I already wanted to break up with him because my girlfriend said she saw him snogging some sket at the mall. I guess he knew I was missing you because he came prepared," she said. "He's the one who threw the pills at you and kept yelling at you to take them."

The events of last night played over in his mind. The lights had been so bright that he hadn't really been able to see into the audience. This definitely sounded like something that prick would do. He remembered hearing that one taunting voice that had started it all, then everyone had joined in the chanting. Now that he knew who had done it, it was embarrassing that he had walked off stage, basically giving him what he had wanted.

"Did you use?" Clem asked quietly, feeling as if she didn't have the right to ask.

"No," the boy answered, his voice just as soft, if not more. "I mean, I almost did, but I came here and Ricky talked me out of it."

"I'm really sorry that plonker did that. He was jealous of you. He knew I still had feelings for you."

Drake's heart started pounding faster and he was pretty sure that she could feel it. "I'm still in love with you," he admitted. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

She closed her eyes as her head continued to rest against his chest. As she listened to his heartbeat, she gripped one of his hands and intertwined her fingers with his. He missed the touch of her skin.

"I made a mistake sending you away that day."

"It's okay. I don't blame you. I acted selfishly," he said. "I'm sorry I left."

She lifted her hand, which he was still clutching, up to his mouth so that he could kiss it, allowing her to feel the touch of his lips on her skin. He then kissed the top of her head.

"I'm sorry I told him about your past. I was just so angry-"

"I know," he whispered.

"When he said all those awful things to you-"

"It's okay," Drake assured.

She lifted her head then, then met his eyes. For a long time, she stared into them and he into hers, then she leaned closer and pressed her lips against his. Drake's heart exploded now. He rested his hand on her cheek, then she reached up and held onto it.

Drake only pulled away to say a quick but meaningful, "I love you."

They were immediately connected at the lips again. Their breathing got louder and their kiss got more passionate. Now, predictably, it was time for make-up sex. In no time, she had pushed him back onto his mattress and was on top of him. Their hands slid up and down each other's bodies and their tongues wrestled together. Clem wasted no time. She pulled off his shirt, then she unfastened the button on her lover's jeans and unzipped them.

"Tell me how much you love me," she whispered.

As her lips made their way down his neck, he did. Slowly, her mouth moved lower...lower...lower. Drake's chest lifted and fell, his breaths heavy. It wasn't long before his penis was engulfed in a wet sort of warmth.

Suddenly, the door opened. "Yo, Drake — shit!"

"Julio, you can't fucking knock?!"

The boy turned around to avoid seeing more. "I didn't know she was here. I mean, I knew she was here because I saw her car, but I didn't know you guys were busy," he said. He was laughing hysterically. "I picked up a pizza. I was coming to see if either of you wanted some. I guess she won't be hungry after this, though?" he joked.

The girl giggled.

Drake tossed a pillow at his annoying friend. "Get the fuck out!"

"Alright, alright."

When he was gone, Drake let go of his breath. "Christ," he said. "I'm sorry about him."

Dahlia didn't seem to mind. She continued her work on him, but a couple minutes had passed and he still wasn't hard. Although he wanted this, his mind was somewhere else. He gently pushed her away and she looked up at him questioningly.

"I can't do this," he said, buttoning his pants back up. "Sorry."

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Is this because of Julio? This isn't the first time one of your roommates has walked in on us."

"No." Drake sat up and turned his back to her. He picked his shirt up and started putting it back on. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" She was on her knees behind him now, her hands rubbing up and down his biceps.

He sighed, then hung his head. He felt incredibly ashamed, but he knew he had to tell her. "Babe..." He couldn't find the right words. He quietly cursed, this rubbed his forehead.

"What is it?" Clementine turned his body towards her, but he kept his head down. "Tell me."

"When I relapsed..." he started. "I... Things got really bad. I was really desperate for drugs and cash. I did some things that..."

"What did you do?" She never took her eyes off of him, which made him nervous.

This was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to admit out loud. His voice was quiet and she could hear his shame. "I slept with other people...for money...and for drugs."

"Oh..." she said, taken aback by this. She backed away, her mind racing. "How many people?"

"I... A lot," he admitted. "I don't know." He still couldn't look at her.

"About how many?" she asked, hoping for an estimate.

He had to give it to her. He owed it to her. He shook his head. "Thirty...maybe? Seventy?" He'd been so fucked up that he couldn't remember, but it had been enough to pay for a hotel room for over a month, to eat and to buy other basic necessities (including Triple C's).

"Thirty or seventy?" She felt like that was a pretty big gap.

"Maybe more."

"More? More than seventy?"

He covered his face with his hands. Clearly, he regretted his actions.

"Were they all girls our age?" It sounded like she was trying to size up the competition.

"They were all guys," he admitted. "Like...older men."

She had to take a breath before she said, "Oh." This came as a surprise. "Like, just blowjobs or...?"

"Sometimes more," he said.

"Wow." She let go of her breath.

He felt disgusting. "I'm really sorry," he said, but he doubted that it would help. "I just..." He shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"You slept with a bunch of strangers and you let me put my mouth on your dick?"

"I got tested and they all came out negative," he said, but he knew that wouldn't make it better. "I'm sorry. I should've said something sooner."

"This is a lot to take in," she said.

He was honestly shocked that she hadn't started yelling or cussing or name-calling or hitting yet. "I know," he said. "I know I fucked everything up. I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," she said, to his surprise. "I don't know how I feel. I'm just kind of sad, I suppose."

"I'm sorry," was all he could say.

"Will you look at me?"

He still wouldn't, so she moved her hand to his cheek and turned his head for him. He kept it low still and she could see just how ashamed he was. She kissed his forehead, then rubbed her thumb against his skin.

"We don't have to shag," she said. "We can just talk."

"About what?"

"I'm curious to know what happened while you were gone. You tell me what you did and I'll tell you what I did."

It was then that he somehow just remembered that she had slept with Carter. This thought angered him, but he knew he had no right to be mad. He was the one who had caused all this. She'd slept with one guy. What he had done was much, much worse.

"Okay," he agreed.

The two laid back, resting their heads against the pillows. Drake admitted every little detail that he could remember to her, even the thing with Mrs. Hayfer and her husband and Dev and Ricardo. He wept for a long time, which was expected. When it was her turn, she admitted to sleeping with Carter. The rest of her story wasn't bad. She mainly just caught him up on what her life had been like over the past couple months. She seemed very casual and forgiving about the whole thing actually. Drake wasn't sure how, but he absolutely loved her for it.

---

"And you passed?" Ricardo asked his brother, who was sitting on the couch where Drake had been earlier.

Julio was drinking a beer. When he swallowed some done, he said, "Yeah. I mean, I got an eighty-three, but that's still okay."

"It is," the man assured. "I know you were stressing about it. I'm glad it's over with."

Just then, then heard two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs. Drake was holding Clementine's hand with one hand and he opened the front door with the other.

The girl stepped outside, then turned back to him. "We'll talk soon, yeah?"

"Okay."

She gave him a hug before she left. Drake was going to head back upstairs, but the two eavesdroppers called him into the living room.

"She's not staying for pizza?" Ricardo asked.

"Nah," the boy answered, his eyes on the ground and his hands in his pockets. This was a sign that he was pushing them away and building up a wall although he didn't realize that he was doing it.

"Sorry I interrupted your little 'chat.'" Julio said with a grin. "At least someone in this house is getting laid."

"No, actually, we stopped after you left."

"Well, shit, I didn't mean to cock-block you."

"You didn't. I cock-blocked myself," he said. Seeing they they expected a more elaborate explanation and that they weren't gonna let him go isolate himself, he sat down on the couch with Julio. "I started thinking about all the stuff I did on the streets and I knew I couldn't hide it from her forever, so I told her everything."

"How'd she take that?" asked Ricardo.

"I don't know. She seemed okay. She wasn't mad or anything. She just said that it was a lot to process and that she needed time to think about everything before jumping back into a relationship, which I guess I understand because I did do a lot of unforgivable shit."

"Are you okay?" the oldest asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay. It went a lot better than I expected."

"I definitely thought she was gonna cut your nuts off," Julio said.

Drake leaned forwards and opened the box of pizza, which was half-gone. He took a slice, then saw a paper sitting on the coffee table. He turned it so that it wasn't upside-down. "This your test?"

"Yup. I got the results of the test back. I definitely have breast cancer." This was a reference from the movie The Room, which was possibly the best worst movie ever made and one that the three of them quoted constantly.

"You passed?"

"Yeah. Eighty-three, son!"

"Dope." Drake gave him a high-five when Julio held up his hand.

"All that studying paid off," Ricky said.

"I know. I think our system really helped a lot, too."

Julio had made flashcards that both Drake and Ricardo had quizzed him on at times. They'd gone over the subject matter so much that both of the boys who weren't in collage could've passed the test. Sometimes Ricardo had given him a pop quiz in his car if they went somewhere or Drake would question him over dinner.

Speaking of dinner...

"So who's getting stuck with cooking tonight?" Julio asked. "I'm starving."

"It's a little early," was Ricardo's response.

"By the time it's done, it'll be dinnertime, though."

Two heads turned and two pairs of eyes met Drake's. When it came to decisions such as these, you had to be the first to make a silent connection or else the other two would gang up on you, which was happening to Drake right now.

"Oh, come on," the boy said. "You guys always stick together."

"It's because you're the best cook," Ricardo said, but his flattery wasn't working on Drake.

"I cook more than both of you combined," he said.

"Yeah, but you've been gone for the past week," said Julio. "Which means you haven't cooked in a week. I've cooked four times. Ricardo, have you cooked this week?" He already knew the answer.

The man nodded. "Twice."

"Ricardo's cooked two times," Julio said. "How many times have you cooked, Drake?" He spoke in a serious tone although this was all somewhat of a joke.

The boy just looked from Julio to Ricky and back again. "None, but-"

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Julio said, cupping his hand behind his ear as if to tell his friend that he needed to speak louder.

Again, Drake repeated himself, and again, he was cut off. "None, but-"

"Well, since you haven't cooked all week, I think it's only fair that you take the next three nights," Julio said.

"And dishes, right?" added Ricardo.

"It's only fair," Julio said again with a nod.

Drake groaned. "You guys are so fucking annoying." Suddenly, he remembered something. "And you just had pizza."

"That was, like, two hours ago."

The oldest agreed. "Yeah, that was lunch."

Drake sighed. "Whatever. Fine." He stood to go see what they had in the kitchen.

"That squash and zucchini has been in there for a minute. We should make it tonight before it gets old," Julio said. "You can probably just cut them up and sauté them."

"And while I'm at it, I'm gonna slit my throat."

"Dramatic much?" Ricky said.

"Just don't do it over the food," said Julio.

---

Drake exhaled and a cloud of smoke left his lips. The rain was still going strong, which made him feel incredibly calm, so he'd left the kitchen door open so that he could hear it better. There wasn't much to look at. This door was on the side of the house, so straight ahead was a line of trees that divided their yard from the neighbors. There wasn't any sort of protection from the rain here, so he stood right inside the door. When the oven timer beeped, he tossed his cigarette and wafted the smell out as best as he could before closing the door.

He pulled out the tilapia and set the pan on the stove top. "Dinner's done," he called.

He turned off the beeping timer, then opened the cabinets and pulled out three plates. He put a fork on each, then he went ahead and made his own plate. He scooped up one of the pieces of fish with a spatula, then poured the squash/zucchini mixture onto his plate. Even after he did all this, he was still the only one in the kitchen. Ricardo was upstairs, but Julio was napping on the couch.

Drake went into the living room. "Hey, are you gonna eat?" he asked softly. Just as his friend started to open his eyes, Drake noticed a tiny ball of fluff on top of Julio's stomach. He'd almost missed it because it was black and almost blended in with the dark colored blanket the boy was using. "You know you have a cat on top of you?"

Julio's voice sounded like what most voices sound like after a nap. "What?"

"Did you get a cat?"

