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.

7. The Accident

"Holy shit! You know what?!" Rhinestone screeched into Drake's ear.

They had been talking for so long — or more correctly, Rhinestone had been talking for so long — that Drake's arm was aching from having to hold the phone up to his ear. They were well over an hour. It started with Rhinestone's update on the gonorrhea story — somehow Zachary's tests came back clean, meaning Rhinestone hadn't gotten it from him but also never let anyone else do anal on him — then the boy talked about literally everything else: work, home life, movies and tv, sobriety from alcohol, his relationship, movies and tv again, etcetera.

"What?" Drake responded.

"You were gone on your relapse during Christmas," he said, "which means you never got to hear my story."

"What story?" he asked as he lifted Macaulay up and set her down on top of his stomach.

"Oh my God. Okay, so it's Christmas, right? And I have to work that morning, so I go in at five, and I'm like, 'Okay, I have to work Christmas. It'll be alright.' So when I get there, Kent sees this guy outside laying down by the Walgreens and he tells me to go check on him. So I go over there and I'm like, 'Sir? Are you okay?' He doesn't answer. I leaned in and poked him. Still nothing, but I can see him better now that I'm closer to him. He's laying there with his mouth and eyes open and his arms kinda curled up and he's fucking dead!"

"What?"

"Yeah!"

"Bullshit." Despite saying this, Drake believed him. He knew that Rhinestone was a lot of things, but he wasn't a liar — not while he was sober anyway and not about things like this.

"I started running around and screaming for help, you know, because I didn't have my phone on me. I'm like, 'Help! Call the police! There's a dead body over here!' I'm freaking the fuck out because I've never just walked up on a dead body before. And I touched him, too. Can you imagine? That's like just walking down the street and coming across a dead body. He wasn't homeless or anything, so he was somebody's dad or — I don't know," Rhinestone said, talking so much that Drake couldn't get a word in even if he'd wanted to. "But anyways, so that's how I started my Christmas."

"Shit," was all that Drake could say.

"Yeah, and then this bitch at work was like, 'Well, did you try giving him mouth-to-mouth?' No, bitch, I'll leave that up to the paramedics."

"That's awful," Drake said.

Despite Rhinestone's indifference, he was sure that it had been pretty fucking terrifying at the time. He'd seen his fair share of dead bodies. His father had bled out in front of his eyes. Meelah had overdosed while he lay, high out of his mind, just a few inches away. Marcellas had shot Sammie in the head right in front of him and forced him to bury the body. These things were scarring and Drake would never forget them. Rhinestone was a lot like him whereas he could turn his pain and suffering into comedy and intriguing stories to tell friends and family over dinner.

Rhinestone sighed. "Yeah, but anyway, so what's going on with you and Dahlia? Any changes?"

"Yeah, we're — well, I don't know if we're officially back together yet. I mean, we've been talking everyday for the past week."

"Are you fucking again?"

"A few times."

"And she hangs around afterwards?"

"Yeah."

Rhinestone said, "Oh, you're definitely back together," but Drake only half-heard him because Julio had tapped on his door and pushed it open.

"Dinner's here."

Drake nodded. "Hey, Ricky just got home with dinner, so I'm gonna let you go."

"Okay, sweetie. I'll talk to you later."

Drake hung up, then went downstairs and into the kitchen, where he found Julio, Ricardo and Dee. "What'd you get?"

"Pizza. Meat lovers for me and Julio. I don't know. Dee put a bunch of shit on yours, but it's stuff you like."

Drake grabbed a plate and moved next to Dee, looking over the pizza that they were gonna share. Pineapple, red and green peppers, caramelized onions, mushrooms, jalapeños, spinach, tomatoes and extra cheese.

"I hope this is okay." Dee was a vegetarian, which Drake had learned the first time he'd joined them for dinner.

"No, totally, it looks amazing," he said, too excited and hungry to wait until he was seated before taking his first bite. "Oh my God. I'm fucking starving."

"Babe, you want a beer?" Ricardo grabbed one when Dee nodded curtly.

After getting everything situated, the four gravitated towards the living room and began talking about their day: Ricky and Dee about work, Julio about school and Drake — well, Drake just listened as he stuffed his face.

---

Drake drummed a short tune on the wooden door to get Julio's attention. "What up?" he asked as he stepped inside.

"Same as always," the boy said. He was resting against the headboard of his bed with a laptop on his lap as music played. "Homework."

"Grody. Hey, you haven't seen Agent Jack Bauer, have you?" He allowed his cats to roam the house freely during the daytime, but he kept them in his bedroom at night.

"Nah, I haven't. But, hey, listen to this song." He clicked on the mouse a couple times to restart the song that had been playing.

The goodbye is the hardest part
When we find ourselves back at the start
But I'm not so brave and I'm not so smart
No, I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor

"Who is this?" Drake asked.

"Right? It sounds just like Twenty-One Pilots, doesn't it?" he said, "But it's Grandson."

One day you will understand
Why I pushed you away as I ran
And you will find a better man than I am
Trust, I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor

Despicable
I'm just a bottom feeder
Despicable
I ain't never been a keeper
Despicable
Love her then I leave her
And if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither
Said if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither
I wouldn't love me neither
Despicable

"This song is dope," said Drake as he sat down in the computer chair.

"I figured you'd like it."

The boy who fell into the sky
Had no one there to watch him cry
He looked at you with his empty eyes
And said I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor

Despicable
I'm just a bottom feeder
Despicable
I ain't never been a keeper
Despicable
Love her then I leave her
And if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither
Said if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither
I wouldn't love me neither
Despicable

How I wish I told a different tale
Like we chased the light and his love prevailed
But his blood ran cold and his skin went pale
She got a letter in the mail, said
I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor
Said if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither
Said if I were you
Said if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither

When the song was over, Julio noticed that Drake was typing on his cell phone. "That Dahlia?"

"No, I was just adding this song to my playlist."

"So what does that make this? Like, the fifth song I've showed you that you've liked over the span of our entire friendship."

Drake cracked a grin, but it quickly disappeared with his concentration and he absentmindedly continued with the joke. "I think the fourth actually."

"Oh, my bad," Julio joked back. More seriously, he said, "You never like any of the songs I show you, but I like a majority of yours."

"I mean...listen to better music then."

"Excuse me?"

"You're music taste is kinda shit."

Julio scoffed. "Fuck you."

Drake clicked off his phone, then slipped it back into his pocket. He gave Julio his full attention now. After recalling what he had said, he retracted. "No, you know I just don't like the heavy voices. The lyrics are good, but I just don't like the sound of your music, which is fine because there have been songs I've shown you that you weren't into."

"The fact that we were ever able to be in a band together amazes me sometimes."

The boy chuckled.

"Drake!" Ricardo called.

"What?" he yelled back. He waited for a response, but got none. He rolled his eyes and stood. "Fucker always does that shit," he mumbled with irritation.

Julio grinned as he turned his attention to his laptop again.

"Anyway I'm about to go to sleep," Drake said. "I'm fucking exhausted and I haven't even done shit."

"Goodnight."

"You want me to close your door?"

"Yeah."

Drake did, then he went across the hall into the oldest's room. Ricardo lay in bed next to Dee. Both were smiling toothily and laughing about something one had said, but then Ricky noticed Drake enter.

"Your annoying cat's in here," the man said.

"She's not annoying," Dee argued. He pet the animal's soft fur as it rested on his lap and purred.

"I've been looking everywhere for her," Drake said.

"Dee's been rubbing it for the past half hour," the man said.

"Ricardo's just jealous I'm not rubbing something else," said Dee mischievously, only to receive a playful shove.

"Okay, well, that's my cue to leave." Drake took the kitten when it was passed over to him. "Night." He went back into his own room and gave Agent Jack Bauer a kiss before putting her down. He plugged his phone into the charger, drank some water, then laid down. He was asleep in minutes.

---

Ricardo let out a huge laugh, then turned towards the backseat to see Drake's face. The boy was less than amused as he looked up from his cell phone.

"Remind me why I came again," the youngest said.

"Because if you weren't here, who else would we crack jokes about?" Dee answered, taking his eyes off the road only for a second to glance at Drake through the rear-view mirror.

Ricardo laughed at this, too, then corrected him by saying, "So you can get out of the house."

Clem: gtg class is bout 2 start ily

Drake: txt me when ur home I love u

He wasn't one to shorten such serious, heartfelt words into three basic letters. "I think I've had enough of the outside world for one lifetime." He was referring to the time that he spent on the streets, but Dee didn't know this, for neither had filled him in on Drake's past.

"The fuck do you mean?! I love the outdoors!" came Dee.

Drake knew this. Not only was Dee a vegetarian. He was the kind of guy who woke up early, drank a protein shake or smoothie, then went to the gym, where he started his shift as a personal trainer after completing his own morning routine. He enjoyed going on hikes, going for jogs, walking park trails — basically anything that involved exerting energy. Yeah, he was that guy. He was tall, dark and handsome. He had muscles — noticeable and above average, but not body-builder huge. He had short hair shaved close to the scalp, a neatly trimmed beard and impeccable dimples. Oh, yeah, and he was a huge animal lover. Basically, a heartthrob who was both hot, adventurous and sensitive. He was perfect.