"No." Julio looked down at his chest. "The fuck?" He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"This isn't your cat?" Drake was still asking.

He squatted down and reached out, gently rubbing his thumb and pointer finger across the small kitten's fur. With this, the cat lifted its head and leaned into his hand. It opened its eyes and looked up at Drake.

"Its fur's wet. Maybe it came in to get out of the rain. I had the kitchen door opened the whole time I was cooking."

"You really didn't just put this cat on me?" Julio asked.

"No."

Drake let the animal smell his hand so that he wouldn't be freaked out when he made a move to lift the cat. It hardly bothered to sniff. Instead, it rubbed its head against his skin, so the boy scooped up the kitten and held it against his chest so that Julio could sit up. It was then that Ricardo came into the room.

"I was in the bathroom," he said, explaining why he didn't come down when he was called. His eyes immediately moved to the small animal in Drake's hand. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

"I woke up and it was just laying on top of me," said Julio.

"Meow," went the cat. It was high-pitched, but soft, like most kittens'.

"It's so thin," Drake noticed. "It looks like it's starving."

It was black and it reminded him of his old kitten, Fonzie. His father had given it to him on his birthday years ago, then he'd later proceeded to brutally torture and kill it just to hurt Drake. He'd loved that cat, but after its cruel death, he'd vowed to never ever get another animal. However, Martin was gone now and he couldn't do anything to this one.

Drake looked up at Ricky with a smile. Just by the expression on his face alone, Ricardo knew that his friend was asking if they could keep it.

"So I have an idea," Drake started.

Ricardo didn't mind having a cat around as long as he didn't have to deal with the litter box. They weren't rich by any means, but money wasn't currently incredibly tight either at the moment. Although Drake was jobless and Julio only had the money left over from his school grants, Ricardo's income was sufficient enough to provide basic necessities for all three. A cat wouldn't hurt them financially.

"I'm not cleaning up after it," Ricky said.

"So it can stay?"

Most parents buy their child a pet when they want to teach them responsibility. Ricardo, however, allowed him to keep it in hopes that, if Drake started craving and wanting to go back to his old way of living, maybe having something that actually depended on him would be more of an incentive to stay clean.

"I also don't wanna clean up after it," Julio interceded.

"I'll do it," Drake said. Again, he asked, "So we can keep it?"

Just to be sure, Ricardo looked down at his brother, who shrugged. "Why not?" he said. "We can pick up some things after dinner. I have to return this Redbox movie anyway."

They made their way into the kitchen and started getting their food. Drake hung back and leaned against the island as he pet his new cat.

"What movie did you get?" Julio asked his older brother.

"Sorry To Bother You."

"Would I have liked it?"

"Mm..." He looked up in thought for a seconds. "Probably not. It's not your usual type."

"What does that mean?"

The best way Ricky could think to describe it was by saying, "It's a Drake movie."

"Ah."

"And it was really good," Drake added.

The cat was sticking its claws into his shirt and skin and meowing nonstop as it climbed up his chest. It made its way to his shoulder and meowed some more.

"It smells food," Julio said.

"That's probably what drew him here in the first place if you left the door open."

They went back into the living room to eat. Drake grabbed his cat so that he wouldn't fall off of his shoulder, then he picked up the plate he had made earlier. He carried both into the living room and sat down on the floor. He put his kitten down, but it climbed up onto his legs and bumped his plate with its head.

"Can I have one of your napkins?"

Julio gave him one, then Drake used his fork to cut up a fourth of his tilapia into small chunks. He put them on the napkin for the cat to eat.

"What are you gonna name it?" Julio asked as Ricardo searched for something to watch.

"I don't know yet."

Ricardo decided on Key & Peele despite the fact that all three boys had already seen every episode of it. They finished their dinner before the first episode was over. Drake left the cat in his room so that it could get used to his smell and, accordingly, to him. It was just himself and Ricardo in the car. Julio had stayed back to do some homework.

"Thanks for letting me keep the kitten," Drake said.

Ricardo gave him a small smile as he glanced at him, then he put his eyes back on the road. It was still raining down hard.

"Today's been a really good day," he said. "Even with Clem showing up. That went a lot better than it could have. I feel really good about today."

"That's good," the man said in an upbeat voice.

"Oh, I almost forgot, though. You said you wanted to talk about something serious?" said Drake. "Before Clem came by."

"Uh, yeah, um..." He waved his hand as if to say it wasn't a big deal. "No, it's fine. We can talk about it later."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's really not even that serious."

Drake wanted to prod more, but he feared that his friend would only distance himself like last time. Instead of continuing the conversation, he turned on the radio and let the sound of Twenty-One Pilot's new song fill his ears. He opened his mouth to sing along, but Ricky clicked a button on the radio.

"Nuh-uh. My car, my music. Remember that."

Ricardo used to always scold Drake when he called him Ricky instead of his real name. It had taken years, but eventually, the man had warmed up to it (or maybe he'd just gotten tired of correcting him). Maybe one day in the future, Drake will be able to get him to share the radio as well.

---

Drake softly rapped on the cracked-open door with his knuckles. Ricardo looked up from his phone as he pushed the door open the rest of the way. The younger boy was holding his cat.

"Hey," Drake said.

"Hey," the man said back. "You going to bed?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Is Julio already asleep?"

"Are you kidding? You can't hear him snoring from there?"

Ricardo cracked a grin. "Miraculously, I do not, actually."

"I'm just glad my room's not across from his," Drake said. "I probably would've killed myself." Despite it being a serious matter, he casually spouted this phrase all the time. Although he had a much better control on them now, suicidal thoughts were still things he dealt with regularly. He was so used to feeling this way that he talked about it with nonchalance and people who didn't know him well thought him to be extremely blunt. "So," he started to break the silence, "I don't wanna keep bothering you about it — tell me if I am — but I don't want you to think I'm shrugging you off either, so like, if you wanna, like — I mean because — because we can, like — or if you don't want to, that's okay, too." He was nervous. Why was he nervous?

"We don't have to talk about it right now," Ricardo said.

Drake wondered if it was because he was uncomfortable being alone with him in his room due to what it may look like.

"Okay, well...okay." Drake pulled himself away from the doorway and started to turn, but stopped as he petted his cat. "Oh, yeah. No particular reason, but do we have any carpet cleaner?" he asked. Again, he added, "For no particular reason."

Ricardo's lips cracked upwards ever so slightly. "Hall closet."

"Hmm," Drake said with a nod. "Good to know...in case something came up and I needed it."

The man rolled his eyes and looked back down at his phone. "Goodnight, Drake."

---

"Bitch..." that familiar voice said over the phone. It was Rhinestone, but he was clean now, so he liked to go by his real name: Tarence. Rhinestone was his 'addict alter ego' or whatever, but Drake still called him Rhinestone just because he had known him by that name for so long. "I didn't think you were gonna answer. Where the fuck have you been?"

"I had a bad relapse," Drake admitted as he scrubbed his carpet with his free hand. He instinctively looked at the clock to check the time because he knew that, anytime Rhinestone called, he could be stuck on the phone for hours and he always called at night.

"Well, shit. How'd that happen?"

"I don't know. I just used once and it kinda spiraled. I turned off my phone so Clem couldn't track me. I was gone for two months."

"Goddamn," he said. "You're sober now, though?"

"Eleven days," was his response. Quieter, almost to himself, he added, "Eleven long, grueling days."

"That's good," he said. "I've been in your place plenty of times before. The beginning is always the hardest, but keep at it."

"Thanks."

"You're back home with Ricardo and Julio?"

"Yeah."

"Does Dahlia still talk to you?"

"She came over today and we started talking things out."

Drake kept it short because he knew that Rhinestone didn't call to hear about his latest relapse. Anytime Rhinestone called, it was because he had a story or a crisis or something and he could talk about it for hours. Drake didn't mind. He still loved him and considered him a friend despite everything. However, he felt like he kept a healthy distance from him. One thing that greatly helped this was the fact that, two years ago, Rhinestone had moved in with this guy he met online, who lived in Las Vegas. His good-looking, forty-year-old, Hispanic boyfriend's name was Zachary.

"So what's up with you?" Drake asked as he pushed himself out of the floor, thankful that his cat's accident didn't stink up his room.

"Boo, okay, so let me tell you. I have gonorrhea." However, he was laughing hysterically, which he sometimes did to avoid crying.

"What?"

"Okay, so you know how I told you about that time I cheated on Zach several months ago?"

Drake remembered. A while ago, Rhinestone had admitted to Drake that he missed the way his sexual life had been on meth. Despite confidently telling his friend that he wouldn't relapse or cheat, Drake received a call a couple weeks later detailing how Rhinestone had done both. It went like this: Rhinestone had been walking down the strip when a car pulled up to the curb. He kept walking, but was called over by the stranger. For whatever reason, he got in the car with him. Rhinestone ended up performing a handjob and oral on him, then the guy asked if he wanted any meth. Crazy right? It was almost unbelievable, but this was the kind of thing that always happened to Rhinestone. Sometimes you just have that druggie look and other users just know, even when you've been clean. Drake's also had his fair share of outrageous experiences, he supposed, but Rhinestone's life just always seemed even more chaotic and drama-filled somehow.

Afterwards, but not immediately afterwards, he'd told Drake about what had happened. He needed advice because it was hard carrying that secret and he felt like his boyfriend was starting to notice that he was acting differently in bed. After hearing Rhinestone's story, the best advice that Drake could come up with was to tell the truth. However, he didn't just end with that because he didn't want to be responsible if something bad happened, so he gave him a rundown of what would most likely happen afterwards, which was basically that Zachary would probably leave him, Rhinestone would have to move back in with family in California and start over finding a job, home and boyfriend. Drake made sure he made this clear because he didn't want Rhinestone taking his advice and then blaming him later when his life went to shit. He just felt like the truth was always the best way to go. Surprisingly enough, while he was drunk, Tarence admitted to his boyfriend what he had done and, after a rough patch, things had worked out.

"Yeah," Drake said. "I remember."

"And remember how I told you that he admitted to sleeping with his ex a few months ago?"

Rhinestone was one of the most forgiving people that Drake knew. He felt like this made them even, but even if someone had done him wrong first, he was quick to forgive.

"Yeah," said Drake.

"So it could be either one of us. We don't know who gave it to whom." Again, he laughed in his signature high-pitched squeal.

Drake couldn't help but chuckle along with him. Rhinestone's life was both insane and entertaining at times, so as long as he was laughing, then it was okay for Drake to laugh, too.

"So how did you find out? You got tested?"

"Yeah, well, he's always saying that we need to get tested. Ever since that time with me and that guy in the car, he's like, 'We need to get tested. We need to get tested,' but he never does it. I was off a few days ago and I went up to the free clinic and got tested. They gave me the HIV results there and they came back negative, but I had to wait for the others. They were e-mailed today."

"How did his come back?"

"He hasn't gotten tested yet. I guess he figured he'd just wait and see what my results were."

"What did he say when you told him?"

Drake always asked questions to make sure he sounded interested. It's not that he wasn't; he was just best at listening. Also, he'd learned that Rhinestone would ramble on and repeat things over and over again if you didn't ask questions to keep the conversation going. Even without methamphetamines, Rhinestone was hyper and verbose, making it hard to tell the difference sometimes.

"He seemed okay with it. He wasn't mad."

"That's good."

"Well, I don't know. I think maybe it's because he got it and knew he had it because he was the one who kept pushing for us to get tested. And then he was okay when I came back positive? It's just sketchy."

"It's treatable, though. Maybe that's why he's okay with it."

There was a pause and his voice came from further away. "Now he's saying it had to be me that gave it to him."

"He just texted you that?"

"Yeah. Hold on."

As Drake waited, he rubbed his cat's soft fur. It was a miracle if he and Rhinestone could have a phone call without his friend receiving another call or text and making him hold.

When Rhinestone spoke again, he said, "Okay, so, yeah. He said it had to've been from me because he only slept with his ex and he knows the crowd that his ex has been with and knows they don't have it. Hold on." He was gone for another bit of time, but it wasn't incredibly long. "But anyways, yeah, because he always felt like what I did was worse because I went and fucked a total stranger and he just slept with his ex."

"I don't see how that makes sense," Drake said. "If you fuck a stranger, I mean, it's not okay, but if you fuck your ex, there are, like, emotions involved and shit."

"Exactly. Plus, I just did hand and mouth stuff. He actually full-on fucked his ex," Rhinestone said, "and he lied about it. When he told me what he did — because I tracked his location with my phone when he wasn't home after I got off of work — he just said that his ex tried to touch him, but he pushed him away. It wasn't until weeks later when I was drinking that he told me his ex sucked his dick, and just recently, he admitted that they actually did have sex."

"Shit," was all Drake could say. He had no idea how on earth the two guys were still together, although he couldn't really talk, he supposed, because Clem had tracked his location plenty of times before.

"But anyway, yeah, so they sent an e-mail and it had a list of a bunch of STD's, and it was, like, 'negative, negative, negative,' and then it had 'anal gonorrhea: positive.' I was like, 'oh, shit.'" More high-pitched laughter.

"Anal?"

"Yeah, because there's three of them. There's oral, anal, and penile. That's a funny word."

"But when you cheated on him, you only did oral."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"If you have it in one place, can it just come up in other places?" Drake didn't know because he'd never had an STD or STI or whatever it was before.

"...I don't know..." Rhinestone was piecing together a puzzle. "Hold up. Lemme go back to my e-mail. I don't even think I finished it. I read anal gonorrhea and stopped and cried a little bit." After a minute, he said, "It says negative for both oral and penile gonorrhea, which means I had to have gotten it from Zach because no one else has put their dick up my butt," he assumed. "That means he has penile gonorrhea and he got it from fucking his ex up his butt."

"Do you think that's how that works?"

"I don't know. I've gotta go back up to the clinic tomorrow for medicine and stuff. I'm gonna ask." He laughed. "Oh my God, this is so great. Zach was trying to blame me and it wasn't even me. It was him and his ex and 'the crowd he knows his ex hangs around that wouldn't have it.'"

"Plot twist."

"Right? I can't wait. I'm gonna be like — I'm not gonna rub it in or anything like he would. I'm just gonna calmly explain to him that I only tested positive for anal gonorrhea, and his penis is the only penis that has been up there. I'll be like, 'So the only way I could've caught it would be from...you.'"

"Christ," Drake laughed. "Well, just don't say anything, though, until you ask the people at the clinic because you don't wanna say that and then be told that that's not how it works."

"Yeah, you're right. I'll wait until tomorrow, then I'm gonna tell him."

Drake noticed that his friend was much less...all over the place than normal. Also, he didn't sound drunk and he usually always called drunk. After quitting meth, Rhinestone had developed quite the drinking habit while living in Las Vegas despite rarely leaving the house other than for work.

"Are you back on your meds?"

"I am," Rhinestone said.

"I can tell. You're a lot less impulsive."

"And I quit drinking a month ago," he said.

He used to call Drake in the middle of the night crying about arguments he had with his boyfriend that started because of his drinking. There was hitting, name-calling, yelling, holes in the wall, things thrown off the dresser and onto the floor, an accidental (or possibly not) overdose on Ambien and Fireball, and much more.

"That's fucking awesome!" Drake congratulated.

His life seemed to center around congratulating others and being congratulated on sobriety. To any normal person, it probably didn't seem like much of a feat. Sometimes he liked to think back to when he was in his teens. Before he had started using Triple C's, he used to be able to hold normal conversations with people. He could get out of bed and pick out his outfit and get done what needed to get done that day. After he started using, he became dependent on the pills pretty quickly. The tasks he had been able to do without putting any effort into them became too overwhelming after he cleaned up. Getting out of bed without drugs was damn near impossible. Picking an outfit and making other decisions were stressful. Getting shit done — well, what was he doing with his life? Nothing. And talking to people was hard to do unless he knew them well.

It was crazy. Something that meant so little to most people meant everything to him — meant life or death for him. He wondered what was incredibly important to some other people that meant little to him. Maybe everyone felt the same things despite feeling that way about different things.

Rhinestone sighed with satisfaction. "Huh, I'm so glad I called you."

"You better call me tomorrow when you get out of the clinic and tell me what they say about how you got it. I'm very invested in this now."

"Boo, you know I will."

They continued talking about this subject for a little while longer, then the conversation turned to movies, Netflix and television shows, just like it always did. Rhinestone watched a lot of the same shows as he did, like American Horror Story and Shameless. They revisited the gonorrhea conversation and the currently-watching conversation a couple more times in between each one sprinkling in less exciting stories of recent events: Rhinestone, who had recently been promoted to manager at McDonald's, talked about having four people call out in one shift while Drake told the story about getting a library card, which he still kept short. They were on the phone for a total of an hour and thirteen minutes before they said their goodbyes.

Drake plugged his phone in to charge, then he laid his head against the pillow and rested his eyes. His cat, who had been exploring the bedroom, later joined him on the bed. He was so small that he needed the boy's help. He curled up next to Drake's neck and purred himself to sleep. As the young man closed his eyes again, he hoped that tomorrow would be just as great of a day as today was. He was a lot more tired than he had thought. Within twenty minutes, he was fast asleep.

---

A sharp pain shot through Drake's toe, waking him. He shook it off, but another one zipped through his foot. The tired boy groaned as he looked down at his feet, where his cat was playing curiously with his toes, which sometimes wiggled involuntarily underneath the comforter and attracted the animal's attention.

"Stop," Drake said quietly.

He used his foot to push the cat onto the other side of the bed. Mistaking this for play, the hyper kitten pounced on him, digging its claws into his skin once again. Drake scooted her away again. This process repeated way more times than it should have because Drake was so tired, but finally, he sat up and got ready to start his day. He took a deep breath through his nostrils and stretched, then he reached for his phone. The first thing he noticed was the time: 4:22.

"What the fuck?" he said to his cat.

He picked up the animal and put him on the floor so that he couldn't be bothered, then he laid his head on the pillow again, hoping that he could go back to sleep. However, his new pet began its high-pitched meowing when it couldn't climb all the way up the side of Drake's bed. Eventually, the boy gave up on sleep and stood. He wasn't feel sick anymore like last week, so he figured that, although he didn't want to, today would be a good day to start jogging again.

He called Julio from the upstairs bathroom as he brushed his teeth. His friend answered the second time he called. Seeing Drake's name on his phone so early sent a wave of panic through him and he feared that something bad had happened.

"Hey." His voice expressed his anxiety and confusion even though he tried to hide it.

Drake's voice was muffled from the toothbrush. "Are you ready for our jog?"

"Where are you?"

"The bathroom."

"Here?" Despite the sudden jolt of panic he'd felt receiving this phone call, he was still half asleep.

"Yes, I'm here."

There was a pause as Julio pieced all this together and realized that Drake was fine, then he said, "Why are you calling me so early?"

"To jog," Drake said again.

"Oh..." Julio wanted to say no, but he knew that this was Drake pushing him to do better just like they'd agreed to do for each other on the mountain that day. "Okay. Give me a sec."

After roughly twenty to thirty minutes, both boys were dressed and downstairs, the cat was fed and they were ready to go.

Drake asked something that had been on his mind since his phone call. "Did me calling make you panic? I thought you'd rather have me call than walk into your room, but..."

"I'd rather you wake me up in my room," Julio said, confirming that he had woken up anxious as fuck.

"Sorry," Drake said. He felt incredibly guilty and he wished that he could take that feeling of nervousness away from his friend and instead feel it himself. He wanted to make him feel better, but he didn't exactly have the means to do so. "You want a cigarette or something?"

"No, it's okay," Julio assured. He gave him a small smile, which only made Drake feel worse because Julio was pretending to be okay for his sake.

"I'm sorry," Drake said again.

"It's okay. I'll feel better when we run. Is the cat still in your room?" he asked, scanning the floor before he opened the front door.

"Yeah."

The two boys went outside for their morning jog and, just like he'd said, Julio felt much better during it.

---

Ricardo slumped down the stairs and into the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, which Drake had probably made for him, then he went through the foyer and into the living room, where he saw the boy, his hair damp from a recent shower. His eyes moved towards the television screen that his roommate was staring at.

"You're seriously watching Home Alone right now? Literally, we're days away from March."

"I didn't really get to do the whole holiday thing because I wasn't home," Drake responded, softly stroking his cat's fur as she rested peacefully in his lap.

"Why are you up so early?"

"Julio and I went for a run."

Ricardo sat down on his favorite recliner and sipped at his coffee while listening to the sound of the pouring rain beating down on the ground outside. "You guys went running in this?"

"It didn't start until we got back," he said. "You work today?"

"Yeah. Night shift, so it'll just be you and Julio for dinner."

"Julio's got a thing."

"What thing?"

Drake shrugged. "Study group, I guess."

"You gonna be okay on your own then?"

"I'll be fine." He saw that his friend was still worried, so he added, "I'll come up to the bar if I need to."

When Drake stopped rubbing his kitten's head, it lifted the upper half of its body and looked at him. After giving the boy a nudge and receiving no attention, it jumped down and went over to Ricardo.

"Ow! Christ!" The man set his coffee down before the cat finished climbing up his leg.

"Her nails are sharp as fuck," Drake said. He lifted his hand to show off a few long, fresh-looking scratches on his skin.

"Her?"

"I don't know. I'm just gonna assume she's a girl until she's old enough to grow balls."

"Name her yet?"

"I'm thinking Macaulay."

Ricardo glanced at the t.v. "After Macaulay Culkin?"

"I guess. I just like the name."

"It's a boy's name."

"Whatever," Drake said.

"You pick the weirdest names. Your other cat had a human name, too. You couldn't think of a cute cat name?"

"Cat names are so boring," he said. A wave of sadness hit him when he was reminded of Fonzie and his cruel death.

Wanting to be left alone, Ricardo put the cat on the floor, then picked up his coffee. "Got any plans for today?"

"I'll probably read a little, fill out some job applications, maybe go see Meelah."

"Wow." The man took a breath. He was immediately concerned by what Drake said. "Sounds like a big day. Firstly, you don't have to look for another job. You can come back to the bar."

"I think they all hate me."

"Trust me, Drake. They don't hate you. They ask about you all the time."

"I don't know. I might just wanna do my own thing," he said, but now that the bar offer was on the table, he would definitely consider going back.

"I understand, but even if you do wanna switch it up — I mean, do what you want — but I still feel like it's a little early, you know?"

"Yeah," Drake said uncertainly.

"I know you feel guilty about not paying for anything, but it's really okay. I don't want you to rush into anything. When Julio's anxiety got really bad and he quit his job, you and I took care of all the bills and shit until he worked through it and decided he was going to go to college and he got all that financial aid money. We're family. We take care of each other."

"Yeah, okay," he said more confidently now.

"I mean, but if you really wanna go back to work, obviously, I can't stop you. I just feel like your recovery should come first."

"You're right," said Drake. "I just hate not being able to help out."

"Why do you think you get stuck with dinner and dishes all the time?"

The young man cracked a smile.

"Plus, you keep things nice and tidy. I even noticed you finished up my laundry the other day. I definitely don't mind you staying home," Ricardo said. "Now about going to see Meelah-"

The front door opened with a, "I got doughnuts!" then a, "Oh, shit!"

"What happened?" Ricardo stood up.

Julio came around the corner with a box of a dozen doughnuts in his hand. "Drake, I'm sorry. Your cat just ran right past me."

The boy got off the couch and looked out the door, but he saw no sign of his kitten. "Did you see which way she went?"

"I think she went over towards the trees." He pointed with his head since his hands are full. "I'm so sorry. I can help you look for her."

Julio passed the box to Ricky and the two boys headed outside in the pouring rain. They called the cat by name and made clicking noises with their tongues. After five or ten minutes with no results, they gave up the search and headed back inside, both dripping with water.

"I'm so sorry," Julio said again, the pit of his stomach filled with guilt.