As they turned into the parking lot of the bar, Ricardo grabbed his travel mug. Dee pulled the car up front.

"Thanks for taking me," Ricky said. "Julio said his car should be out of the shop tomorrow, so I should have my car back then."

"I don't mind taking you to work."

"Drake, you wanna come in and say hi to everyone?"

"Uh...nah," he said as he clicked his phone off and slipped it into his pocket.

Ricardo saw his unease and didn't push further. "Alright. I'll be late for dinner. I get off at six."

"We'll wait. Bring a movie, though."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know what's out. Oh, yeah, I do. See if they have Eighth Grade."

"I've never heard of that. What is that? Is that another one of those movies that aren't given a wide theatrical release that you somehow find out about?"

"A24, right?" Dee said. "I'm excited for that Jonah Hill movie they produced."

"Oh, yeah, Mid90s," Drake said with enthusiasm. "I wanna see that."

"Okay, well, I'm gonna leave now and let you two carry on nerding out over pretentious hipster movies without me." Ricky leaned in a gave Dee a kiss. "Bye."

"I'll be here at six," Dee called after him.

When he was out, Drake climbed between the seats and plopped down in Ricardo's place. "So have you seen The Disaster Artist?"

"Are you kidding me? Tommy Wiseau is, like, the best thing to happen to the film industry. I met him at a screening actually. He and Greg were there to promote Greg's new movie Best F(r)iends."

"I heard about that. I never got to go see it." He had been preoccupied with making sure he had a place to sleep, food to eat and drugs to take at the time. "I'm so jealous."

"Back in college, me and my roommate used to get so stoned and watch The Room over and over again."

"What's your favorite line?"

"Hmm, that's tough. There're so many good ones." Dee thought for a moment. "Probably just the first one. That 'Hi, babe.' It kills me every time. Apparently, I say it to Ricardo a lot without realizing and he calls me out on it."

"Relationship goals," Drake said. "I wish I could get Clem to watch it."

"What's your favorite line?"

"Uh...geez, I don't know," Drake replied. "The first time I watched it was with my old friend Kenzly." This was a good day. They were having one of those days where you lay around in your underwear surrounded by a bunch of junk food and beer. "You know when he locks himself in a room after finding out about Lisa and Mark at the party and she's asking when he'll come out? And he says, 'In a few minutes, bitch.' I fucking lost it. It was bad. I started choking. Beer came out my nose and everything."

Dee laughed, which made Drake laugh.

"Like, I was sitting there fucking dying and Kenzly just laughed her ass off. My nose was burning, I couldn't breath, snot was dripping down to the floor — she just fucking laughed."

"Holy fuck! That's great!" Dee said when he caught his breath.

"It was just so fucking unexpected, you know? And he said it with such aggression. I mean, he had every right to, obviously, but Christ, I wasn't ready."

"I needed to go by the flea market and pick up my dad's watch. This guy there was fixing it. You wanna go or you want me to drop you off at home?"

"I'll go."

Picking back up where they'd left off before his question, Dee asked, "So who's Kenzly?"

Drake hesitated for a moment. Who was Kenzly? An ex? A friend with benefits? A childhood bestie? A best friend in general? A girl I totally wronged and betrayed because I let Clem control my life?

"An old friend," he answered finally.

"An old friend, huh? Is that it? I heard a pause there."

"We don't really talk anymore."

He didn't ask why because he could tell it was a touchy subject and it wasn't his business. He'd only known Drake for roughly a week anyway. "Hey, do you wanna change the music? Ricardo's great and all, but his music taste..."

"I feel you," Drake agreed. "He never lets me touch the radio in his car." He grabbed the auxiliary cord and plugged the free end into his cell phone. "What do you wanna listen to?"

"Whatever."

Drake looked through his playlists. None of their names were really relevant to what songs were in them, but he knew what song was where. The playlists he listened to most recently were named things like "Newbies," "Refresh," or "Shower Playlist #72738." When he was looking for new music, he usually could only find about six to eight songs at a time, then he'd listen to them on repeat for so long that he'd lay around for hours searching for new music. He chose one of his playlists and, the second it started, Dee chuckled.

"Oh, shit. I haven't heard this in years. Gorillaz, right?" When a voice came through the speakers, he began singing right alone with it.

I ain't happy, I'm feeling glad
I got sunshine in a bag
I'm useless but not for long
The future is coming on

"I used to listen to this all the time on the high school bus," Dee said as the chorus repeated. "This was my shit."