"It's okay," Drake assured. He understood that it was just an accident. In fact, he blamed himself more than he did Julio. He should've been watching her.

Ricardo approached from the kitchen. "Find her?"

"No," Drake said.

He patted his friend's shoulder. "She'll come back. She knows where she gets her food."

That's right. They fed her and Macaulay ate good here. Last night was fish. This morning was...well, it was cat food. This gave him some hope.

"I'm sorry," Julio said, still apologizing.

"Don't worry about it," said Drake. "Ricky's right. She'll probably come back."

The three boys made their way into the kitchen. Ricardo grabbed a doughnut and Julio picked up two and wrapped them up in a napkin. He was unable to eat them now because his guilt made him nervous, which in turn made him sick to his stomach.

"I have to go to class," he said. "I can help you look more when I get home."

"Okay," Drake said. "It's okay. Really, don't even stress. It was just an accident."

"I know. I just..."

"He'll come back when he gets hungry. And like you said, we can try looking for him in a little while."

"Okay," he said uncertainly, but he gave in because he was running late now. "Okay."

When Julio was gone, Ricardo looked up from his breakfast. He noticed that Drake's encouraging smile was gone and that he didn't pick up a doughnut. "You gonna have an episode?"

"I'm okay."

He honestly wasn't mad at Julio — not even a little bit. Instead, his brain reminded him of how incompetent he was at taking care of animals. He thought about Fonzie — about how he'd just left him with his dad that day. What did he think was going to happen? Martin had been pissed at Drake. Why wouldn't he take it out on the next best thing just to hurt his son? The haunting image of what Fonzie had looked like when Drake had found him was still clear as day. His poor, helpless kitten was laying in his own urine and stool. His fur was matted to his skin and all four of his legs were broken. He was hardly breathing when his owner had found him. He couldn't stop thinking about those sad eyes looking up at him. Fonzie had probably been so confused and he had to have felt betrayed by Drake for letting that happen. Who knows how long his pet had been left alone to suffer that way? Drake had been gone all night. Fonzie probably laid there just like that the entire time, scared and alone until he took his final breath. Martin had forced a knife into his son's hand, then he'd made him stab his kitten and slice him open all the way down his side. It was traumatizing to say the least.

Ricardo had gone upstairs to shower. Like expected, Drake had wallowed in his gruesome memories until he'd made himself physically sick. He was in the first floor bathroom, crying and vomiting and hyperventilating. It was insane how vivid his memories from almost three and a half years ago were when he couldn't even remember what he had eaten for lunch the day before.

This is the way Drake's mind worked with depression and anxiety. It started with his feelings of incompetency, then moved to the hurt look on Fonzie's face the day that he was killed, then moved to the horrid things his father had said to him that day (one being that he should kill himself). Next came the violent beating that left him with broken bones. After that was the blowjob he had been forced to give him...his own father. It was sick. He was ashamed of the places that his mouth had been — that his hands had touched. The way his tongue had moved over-

"Huuullggll!" Drake gasped for air in between each round of vomit that came up.

He could still feel Martin's hands all over him, exploring every inch of his body. He could still feel the man forcefully penetrating him. He could still see that stupid fucking grin! They were all suffocating him until he couldn't breathe.

"Please, stop drinking, Dad."

"You know why I started drinking again, Drake? Because I looked at you one night and saw just how much of a disappointment you are. You'll never amount to anything in your life. You hear me, your worthless sack of shit? You are a loser and a failure. You're weak and pathetic. You make me sick just looking at you. You're the reason I relapsed."

"I never meant to be this way."

"You should just kill yourself. We'd all be better off without you fucking us all over. You destroy everything you touch. Your relationships, your friendships, your family. You ruin everything."

"I'm not trying to."

"I know. It's an accident. You're an accident. You can't control it because it's who you are and who you'll always be."

"I don't want to be here anymore."

"I don't want you here either."

"Christ, Drake! What's going on?!" Ricardo exclaimed. He'd heard the boy's panic attack as he'd started down the stairs and had come running. "Hold on." He hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a brown paper bag like he always did for Julio, then he brought it back to Drake. "Here." He got on his knees in front of him. "Take deep breaths." He rested his hand on the boy's shoulder for comfort.

"Don't touch me," Drake just barely managed to sputter.

"Everything's gonna be okay-"

"Don't touch me. Don't touch me! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!" Even when the man pulled away, Drake kept screaming this.

"Drake, it's me," he said in a firm, yet calm voice. "It's Ricardo. It's Ricky."

Drake was shaking like all hell. He was bawling his eyes out, crying so much that snot was dripping from both nostrils. "Just don't touch me."

"I won't. You're safe. No one can touch you. I'm not gonna let anyone touch you." He repeated this a couple times until his friend stopped yelling and went back to just hyperventilating. "Listen to me." He opened the brown bag that was still in his hand. "Try this, okay? Just breathe into this. It's okay. Julio does it all the time."

Drake took the bag in his trembling hands and did as he was told.

"That's right. Just breathe. In and out. In...and out. Good. You're doing great. I know it feels like you're gonna die right now, but you're not. It'll all be over soon, okay? I promise. Just keep focusing on your breathing. Awesome. Awesome." He nodded as he watched Drake struggle to suck in air and let it out again. "There you go. You got it."

Drake pulled the bag away to show that his snotty nose was getting in the way. Ricardo grabbed the roll of toilet paper and tore some off.

"You wanna do it?"

There was too much going with Drake for him to comprehend what the man had said, so Ricardo reached out cautiously and wiped off his nose. Drake seemed to be okay with his touch now. Ricky grabbed more of the tissue and wiped off the rest, then he gently touched his friend's arm and lifted it up so that the boy would continue to breathe into the bag.

---

Drake was laying in his bed, curled up on his side with his back to the door when Ricky came back in.

"Hey," he said quietly as not to scare the boy.

Drake didn't respond, but it was obvious that he was still awake because he was still weeping and sniffling. Ricardo moved closer and sat down next to him on the bed. He stayed quiet for a while. He thought about rubbing Drake's back, but decided better of it when he remembered what his friend had been screaming about in the bathroom.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked.

"No." It was so quiet that the man hardly heard it. His chest and shoulders and entire torso in general were aching all over and he felt so weak that he couldn't even lift a finger if he wanted to.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

Ricardo sat there silently with his back against the wall until Drake cried himself to sleep and, even after that, he continued to sit there with him to keep him from suffering through nightmares.

---

"I can cancel with my calculus group," Julio offered from one of the bar stools in the kitchen.

"You don't have to do that," his brother replied. "He said he'll be fine."

"Who knows what that means with Drake, though?"

"He's an adult. We can't smother him. He hates that."

"I know. I just..." He sighed. "I just feel bad about the cat running away."

"Don't. It wasn't about that," the man said as he packed himself some leftover pizza for tonight's dinner. "I think it had to do with his dad. He kept screaming about not wanting to be touched."

"Shit. What brought that on?"

"I'm not sure. He didn't wanna talk about it."

"Fuck," Julio said. "And he's never had one of these before. I mean, he gets upset and panics or cries or throws up, but not all three at once. And hyperventilating to the point where he had to breathe into a bag — that's never happened to him before."

"Yeah, I think it really scared him — not being able to breathe like that. Probably just another thing that reminded him of his dad," Ricardo said, referring to the time Mr. Parker had attempted to strangle his son to death.

"I feel bad leaving him alone like this. I could text the group and have them meet here instead, but I know Drake's not gonna want a house full of people either."

"Eh, as long as you guys are quiet, he won't notice. I don't think he's getting out of bed today. He was supposed to go see Meelah, but when I asked if he was still going, he said that he wasn't."

"Okay, that's what I'll do," he said as he pulled out his phone.

Julio: srry its last min but can we possibly do stdy group my house? My friend isnt well & I dont wnna leave him by himslf

Zahid Calc: cool w me

"Are you closing tonight?" Julio asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, be careful in all this rain. I passed by two wrecks on my way home from school."

Ansley Calc: thats fine

"You wanna just order a couple pizzas for dinner? That way, you can make it up to your friends for the last minute changes," Ricardo suggested.

Hannah Calc/Comp: sounds good.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. I don't wanna have to cook dinner afterwards anyway."

"You need some cash?" his older brother asked.

Peter Calc: address?

"I got some," Julio said absently as he responded to his text.

"Alright. I gotta head out."

"Alright, bro." The boy slipped his phone back into his pocket. "I'm gonna go see if Macaulay's around somewhere. Maybe she can make Drake feel better if she comes home."

"Sounds good." Ricardo picked up his keys, then double-checked to make sure that everything he needed was in his hands. "Call me if you need me."

Julio nodded, then followed him outside. They went their separate ways: Ricardo to his car and Julio to the tree line, clicking his tongue as he went.

---

Julio tapped softly on Drake's door before entering. His study group was over and everyone had left. Like Ricardo had expected, the boy never came downstairs. He was still curled up in his comforter, but he no longer sounded like he was crying.

"Hey," Julio said cautiously as he approached him. "You hungry? I ordered pizza." This was all that he could offer because he hadn't been able to find Macaulay. Julio rolled a computer chair over to the other side of the bed so that he wasn't talking to his friend's back. "I even got one with pineapple because I know it's your favorite."

Drake didn't have the energy to eat or talk or move, but he managed a quiet, "Thanks."

Seeing that he didn't make a grab for it, Julio knew that he wasn't hungry. Panic attacks always made him lose his appetite, too. He set the plate on the nightstand, then looked at Drake. His eyes were open, but they were empty and he stared absently past Julio at the wall in front of him.

"Can I get you anything?"

Drake tried to say no, but his voice didn't come out. Julio understood anyway.

"I hate that you had to go through that. Anxiety sucks," he said, only to receive no response. "I know you probably don't wanna talk about it, but I just wanna remind you that I'm here. No judgments or anything, and if it started because of me letting the cat out, you can tell me. You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings."

Still nothing.

"It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it, though. I just wanna make sure you know that you don't have to go through this alone."

After sitting in silence for a good two minutes, Julio stood. He knew that Drake wanted to be alone so that he could wallow in his thoughts, but he wouldn't let him. All the lights were already off, but the sunshine came through the curtains in angelic rays. Drake preferred darkness, so Julio scooted onto the other side of the bed and rested his head on the pillow. He picked up the top of the comforter and stretched it all the way over both of their heads.

Within seconds, Drake started to feel calmer, although only slightly. Down here, under the covers, he couldn't see the rest of the world, so he didn't have to think about it. Right now, it was just himself and Julio. Usually, having something over your head made it hard to breathe. This was still true, but in a different way. Drake had to focus on taking in oxygen, then he'd let it out, feeling the hot air hit his face. Overtime, it required much more work, but it took his attention away from the rest of life's stresses.

"My study group was here earlier," Julio said.

They'd rested so long in silence that Drake had almost forgotten about him being beside him.

"Somehow we started talking about sharks for a sec." He knew that thinking about these creatures always made Drake feel better although he wasn't sure why. He assumed that maybe it was a mixture of the fact that 1). they lived underwater, which Drake envied, and 2). they were misunderstood — probably how he felt about himself. Julio continued. "Zahid started telling us about this fish — I don't remember the name — and it goes inside of a shark's mouth and cleans its teeth. And the shark lets it. It keeps its jaws wide open and lets the fish do its thing, and then that's that. The shark doesn't eat it. It's like they have some sort of understanding or agreement."

With this new and interesting information, Drake rolled onto his back. To Julio, this meant that he was starting to open up.

"Did you already know about that?" the boy asked.

"No."

"Me neither. It sounds unbelievable, right? It's real, though. He showed us a video about it. Wanna see?"

Drake nodded, so Julio pulled his phone out of his pocket. He typed something into YouTube, then held the phone up so that both he and his friend could see.

One video turned into twelve and, almost an hour and a half later, Julio's phone alerted him that his battery was beginning to run low. Also, his arms were pretty fucking tired from holding up the phone for so long. After this, Julio asked if Drake felt up to going outside. Ricardo had a balcony hanging off of his bedroom and it had a roof over it. That way, they would be protected from the rain, but they could sit and watch it storm, which he knew Drake liked to do. The boy agreed, so Julio put his cell phone on the charger, went downstairs to grab his friend's cigarettes and a couple beers, then met Drake on the balcony.

He took a seat in one of the patio chairs, then passed his friend a bottle. "I got you one," he said.

Drake thanked him, but it was hard to hear over the beating rain. They sat in another silence for a while as they admired the comforting sounds from the storm. Drake, who had laid in bed all day and was dying of thirst, finished his beer rather quickly, which seemed to open him up a little.

"Thanks for doing all this," he said between puffs from his cigarette. He was chain-smoking, so this was his third one already.

"That's what friends are for. You've been there for me plenty of times after my attacks."

"I didn't know it felt like that," Drake said. "Like, I actually couldn't breathe and I couldn't stop vomiting everywhere."

"I get nauseous a lot with mine, but I've never actually thrown up during one," Julio said.

Drake blew out a cloud of smoke. He felt so much better sitting out here under dark storm clouds and endless rain. He appreciated the time Julio had spent making him feel better, but he felt like he'd done it out of guilt maybe. "It wasn't about you," he said suddenly. "Or Macaulay."

Julio looked over at him for a moment, then straight ahead again because he figured maybe his friend would open up easier if he didn't feel like all eyes were on him.

Drake looked down at his lap with embarrassment. "I just started thinking about old shit again."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

"Sometimes it just hits, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that," Julio said. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I don't want you to start thinking about it again and getting upset."

Drake was grateful that his explanation was enough because he didn't want to go into further detail. "Thanks for everything you did. It really helped."

"That's good."

The two sat there and continued to watch the rain fall, chatting lightly in between bouts of silence. Even when they weren't talking, it was okay. They just enjoyed each other's company.

---

When Ricardo got home that night — or more correctly, that morning — he quietly pushed open Drake's door to check in on him. When he saw that the boy was sleeping soundly, he headed towards his own room. Before he was inside, he heard a noise behind him. His brother's bedroom door opened and Julio stepped out, looking slumped over and half asleep.

"You just got in?" the boy said.

"Yeah. How was Drake today?"

"Better. After study group, I hung out with him and he got out of bed."

"That's great," said Ricky. "Did he say what had caused it?"

"He didn't wanna talk about it. He just said it had to do with shit from the past. I just left it at that because I didn't want him to get anxious again."

Ricardo nodded. "I'm gonna go to bed."

Julio turned and started walking for the hallway bathroom. Over his shoulder, he told his brother goodnight. The oldest went into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Just as he removed his jacket, he heard a text alert go off. He pulled out his phone.

Dee: had fun tonight. See u soon?

He let go of a sigh, but he began typing back.

Ricardo: yeah for sure

---

Drake was awake. He and Julio had already went on their morning jog. Julio had left for school. Ricardo had soon followed, saying he had to work the opening shift, which Drake found strange because he rarely ever scheduled himself to open if he'd closed the night before.

Drake had the house to himself, which was nice. He absolutely enjoyed his best friends' company, but he also needed complete stillness and silence every now and then, too. For a long time, he read from his new library book. He lost track of time and managed to get through a good portion of Tweak, but he had to stop. Despite not being a meth addict himself, he was still triggered at times if something happened that he could relate to or something reminded him of Charlie. He loved the book, though. He just had to read it little by little.

The young man stood, then reached him arms into the air and stretched his back, hearing a few bones pop as he did so. Feeling somewhat anxious, he started craving a smoke, so he slipped on his jacket and opened the front door. The second he did that, he heard a "Meow," and he looked down at his feet. Macaulay ran past him.

"Bruh, what the fuck?" Drake said, scolding his cat for running away as if it could understand human talk and would reply to him.

Just before he could close the door, another cat about the same size as Macaulay bolted past him and joined the girl kitten in the kitchen. Drake followed them in there and saw Macaulay rubbing her body against the bag of kitten food that they kept in the corner of the pantry. The new cat followed suit.

"Ricky's gonna be so pissed..."

Drake let both of them eat, then he carried both cats upstairs and put them in his room so that they couldn't get out. Finally, he went outside to smoke and, as he lit his cigarette, he saw the sun shining through the clouds. It had rained consistently for the past couple of days. It was still supposed to storm more later, but for now, there was a break.

Since now was the best time, he decided to go to the cemetery, which he hadn't had the chance to do yesterday. He grabbed his pack of L&Ms and put them into the pocket of his jacket, then began his walk. It was roughly an hour and a half to a two hour walk because he took the long way. This was because he didn't want to have to pass by the truck stop on his way. It would've taken half the time if he had.

When he arrived, he followed the path to Meelah's gravestone, still familiar despite how infrequent his visits were. He'd prepared himself for this during his walk. This wasn't going to turn out like last time. He wasn't going to let himself get so distraught and upset. If he did, he'd call Gem or Rhinestone or Sawyer — anyone who was off work and had the free time to distract him from his own sadness.

He sat down, putting his jacket between his bottom and the damp ground. He filled her in on what had been going on in his life, apologized a lot, cried a little, then talked about his new kittens, one of which he hadn't told Ricardo about. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, chain-smoking and then putting the butts back into his almost-empty pack to keep Meelah's resting place clean. The sky above him was getting dark despite the time, which meant that he was most likely going to get caught in the rain on his way home. He didn't mind. It was hard to pull himself away from here anytime he finally convinced himself to come.

"Drake?"

The boy turned his head. He hadn't heard anyone approach, so the sudden call of his name sent a wave of panic through him and his heart started beating even faster when he saw who it was: Mr. and Mrs. Harmon, Meelah's mother and step-father. Drake put out his cigarette and, like he had done with the rest, he put it into the pack, then he stood.

"Hi," he said, his anxiety growing. It had been years since they had seen him. He wondered if their love for him had finally dissipated with their distance and if hatred had settled into their hearts.

His question was answered when Mrs. Harmon pulled him into a hug. As her husband took his turn wrapping his arms around Drake, she said, "It's so good to see you. We haven't heard from you in a long time."

"You, too," he said, suddenly shy around these people despite their home having been his second home just a few years ago.

"I was wondering if you were still in the city. It's been so long."

"Yeah, still here."

"You look...you look great," Mr. Harmon said after giving him a once-over. He smiled proudly. He gave him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder without mentioning drugs and his noticeable abstinence from him.

"Thank you." Drake didn't know what to say and he found it hard to make eye contact with either of them. He knew that he should say something, but he kept freezing up. Why am I so fucking nervous? Christ, I hate myself.

"Where have you been staying, dear?"

"With a couple friends. Th-they took me in and helped me get clean." Great, he was stuttering now.

"That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks." He gave a small smile, which was forced despite the fact that their comment would've made him feel good if he wasn't so damn anxious. "Um, well, uh, I've gotta get going — to make it home before the rain."

"Did you walk here?" Mr. Harmon asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, hey, we just came to place these flowers and say a quick hello." He held up a bouquet that he had in his hand: sunflowers, Meelah's favorite. "Why don't you stick around a second and we'll take you out to lunch? We'd love to catch up."

Drake didn't want to, but for some reason, he was too scared to say no — probably because he was the reason their daughter was dead. "Okay."

---

Drake kept his hands under the table because they were shaking and his head hang low so that his bangs covered his eyes.

"I'm just so glad we ran into you," Mrs. Harmon said.

"Yeah," Drake agreed for lack of something better to say.

"So how long have you been clean, dear?"

"Not long," he admitted. "I mean, I first sobered up almost three years ago, with a few minor slip-ups every now and then. Recently, though, I had a really bad relapse. Like...really bad, but my friends helped me through it."

"That's great. We're so glad you have a good support system behind you."

Mr. Harmon nodded his agreement. When the waitress came over and delivered their food, he thanked her.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked.

"We're fine. Thank you." He gave her a smile, then turned his attention to his plate when she was gone. He reached for some salt, then pepper, then picked up a piece of toast.

Drake wasn't hungry. In fact, his nervousness had made him nauseous, but he felt like it was rude if he didn't eat. He picked up his fork and jabbed at his scrambled eggs with cheese. Waffle House made the best scrambled eggs with cheese. Drake had found out their secret. After a quick Google search a couple years ago, he'd learned that you use a spoon rather than a whisk to stir the eggs. It was amazing how one simple utensil could change everything.

Mr. Harmon was staring at him with adoration as he chewed his toast. "Man, it's so great to see you, son."

With those words, a new feeling washed over Drake, making him warm and less anxious. His eyes got wet, but he kept his tears back. Meelah had the best fucking parents. God, if only his own father had been even half the man Meelah's step-dad was... Things may have turned out so differently. He imagined coming home and being greeted with a hug or a wave or a nice "hello" or even just a smile. Anything was better than the punches and kicks and name-calling and curses and slaps and glares that he had gotten so accustomed to. He tried to picture what it felt like to go home...climb up the porch steps...open the front door...and not instantly become overwhelmed by waves of fear and dread. He was one of the best dads out there and he was only her step-dad. He had no obligations to really love and care for Meelah as his own, much less her lousy junkie boyfriend, but he did. Both he and his wife did despite the fact that their precious, beloved daughter was dead and six feet under the dirt because of him.

Fuck, and here come the tears.

"What's the matter, son?"

He wiped them away and sniffled. "I just get these...crying spells sometimes," he said. "My emotions are all out of wack since I got sober."

The couple looked at each other, then Mrs. Harmon reached her hand across the table and put it on top of his.

"I was the same way," she said. "After Meelah passed, I went through a really rough patch."

This didn't make Drake feel any better. This time when he spoke, his voice raised a couple octaves. "I'm sorry."

"No." She leaned closer. "No, dear, it's not your fault. Not at all."

Mr. Harmon nodded his agreement. "We don't blame you even a little bit."

"But I was the once who convinced her to use. I was so desperate to get high and I thought that if I got her to get high with me, then she would be mad at herself and not at me afterwards. I'm so selfish."

"Drake, sweetie..." She gripped his hand now. "Look at me, dear." When he did, she said, "No one blames you. We don't blame you. Meelah wouldn't blame you and you know she wouldn't want you to blame yourself. You know how it works, Drake. If someone offered drugs to you or mentioned them and you relapsed, would you blame them or yourself?" She had a point.

"Myself."

"She wouldn't want you destroying yourself over what happened. You know that she only ever wanted you to be happy."

Drake choked out a quiet sob then. Christ, I'm crying in the middle of a fucking Waffle House.

"When Janine went through her rough patch," the man started, "we made her an appointment with a doctor and they gave her medicine — Zoloft."

"It really helped," she said.

"Have you ever tried seeking help?" Mr. Harmon asked. "Maybe a therapist or a counselor or something?"

"I have an appointment coming up. My friend made it for me."

"That's great."

Mrs. Harmon nodded. "There's nothing wrong with talking through your feelings and taking medication. It can really help you get back on track and start living your life again."

Drake believed her because she seemed to be doing very well for herself. He was happy for her because she deserved only the best in life.

"You know..." George looked over at his wife before saying, "your mother really misses you."

For the first time since he had seen them back at the graveyard, he lifted his head and met his eyes.

Janine nodded. "She still thinks about you. She talks about you all the time. She never stopped loving you."

"How..." Drake's words got caught in his throat. He sniffled. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, dear. We have dinner with them every Friday. We've all gotten really close because we've both suffered through something similar. We've all experienced the loss of a child."

"She mentions you every time we're there," George said.

Drake hung his head again. "I thought she hated me." He wiped his eyes, but more tears flooded down his cheeks. He couldn't finish his thoughts because he would start bawling loudly if he opened his mouth right now.

"No, not at all." Mr. Harmon stood and scooted into the booth next to the boy. He wrapped his arm around Drake while his wife kept her grasp on his hand. "She could never hate you."

"When I relapsed," Drake started cautiously, "I went back home, but she wasn't there."