Drake joined him as he finished the chorus. Unlike Dee, he continued going when the rapping started, but in a comedic way that made the man laugh.

---

Dee walked a couple booths over with his dad's fixed watch in a case in his pocket. This booth was called The Puppy Corner and there were several puppies and kittens in cages inside. When he approached Drake, the boy was sitting in the floor up against the wall and petting some of the little cats. Dee almost couldn't find him due to all the people — mostly kids — crammed inside of the cell-like space and peering into cages. He squatted down and reached out to pet the kitten.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Drake accepted Dee's hand and was helped onto his feet. He gave the kitten back to the seller, then followed his new friend out into the parking lot and towards the car. He got inside and turned on some music again — this time, his '90s - '00s playlist because Dee seemed to like the last nostalgic song that he played. Sublime's What I Got came on when he clicked shuffle.

"What are your plans today?" Dee asked.

"I'm not much of a planner. I just like to let things happen organically."

Dee called him out on his bullshit. "So basically you're gonna sit in front of the tv eating junk food alone all day?"

"That about sums it up."

"Well, I wouldn't wanna pull you away from your busy life, but I've got MarioKart 64 if you wanna hang out at my place until Ricardo gets off work."

"Oh, hell yeah! The last time I played that was...forever ago when I was babysitting for my aunt. I've always meant to buy one for home, you know, back when I was working and had the money to do so, but things always came up. The Nintendo 64 is the best gaming console to ever be created."

"Mm, I've always liked the PS2 best."

"That one's great, too," Drake agreed.

For the next ten minutes or so, they casually chatted about video games: ones they loved, ones they hated, ones that were too scary to play alone, etcetera. They went on like this until they passed by a theatre with a sign out front.

"Holy shit!" Dee said suddenly.

Drake's heart jumped with anxiety, but he calmed himself when the man gave an explanation for his outburst.

"They're auditioning for Rent!"

"You like Rent?" He and Dee had a lot more in common than he'd first thought.

"I fucking love Rent!" he exclaimed as he took the next turn and started looking for a free space that he could parallel park in.

"What are you doing?"

"We're gonna go audition," he said as if it was obvious.

"We? No, no, I'm not-"

"Ricardo told me you were lead vocals in a band, so come on. It's gonna be so much fun."

As the car came to a halt next to the sidewalk and Dee unbuckled his seat belt, Drake realized that he was serious. "You're really auditioning for this?"

"We're auditioning."

"No, but I can't-"

"Come on," he said with a wide grin as he got out of the car.

Drake was dumbfounded. He absently got out of the car and they walked around to the front of the building. Dee pushed open the door and they could see a stage in the distance. A rather attractive young girl was singing Out Tonight, which brought a big smile onto the older boy's face.

"Dee, I can't do this," Drake whispered. He was still traumatized after the last fiasco that happened during his recent performance at Flux.

Despite his protests, Drake followed Dee down the aisle and over to a table. He was told to sign his name on a clipboard. As Dee did this, the woman asked, "Are you both auditioning?"

"No-"

Before Drake could even finish, Dee said, "Yeah, both of us."

The woman handed over two stacks with papers stapled together. Each booklet had a small portion of the original script for them to read over and study until it was time for their audition. Dee took them both because he knew that Drake wouldn't accept one voluntarily.

"No, Dee, I'm serious. I-"

"It'll be fun, though," he said as he guided him to some chairs away from other people who were waiting for their turn to show off their talent.

"I really can't. Last time I was on stage..."

Dee didn't know about his drug addiction and he didn't want to tell people if he didn't have to. Sure he knew that either himself or Ricardo would clue him in one day, but that day wasn't today. Dee and Ricky hadn't even been dating a full two weeks yet.

"Well, it was just really bad. Like...really bad."

"Then this is your chance to redeem yourself. Couldn't you go for some spontaneity to spice up your life?"

"I think I've had enough spontaneity for one lifetime."

Obviously, Dee didn't understand this. "Look, just try out for a smaller part. You don't have to be the center of attention that way. Then you can just go home and decide whether you actually wanna do it or not. If they do call and say you got the part and you really don't wanna do it, just tell them no. They have plenty of others to choose from. Or maybe you won't even get the part and you won't have to worry about any of that anyway. Honestly, what's the harm in that?"

Drake sighed. "Fine. Alright. Fuck."

Dee was happy about this and it showed on his face. "This is gonna be so much fun!"

---

"Honestly, I've never played this with anyone who can come close to beating me, but you actually gave me a challenge," Dee complimented as he set down his Nintendo controller. "Better luck next time."

"Better luck next time? We tied."

"And when you tie, they give first place to player one."

"That's such bullshit."