"She moved. Money was tight, so they had to sell their place."

"She said she left a forwarding address," Janine said.

"They didn't have one," said Drake. "But they said that another couple had lived there before them — someone other than Mom and Walter."

"The address probably got lost then," she said.

"You should go back home," Mr. Harmon said. "Just for a visit. Just to let her see that you're doing so much better."

"I've made so many mistakes," Drake said, his voice cracking. "I'm so ashamed."

"Oh, sweetie..."

"You never, ever have to feel ashamed around family," George said. "They're the ones who love you unconditionally."

Drake wasn't so sure that this was true. "I was living on the streets for a while. I've done a lot of things for people... I was..." He couldn't get himself to say it, but he didn't need to because they got the gist. "I'm so disgusted with myself for letting it go that far," his voice squeaked. "I don't think I would ever be able to look at her after everything I've done. I've sacrificed everything — my entire life and even everyone else's lives around me — just to get high. I don't know why I did it. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Oh, honey, nothing is wrong with you," Mrs. Harmon said.

Drake choked out more quiet sobs. Luckily, they had picked a corner booth and the nearby tables were unoccupied, so no one else noticed that he was crying just yet.

"I'm just so ashamed of myself," he said. He covered his dripping eyes with his hand as more sobs came out.

George squeezed him tighter and rubbed his bicep soothingly.

Janine gently slid her thumb against the skin on the top of his hand. "Well, you're clean right now. That's all your mother cares about. That's all anyone cares about. We're so, so, so incredibly proud of you."

"You don't have to go home if you don't want to," Mr. Harmon said. "We just wanted you to know that Audrey still misses you and cares about you and thinks about you all the time. We can stop talking about it if it's making you upset."

Drake could feel Janine pull her hand away. She dug inside her purse and pulled out a pen, then a napkin from the dispenser. She wrote something down, then she folded it up.

"Here." She slid it across the table. "You don't have to decide now, but if you start thinking about going to see her, this is her address. Okay, dear?"

"Okay," his voice cracked. He took the paper and put it inside his pocket.

"And I wrote both mine and George's cell phone numbers on the front in case you ever need to call. Anytime you need. Even if it's the middle of the night. We're here for you," she said. "You remember how to get to our house, right?"

Drake nodded. He could never forget those walks to Meelah's house. "Thank you," he said. "You both are so nice to me."

"We love you, son," George said. "We want you to get through this and come out of it even better than before. We'd do anything for you."

"Thank you," he said.

He felt an overwhelming wave of love wash over him. So often, he thought about how much everyone probably hated him (even if they didn't) and how much he hated himself. Ricardo and Julio were great, but now their promises that Drake did deserve love and happiness were validated by two more people who had known him for a long time and who knew a lot of the bad shit he had done.

He wiped away his tears and sniffled, hoping that this episode was coming to a conclusion.

"You alright?" the man asked, looking down at him.

"I'm okay." Drake dried off his cheeks and sniffled again as he pulled out of his embrace. "Thanks."

Mr. Harmon playfully rubbed his hand through Drake's hair to mess it up like a father might do to his son. He gave him a smile.

"Okay." Drake took in a breath and then let it out to calm himself. "Well, I guess that was my meltdown for the day."

The other two laughed softly at his joke, making the corners of his lips turn upwards into a smile. They went back to eating their food, Mr. Harmon staying in his seat next to him for the remainder of their lunch (which consisted of breakfast food). They sat there chatting for hours, talking about anything and everything. The Harmon's told him about Meelah's brother coming home for a visit recently and a promotion Janine had gotten at work and a crazy experience that had happened to them in the drive thru days before. Drake told them about Clementine and what was going on with their relationship, having his first hardcore panic attack yesterday, how kind and supportive Julio and Ricardo were, recently getting a library card and much more. Sometimes, things would get personal, but there were no judgments at that table. Drake felt like he could really talk to them, so he didn't mind telling them about his time on the streets. He just didn't go into much detail about the sex stuff.

When they were finished, they left a big tip as a thanks to the waitress for refilling their coffees and allowing them to stay although they had finished eating long ago. They dropped Drake off at home, but no one was ready to say goodbye.

"Thanks for the ride," Drake said, leaning down so see both adults through the passenger's side window. "Today was really good."

"Now you remember to come give us a visit, okay, dear?"

"And call if you need anything or if you just wanna talk," added Mr. Harmon.

"I will," Drake promised. "Thanks for everything you did."

"Of course, son."

Janine reached her arm out and gave him one last squeeze around the neck while kissing his cheek. "Don't forget to think about what we said. Your mom really misses you."

"I will," he said and he meant it. He stepped back as George put the car in reverse.

Just before they were fully backed out of the driveway, Janine yelled, "And be good! Or else I'll whoop your butt!" She grinned and both her and her husband waved as they started down the street.

Drake went inside and made his way upstairs. He was about to go into his room, but Julio called from down the hall. Drake went over to his door and saw his friend scrolling through his phone as music played.

"What's up?" Drake said. He walked inside and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Nothing. It hasn't been long since I got back. Where'd you go?"

"I went to see Meelah, but then I ran into her parents and they took me out for lunch and we all just talked."

"Hmm," he said. "How'd that go?"

"Really good actually. I mean, at first, I was really anxious and shit, but then it got better." He pulled out the folded-up paper Mrs. Harmon had given to him. "She gave me the address to my mom's house."

Suddenly way more interested in the conversation, Julio put his phone down and sat up straight. "Shit, dude."

Drake stared down at it. All he had to do was open it and he could go home. He could reunite with his mom and his sister and Josh and Walt...Walter, the man who had made him promise to stay away forever.

"You gonna go?"

"I don't know," he said. He put it back into his pocket.

"Well, if you decide to and you want some backup, I got you, fam."

"You're saying fam again?"

"Oh, and I heard your cat meowing in your room. You found her?"

"Yeah, I guess I should let them out for a little while."

"Them?"

Julio stared at him and Drake just stared back. He hadn't meant to say that. Oops.

"You're gonna be in so much trouble." Despite his serious tone, he was smirking.

"Or-" Drake started, putting extra emphasis on the word, but he was interrupted.

"Nah, nah, nah, don't rope me into this."

The young man left the room, then quickly returned with the new, orange cat in his arms and Macaulay trailing behind him. "But look at her cute, little face," Drake said. He forced the cat into his friend's hands, then he picked up a jealous Macaulay.

Julio's features softened as he pet the cat. "She's very cute," he said. "And soft." He looked up at his best friend, who was watching him with hopeful eyes. Suddenly, he realized that this was a manipulation tactic and he had been close to falling for it. "Still not getting involved with this whole thing." He stood and handed the kitten over, then made his way down the hall.

"You suck." Drake carried his cats down the stairs, then he set them in the floor, locking the front door this time just in case. He went into the living room, where Julio had turned on the PlayStation. "What are you about to do?"

"Play this game I bought."

"What is it?" Drake sat down and his cats were in his lap and climbing up his torso in no time.

"Detroit: Become Human."

"That's that one you were talking about made by the creators of Heavy Rain?"

"Yeah."

"I love that game."

"I've been waiting for you to get home before I started it. It's already downloaded."

"You have school tomorrow?"

"Nope, which means I'm probably not stopping until I finish. Hope you're not sleepy."

Drake liked times like this. The last time they had binged their way through a game was when Julio had played Life Is Strange. They'd stayed up all night eating junk food and drinking beers, but spaced out because neither had been looking to get drunk. Julio usually played the kinds of video games where the player has to make choices that affect whether characters live or die or something, so Drake just watched and offered up his input.

"Bruh, get your cat."

Drake grabbed Macaulay off of Julio's shoulders, her claws digging into his shirt until she was forced to let go. "You really think Ricky will be mad about this other cat?"

"I don't know. You get away with a lot more shit that I can." After a moment, he said, "Probably because you fucked him."

"Fuck off."

"Shit, he'd probably buy you a car if you asked him."

"You think?"

"Maybe. You'd probably have to fuck him a couple more times, though."

"I'm not totally above that," he said, pretending to consider it.

Julio shook his head with a grin as he looked down at his controller. "Christ, Drake."

---

"Well, shit, I thought it would give me a choice about whether or not I wanted to rat the other android out," Julio said. "Now I feel bad. Connor's rude."

"I like Connor, though," Drake said, "And Hank."

"Really?"

"Yeah, like, he's an asshole, but I don't know. He's funny."

"Connor's out here arresting his own kind. These androids just wanna be treated like people and not be slaves."

"He's programmed to do that, though."

"I guess. I just want him to be a deviant."

In Detroit: Become Human, you play three different characters, who are all androids (or robots). The androids are bought and sold to basically do whatever humans want, but some of them begin to break away from their programming and make their own choices (or more correctly, the player's choices). Connor is working with the police to capture androids who have developed a mind of their own. These "vigilantes" are known as deviants. Another character named Kara is basically a maid and nanny. The last character, Julio's favorite, is a caregiver named Marcus, whose disabled "master" is actually rather kind.

The next scene began by showing a close-up of the female android as she woke up a man sitting on a couch.

"It's Kara again. Great, this douchebag is probably gonna make me do chores again. Just what I was hoping for when I started playing this game."

"I think it's pretty cool," Drake said. "It makes it feel more real and you get to explore." After a pause, he added, "I could do without these sex noises that guy makes when he inhales these drugs, though. Christ."

Julio laughed with agreement. "Why does it sound like that?! When I was cleaning the downstairs earlier, I thought he was just casually jerking off in the living room. Like, bruh, your daughter's right there."

"Nah, instead, he's just casually doing drugs in front of her."

"Well, fuck, they're gonna make me serve this bastard dinner. I'm not pouring him water. I'm just giving Alice water. He can fucking choke and die."

Pretty soon, the father on screen started ranting and yelling about whatever the fuck, then he stood suddenly, tossed the table to the side and smacked his young daughter's cheek.

"Fucking hell," Drake said quietly.

"This guy's such a prick," Julio said.

Alice, who looked to be about nine or so, ran upstairs while the dad Todd started screaming again after ordering Kara not to move.

"Fuck him. I'm going upstairs."

"I feel like...are you sure, though?"

"I'm just supposed to do nothing?"

"I mean, maybe if you listen to him, he'll calm down, right?"

"Is that how that usually works?"

Drake thought back to times when his dad would start raging. No matter what he did, he always got a beating in the end, even if he did try his best to do everything that was asked of him. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it could've been, but it still fucking hurt. He was way too invested in this game right now.

Before he could say more, they both heard a noise and turned back to the screen. Todd was removing his belt.

Drake's forehead creased. "Oh, what the fuck?"

"I'm going upstairs." Julio pushed on the joystick.

It took a moment for his character to break through her programming and, by the time she was finished, Todd shoved her out of his way and stomped upstairs.

Despite the fact that it was just a game, Drake was anxious as fuck. He was glad that he wasn't playing because he froze in situations such as this one. It took a lot of willpower for him to keep himself in the present when all his brain wanted to do was relive the past. He considered leaving the room, but he didn't want to make Julio feel some type of way. However, it was too late for that.

"Damn, why is she so fucking slow?" Julio said.

Kara made her way up the steps and screaming could be heard coming from the daughter's room at the end of the hall. Julio had already made a mistake by waiting too long to go upstairs, so he wanted to make sure he didn't make any other choices that would trigger Drake. He could go into the father's room and grab the gun he had found earlier, but he made a quick decision against it due to what had happened in his friend's past. Hopefully, this choice wouldn't end in any character deaths. Well, except Todd's. Fuck Todd. Kara went straight to Alice's room and a lengthy fight broke out between her and Todd, with Julio having to successfully press a bunch of buttons for the quick time events. After a few minutes, both Kara and Alice escaped.

"Goddamn, that was crazy." Julio finally relaxed his muscles. "I was about to be pissed if I killed Kara."

"Quantic Dreams doesn't play when they make games. I thought something else was about to happen when he took off his belt."

"Whoo," Julio sighed. "Well, Kara's a deviant now, so that's one." After a moment, he said, "I'm not trying to make a big thing about it, but are you cool?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"I probably should've read the parent's guide, I guess. Ricardo usually does that shit. I forget."

"Nah, it's fine. It was intense, but...it's a game, so..." Drake started petting Macaulay's tiny head when she nudged him. "At least it's you playing and not me. I probably would've gotten them both killed." He picked up his kittens and set them down on the couch. "Lemme smoke, though, before you start the next chapter."

"I've gotta go to the bathroom anyway," Julio said. "Watch your cats. They're following you."

---

Ricardo clenched his teeth as he stepped inside the house. His muscles were tense while he pushed the door shut, slowly...slowly... Okay. He eased his wrist back to normal position, gradually turning the knob back to its original way. The man winced when it let go of a click, but other than that, he was in the clear. Now he began to tip-toe across the floor, but stopped dead in his track upon passing the living room, where Julio and Drake sat, staring with confusion and curiosity in his direction.

"Why are you being so sneaky?" Drake asked.

"I was trying to be quiet," was his response. "I thought you two would be asleep."

"And you're late, young man," Julio scolded with his hand on his hip as he pretended to be his brother's parent. "It's almost four in the morning. I thought you got off work at midnight."

"I worked late," he said defensively despite his brother's playful demeanor.

"You're back on those drugs, aren't you? I knew it was too good to be true." He put his hand on the back of his forehead with exaggeration like women did in those fifties and sixties films that Ricardo watched.

Drake continued to study the oldest, who rolled his eyes as Julio fake-fainted. That's when it came to him. "You were getting laid."

Julio, now interested for completely different reasons, dropped his act immediately. "My brother is finally getting some? And you weren't gonna tell us?! Come on," he motioned for him to sit down, but Ricky didn't. "Deets! Is she hot?" was Julio's first question.

Drake elbowed him, then asked, "What's her name?"

"Dee," Ricardo said. "And that's all I'm telling you." He turned and started upstairs, ignoring his brother calling after him.

After he was gone, Julio said, "Dee? That's the girl from It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia. I bet he's totally making her up."

"You're an asshole. You know that?"

Julio smirked as he pressed play on his video game. "Yeah. I learn from the best." He nudged his friend, which frightened the new orange kitten, who lifted her head off of Drake's lap.

The young man rubbed her with his thumb and pointer finger softly so that she would go back to sleep. "He didn't say anything about the cat."

"He was so flustered about being caught that he probably didn't see her," said Julio.

Just then, Drake received a text, which lit up the entire dark living room. He leaned forwards and picked his phone up off of the table.

Ricardo: and why the fuck are there 2 cats now?

---

Ricardo bounced cheerfully down the stairs and into the kitchen, which definitely confirmed for Drake that he had gotten laid the night before. He greeted Drake with a smile, then poured himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a banana. Ricky turned back to his friend as he leaned against the counter and noticed him spinning a folded napkin on the island top.

"Did you and Julio go for a run today?"

"Yeah. Going to work?" Drake asked when he noticed the man dressed nicely.

"Gonna grab brunch with Dee."

"Brunch, huh?" He smiled, but still stared absently at the napkin at the same time.

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

"Don't make fun of me. You know when it comes to dating that you do more fluffy shit than anybody. Clem had you whipped."

"Yeah, you're right," he surrendered. He was curious to know why Ricardo had kept his relationship from everyone, but he didn't confront him about it. "How long have you and Dee been going out?"

"Literally, just a few days. We just really hit it off, though, so we've been spending a lot of time together."

"Am I gonna get to meet her any time soon?"

"Maybe." To change the subject, he nodded towards the napkin. "What's that?"

"I ran into Meelah's parents yesterday. They gave me Mom's address."

"Oh, shit, well, where do they live?" He now wore a serious look on his face.

"I haven't opened it yet," Drake replied. "I don't think I'm gonna."

"Why not?"

Drake chuckled as if the answer was obvious. "Because I'm a fucking mess," he said. "I can hardly stay sober and I don't wanna bring all my chaos back into her life. Plus, what if Mindy still lives there with the baby? I've got a fucking kid who I haven't even bothered to take care of. How shitty is that? And I'm just supposed to show up out of the blue as if I didn't put them through hell...without even being confident that I won't do it again? I mean, just weeks ago, I was living on the streets, pimping my ass out for a few bucks. Do I really wanna bring that shit home to my mom?" After saying these reasons out loud, Drake made up his mind. He scooted off of the bar stool and tossed the napkin into the trash can, then sat back down, his heart beating fast despite the calm look on his face. "And besides, Walter told me not to come back, so..."

"Don't you think he regrets it?" Ricardo asked, watching Drake, who continued to look down at his lap. "I mean, that was years ago and he was angry. You know people say shit they don't really mean when they're pissed."

"Well, it's better to assume he meant it than to risk thinking he didn't and show up and wreak havoc on their lives."

Ricardo grabbed the napkin out of the trash can. "Look, I'm gonna hold onto this, okay?"

"I really don't want you to."

"Because you know I'm right," the man said. "Don't stress about making the decision. A time will come when it just feels right and you'll know. It might not be anytime soon — or ever — but if it happens, I'll have this." He held up the napkin.

"Does Dee know you're this annoying?" Drake asked.

"Not yet. I keep that a secret until the tenth date."

"And how many dates have you two been on?"

"Well, we've hung out almost every day since we met, so this will be the fifth, I guess."

"Shit. You move fast."

"Well, I'm getting old. I'm thirty."

"Yeah, that's true."

Ricardo scoffed at him for not disagreeing. "You're a prick."

Drake smiled and shrugged innocently as Ricardo tossed his banana peel away and put his half-empty coffee mug into the sink.

"Alright, I've gotta go. Oh and," he looked at Drake, "don't let anymore stray cats in. You're turning into a cat lady."

The young man nodded. "Well, Agent Jack Bauer appreciates you letting me keep her."

"Agent Jack Bauer?"

"It's a Sunny thing. I mean, it's a 24 reference, but also a Sunny thing." He decided he could explain it better by saying, "Because Dennis got this junkyard cat when they were pretending to be cops-"

Ricardo stopped him by holding up his hand. "I don't even wanna know." He checked to make sure he had his keys. He was slightly concerned because he knew both he and Julio would be gone for most of the day. "Call me if you need me?"

"I will." Drake gave him a small, reassuring smile, then the man was on his way.

---

"So this is your room?" Sawyer said as he looked around.

Drake pulled his legs up to his chest in an unconsciously standoff-ish manner. Besides Clem and the one-night stands who came before her, the only other person (not currently living here) who had been in his room before was Gemini. It wasn't really a big deal. It was just kind of new because he didn't have any other friends.

Drake's room wasn't messy; it wasn't entirely clean either. It was just tidier than one would expect from a young man his age. There were some posters hanging up. One was from a depression-centered indie game called The Static Speaks My Name, where the player must kill himself at the end. This poster was black and white and read, "Today will be a better day," which was the first thing you see in the game because it was on the ceiling directly above the player's bed. Drake's was there, too. Another poster was the ending scene of Fight Club (painted), where the guy and the girl watch out the window as all the other tall buildings around them explode and crumple to the ground. Next was another black and white poster, also from an indie game (this one called I Woke Up Next To You Again). This was a choice game about addiction, except the addiction (Charlie, in Drake's case) was a person laying next to you in bed and holding a conversation with you after a seemingly one-night stand. This poster of an empty bed from the game had one of its many possible endings on it: I never saw him again. Drake also had a black and white bandanna hanging on his wall, which he had gotten after purchasing Cage The Elephant's Tell Me I'm Pretty deluxe set. There was a clown petting a deer, surrounded by confetti. The words on it read, "Everything's fine." Basically, some of the posters in his room served to show that he was in denial, which he found funny and joked about any time someone commented on them.

He had other posters that were movie or music related: The Beatles, Trainspotting, Nirvana, Rent, Panic! At The Disco, A Clockwork Orange, etcetera. He had a television with a DVD player and tons of his favorite films. There was no computer or laptop on his desk, but it had been there since he'd moved in and he'd never bothered to get rid of it. His desk had a few random knick-knacks scattered about that old, meth-addicted Rhinestone would've had a ball organizing. There was a rack in one corner of the room that held both an electric and an acoustic guitar.

"It's nice," Sawyer said finally.

For lack of a better response, Drake replied with, "Thanks."

Sawyer went through his DVDs, then his CDs before sitting on the swiveling desk chair. "We have such a similar taste." His eyes moved to the desk and he picked up the Nic Sheff book he saw there. "This what you're reading now?"

"Yeah."

"Any good?"

"It's really good," Drake said. "I think I read a hundred pages before you got here. I'm almost finished with it."

"Maybe I'll have to check this one out."

The young man stayed quiet. He felt so awkward and he hated himself for that. Sawyer was new, which meant that he had no obligations and could stop being Drake's friend at any time. Even still, Drake couldn't stop being so awkward.

Somehow, Sawyer picked up on this. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I probably shouldn't be going through your shit." He put the book down.

"No, it's fine. I just...I don't really know..." Drake sighed. "I don't really hang out with a lot of friends because I don't know what two guys are supposed to do together if they're not getting high."

"Well, what do you and Gem do together?"

"Lately? We get drunk."

"And before lately?"

"I don't know. I guess we just talk or watch movies or something."

"Well, we could just talk. I could tell you all about my job interview I had yesterday." He eyed the guitars in the corner of the room. "Or you can play something on your guitar. What about that song you walked out during at Flux the other night? I liked that one a lot. Or maybe another one? I'd love to hear you play."

"Really?" When Sawyer nodded, he said, "I'm kinda outta practice." But he picked up his acoustic anyway. "It's been a while since I've really played. I think it had been years until I picked one up last week to practice for the gig." After he got himself situated, he said, "What do you want me to play?"

"What about one you practiced that you didn't get the chance to play the other night?"

"Okay..." After a moment, he said, "Okay, I got one." He strummed the guitar to make sure that it was in tune, twisted one of the knobs, then tried again. Confirming that it was ready, he started strumming. Moments later, his soft voice came out.

She's in my head again
She knows where I have been
I'm going down that road again

She's in my bed again
She marks her fingerprints in my skin
I breathe her perfume in
And it burns like heroin

Now she's in me
And I can't let her go

And my bones are caving in
And she stole my faith again
And I wish you well
Oh, for the night
'Til you come again

She's in my veins again
But she knows that I'll bleed her out before I wake
Exhale her oxygen
She burns like heroin

Now she's in me
And I can't let her go

And my bones are caving in
Oh, she stole my faith again
And I wish you well
Oh, for the night

She's in my life again
But she won't ever win
And I wish you well
For the night
For the night

My bones are caving in
Oh, she stole my faith again
I wish you well
For the night
For the night

"Hot fucking damn!" Sawyer exclaimed, clapping his hands. "That was fucking amazing!"

Drake couldn't control the wide grin that curled up on his face. He humbly hid his eyes behind his bangs and tilted his head downwards. "Thanks."

"Did you write that or...?"

"I wish. It's by Badflower."

"When you sing it, you're singing about Triple C's or, like, an ex?"

"Triple C's. I feel like everything I ever sing is about them."

"That's what makes it so good, though. You sing with your heart," Sawyer said. "Play another."

"Okay." Drake felt much more at ease now that they had their icebreaker. He decided on another song, then began strumming the chords.

---

"I brought Chicken Run," Ricardo announced as he stepped into the house.

Julio, who had pulled into the driveway seconds after his brother, was right behind him, carrying a two-liter of Coke. They both set their things on the island as Drake entered the kitchen, his hair wet from a recent shower.

"What'd you get?"

"Twenty fingers: half tossed hot, half lemon pepper. You showered again?" he noticed.

"Sawyer and I walked a trail at High Falls. It was longer than either of us remembered."

"He got you out of the house. I like him."

"It's cool if he stays for dinner?"

"Yeah, of course."

Despite the fact that they had gotten a two-liter Coke with their meal, each boy grabbed a beer instead. Drake said he'd be right back as he picked up Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer. He carried them upstairs and into his room. Sawyer was exiting the bathroom then. He was wearing one of Drake's outfits and had his own wrapped in a damp towel.

"Thanks for letting me borrow these."

Drake nodded. "Laundry room's downstairs. We can wash your clothes and have dinner. Ricky got Chicken Run."

"Great! I'm starving!"

They went downstairs. Drake got his clothes started, then they made their plates and joined the other two boys in the living room, where Ricardo was inserting a DVD into the PS4.

"What'd you get?" Drake asked.

"Blindspotting. Something you and Julio won't argue over."

"Mm!" Sawyer started excitedly as he swallowed down his bite of chicken. "I've heard a lot of good things about this movie. I've been wanting to see it."

"Same here. Finally, for the first time in forever, it's something everyone agrees on. Julio and Drake are so picky."

"I am not!" Julio protested.

"Can you pass me that controller?" Ricardo asked.

Sawyer wiped his hands together to get off the fry salt and grease, then he picked up the PlayStation controller and gave it to the man, who then started up the movie.

---

Drake yawned, then stretched his legs before finally opening his eyes. It was a little after four. Pretty soon, his alarm would go off and he'd have to get up for his morning jog. He would've closed his eyes and savored every bit of sleep he could get, but his bladder was about to explode. Again, he stretched, then forced himself out of bed. He opened his bedroom door after seeing that his kittens were both still napping together on his comforter. He made his way to the bathroom, relieved himself, washed his hands, then brushed his teeth. Drake headed downstairs to get his sweatpants out of the dryer, but upon stepping foot in the kitchen, he noticed an unfamiliar face standing in front of the coffee pot.

"Um..." His eyebrows scrunched with confusion. "Hello?"

The man turned. He was dark-skinned and muscular with cute dimples that became even more prominent when he smiled. "Hi," he greeted kindly. "You must be Drake."

He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. Maybe doing so would clear up what the fuck was going on. It wasn't incredibly strange for there to be a stranger in the kitchen at this time of morning. It was, however, strange that it was a guy. Usually, Drake would run into hungover and half-dressed girls, so this one took him by surprise.

"Yeah..."

"It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot." He noticed that the boy was still confused. He walked over to him and held out his hand. "I'm Dee."

Drake shook it absently, his mind spinning. "Dee?"

He was thrown for a loop. This was not at all who he was expecting. Ricardo's secret significant other was...a dude? Why hadn't he said anything?

"Mm-hmm. That's what I go by. It's short for Darrel."

"Oh..." was all Drake could think of to say.

He was still shaking his hand until Ricardo entered the kitchen. This made Dee smile all over again.

"Hey, babe. I started the coffee for you."

"Thanks. You have time for a cup before work?" the man asked.

"No, I gotta hit the road. I'll text you later, though."

When the two leaned in and connected their lips, Drake swore he was dreaming. Dee stepped outside and Ricardo waited by the door as he got into his car.

"Be safe," the man said and Dee waved back. Ricky closed the door, then turned back to Drake, who hadn't moved a single step. He casually made his way over to the coffee pot, which was still running. He went ahead and pulled out a mug from the cabinet and set it onto the counter.

Finally, Drake found his words. "What the fuck, Ricky?" He didn't say it with anger — just confusion.

The man sighed, then motioned for him to sit down, which Drake did.

"So he's Dee?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Well...I mean...okay... I don't..." Drake didn't know what to say. "I mean, okay. So you're...?"

"I'm into guys," he admitted.

"Okay..." His gears were spinning and his mind was all over the place. "Okay..." He rubbed his eyes some more as he thought. "So, like...why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried," the man answered. "It just never felt right and I guess I was — I don't know — embarrassed or something."

"No, don't be embarrassed. I mean, I'm sorry. My reaction is total shit. I'm just half-asleep and it took me by surprise, but it's totally great. He seemed super nice. I just was confused is all. Like, you let me believe he was a she, but, I mean, shit, I guess I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"I mean, it makes sense that you did. I haven't dated much, but when I have, it's always been women."

"So...so this is what you wanted to talk about when Clem came over?"

"Yeah, I was gonna tell you then, but..."

"Shit, I'm sorry." His thoughts were still racing, so all he could say was another, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I mean, you asked me about it a couple times after, but it just didn't feel right anymore. I guess I've just been nervous and I knew I'd never really have the balls to tell you, so that's why I asked him to stay last night. I guess that was kinda messy and sudden-"

"No, it's totally fine. I mean, you know, I get that it's hard to say some things. You know I love you and I totally support you a hundred percent."

This brought a smile onto Ricardo's face. "Thanks."

Drake noticed that his eyes were glazed over and his fingers shook ever so slightly. "Don't." He said. He stood and walked around to the other side of the island, then he wrapped his arms around his best friend, who broke down at this. "Why are you crying?" he asked.

"I don't know. I guess I wasn't expecting you to be so okay with it."

"Of course I am. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn't. I'm glad you told me."

"I've just been hiding it for so long. Like, I knew I was gay, but I didn't wanna believe it, so I still went with women. And then, you know, we played Never Have I Ever at the cabin and you talked about your sexual fantasies about other guys and I started to feel — I don't know — like...finally, someone else understands me. At that point, I'd never had sex with another man before and I was super trashed, so I wanted to experiment with someone I trusted with my life. At the time, in that state of mind, it seemed like such a brilliant idea, but then things got all messed up. I didn't mean to treat you like shit. I know you got all self-conscious about everything. I should've said something sooner."

"It's okay," Drake assured. "I had no idea what you were dealing with."

"After that, I mean, I knew I couldn't keep denying it, but I thought if I told you, you'd think it's because I felt some type of way about you when, really, I used you, which I know is horrible and I felt so bad afterwards because I knew that you were really confused about your own sexuality at the time." Ricardo sniffled when he felt his friend rubbing his back. "I went out alone one night to get drunk because I was upset and confused. That's when I met Dee and we somehow just immediately hit it off. He's been so patient with me about everything. That's why I haven't been home much lately. It was hard to face you guys knowing that I was lying to you everyday."

"I'm sorry you felt like you had to keep all that inside of you, but I'm really glad you told me now. I swear nothing's gonna change between us, okay?"

Ricardo nodded against Drake's shoulder. "Yeah."

"And I think it's totally great that you and Dee found each other. He seems incredibly nice," he said. "And he's got those cute dimples," he added.

Ricky chuckled. "Yeah, he sure does." He pulled away and wiped at his eyes.

"You've literally saved my life countless times and I think the world of you," Drake said. "You're the best person I know. You deserve to be happy and you don't need to hide who you are."

"Thanks," he said. "If anyone was gonna understand, I knew it'd be you. Now I just have to figure out how to tell Julio."

"Just sit him down and tell him," Drake suggested. "He's your brother and he loves you more than anyone. He'll understand. I know he will."

"I don't know."

"Well, I do," Drake said. "And if you want, I can be there when you tell him. Unless you'd rather do it alone."

Ricardo took in a breath, then let it out, calming himself even more. "I should probably tell him alone. It's gonna be a whole other thing when he finds out I told you before him."

"He's not like that," the boy said. "So did you plan when you'd tell him?"

"Honestly, I kinda thought you'd both come downstairs at the same time and see Dee and I could just knock out two birds with one stone, so...no."

"Well, whenever you decide to do it, you can just tell me and I'll go fuck off somewhere," Drake said.

"You're still going for a run?"

"I was, unless you need me for something."

"No, I just thought that maybe I'd tell Julio after you two got back. He'd be awake and clear-headed by then."

"Okay." Drake nodded, then gave him a small smile. "I'm really proud of you," he said. "I know it's hard when it was such a huge secret. When everyone found out about my dad, it was pretty rough at first, but then I just started to feel more...free. Like I could finally breathe, you know?"

"I do feel better now that I've told someone."

"And if there's ever anything else, you can tell me. You can always tell me anything. Shit, you know everything about me. Sometimes, I think you know me more than I know myself. You've literally always been there and always let me talk or vent or complain or cry or whatever. I'm always willing to stop what I'm doing and do the same for you." He hopped up onto the island.

"Thanks," the man said, seeing that the coffee was ready. He wiped his eyes, then started to make himself a cup.

"All this time, I thought the reason you weren't going out was because, between work and dealing with my shit, you were too busy. This makes sense, though. I should've paid more attention."

Ricardo poured in cream and sugar, then stirred. "You couldn't have known. There's no way. Even I spent a good portion of my life lying to myself about it."

"So what happened to that hot doctor who gave you her phone number?"

"I called off the date. I've never done that before. Kinda felt like a jerk."

"So what you're saying is you don't care if I swoop in?"

The older one smirked as he took a sip of his hot drink. "I mean..." He shrugged. "Is that not weird? Usually, people just start with dinner, maybe a movie. Just from reading your charts, she pretty much knows your entire life story."

"I mean, might as well jump straight into the chaos if you're gonna be with me, right?"

Another sip. On a more serious note, Ricky said, "Aren't you and Clem working things out, though?"

"I haven't talked to her since the other day. I'm not really trying to get my hopes up. Like, honestly, if someone did that to you, would you take him back?" Drake looked down at his hands. "Anyway, I don't really like to talk about it."

After looking at the clock, Ricardo said, "Why don't you go wake Julio? I think he likes to go before kids start walking to the bus stop."

Drake let out a laugh. "Yeah, because that one girl literally hardcore fucked him with her eyes as we passed and her boyfriend got pissed and started yelling at us. Like, Christ, chill out. It's way too early for that. Kids are just so fucking awake so early. I don't get that. I feel like I'm still half asleep during the jog sometimes." Drake slid off the counter, but before he went upstairs, he said, "Also, since you're already up, you're doing breakfast, right?"

"Um, no."

"Great, so I was thinking waffles?"

"Mm, that's not too hard. I can actually do that."

"With blueberries?"

"Now you're pushing it."

"Literally, just sprinkle them on," Drake argued.

"I was kinda leaning towards chocolate chips, though."

"Ugh," Drake groaned. "Fine, I'll eat it, but I'm not gonna be happy about it."

Ricardo chuckled as the boy headed upstairs to wake up his friend and running partner.

---

Drake and Julio had finished their jog and Drake had separated from him in the front yard so that Ricardo could talk to him one-on-one. Although it wasn't intentional, the young man found himself at Clementine's doorstep. He rang the doorbell, then waited. What was he going to say? Why was he here? He didn't know either of these things. He had to ring the bell a second time and wait even longer before the door finally opened.

"Drake?" Dahlia said. "What are you doing here? It's not even seven yet."

"I've just been thinking about you," he said. "How's your...?" He gestured towards his own eye.

"It's better," she said. "Thanks." For a moment, they both stood in silence, but she broke it with, "So what did you want?"

What did he want? He didn't know. "I just wanted to see you," he said. "I miss you."

"Well, Drake, I'm sleeping," she said.

The longer he stood there, the crazier he felt. Why the fuck was he standing on his ex's doorstep at seven in the fucking morning again? He apologized, then started to turn and make his way down the steps and towards the sidewalk, but she reached out and grabbed his hand to stop him. He turned his head towards her.

Neither one said anything. He followed her inside and shut the front door behind himself. Clementine led him to her bedroom and they laid down. She snuggled into her comforter, then she pulled him closer so that he was spooning her. He wrapped his arm across her and held her hand, then kissed the back of her hair. She fell asleep like that in no time while he laid there awake, just resting his eyes and feeling comfort in her presence.

---

Author's Note: I don't have much to say. Just gonna keep this one short because it's late af and I'm tired. Em, thanks for taking the time to drop a review on my last chapter. That's totally cool. I'm glad you like the songs. To all my readers, if I ever include a song or movie or show or game that anyone's into, lemme know so we can talk about it. I would totally appreciate any and all feedback, whether good or bad. If you have any ideas, even if their just minor, irrelevant conversations you wanna see the characters have, lemme know and I'll see if I can fit it. Okay, so please review and have a good day/night.