"Anyway, you cheated, so I should've won by a landslide."

"I didn't cheat," Drake argued.

"Then what do you call jumping over the wall in Wario Stadium?"

"I call that 'eat my fucking dust, loser.'"

"And jumping over the gate on Rainbow Road to land on the road down below?"

"It's strategy," Drake defended.

"It's cheating."

"Whatever."

"Cheaterrr," Dee taunted.

Drake rolled his eyes and stood. "Can I get a drink?"

"Yeah, of course," said Dee. "How did you learn to play like that anyway? You're really good for someone who hasn't played in a few years."

Drake opened the refrigerator and saw a bunch of fruits and vegetables. His beverage options were almond milk, water, some strange-colored juice concoction and diet green tea with citrus. He chose the tea. "My step-brother is obsessed with video games." Is? Was? Did he still play? Thinking about Josh and how little he knew about him now depressed him. "We used to play all the time. Since he spent half his life playing it, I had to learn how to beat him."

"I didn't know you had a step-brother."

Drake wanted to change the subject, but he didn't want to be incredibly obvious about it. "Where are the glasses?"

"Oh." Dee hopped up, made his way into the kitchen, then opened one of the cabinets. "Right here."

"Thanks."

"So what's your step-brother's name?"

"Josh."

"Is he older or younger?"

"Younger, but not by much. We're both twenty-one."

"What does he do?"

Drake tilted the cup over his lips and took a sip to avoid answering. "Hmm?" After Dee repeated the question, Drake swallowed down the tea that was in his mouth. "He, uh... You know, I'm actually not sure what he does."

"You don't know where your step-brother works?"

"We're...not really close."

"Oh. What about the rest of your family?"

"We don't... We don't really talk anymore." Think of something! Find something else to talk about!

"Wow, really? Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay. It's just..." Drake didn't know what to say. His family was good people and he didn't want Dee to think otherwise because of his cryptic answers. "I just made a lot of mistakes, so..." he tried to explain, taking all the blame (which he did with sincerity).

"When's the last time you spoke to them?" Dee asked, his voice soft and kind.

"Um, I don't know. Maybe...a few years." He kept it vague.

"Shit."

"Yeah." There was a pause, then, "But they're all amazing. It was just me and my shit."

"Really? You seem like such a chill guy."

"Well, good, 'cause that's what I'm going for." Drake said. He motioned towards a painting that was hanging on the wall behind Dee. "That's really cool." A+ for subtlety. Not.

"Oh, yeah, I painted it about a year ago."

"You painted that?"

"Yeah. You like it?"

"So you can paint, you can sing, you can act, you work out, you're athletic, you eat healthy, you love animals, you're good at video games, you're nice and you look like a Greek god. Jesus, do you spend your spare time volunteering for charity?"

Dee shrugged with a small smirk. "I dabble."

"You know, you're annoyingly perfect. You and Ricardo deserve each other."

An even bigger smile spread over Dee's lips with this. "That was the most backhanded compliment I've ever received, but...thanks?"

Well, the subject was finally changed. Mission accomplished. "Hey, so what other Nintendo games do you have?"

"You like Tony Hawk Pro Skater?"

---

"That's so fucking awesome!" Ricardo turned towards the back seat and gave Drake a smile after hearing about their spontaneous play auditions. "I'm so proud of you!" He then slipped his hand inside of Dee's free one, pulled it up to his mouth and kissed it. "Both of you."

The car slowed to a halt at a stop sign. Dee leaned in and gave his boyfriend a quick peck on the lips before pressing on the gas again.

"And Drake was great," Dee said. "For someone who's never acted a day in his life — I mean, I was fucking impressed."

On the contrary, Drake had pretended to be a different person from the ages of thirteen to eighteen. For five years, he hid his true self and played a different character. Also, like Dee had suggested, he'd auditioned for a small role. Although that role plays multiple different people and was still on stage a good bit, he would be in the background as one of the homeless people and later as one of the junkies. He had real-life experience as both, which is probably why he had done so well at them. He couldn't say this out loud in front of Dee, though.

"Who did you audition for?" Ricardo asked Dee.

"Collins, Benny and as a minor character."

"I watched Rent with Drake close to a year ago. Help me out here. Collins is..."

"The teacher dating Angel. Mark and Roger's friend."

"That's right. And Benny's the guy trying to kick them all out." When Dee nodded his confirmation, Ricky turned to Drake again. "Who did you try out for?"

"Just a minor character."

"They play multiple different people throughout the play," Dee added.

Drake hoped that Dee didn't go into specifics because he could already see the look Ricardo would give him upon hearing that Drake would have to play an addict. There was no use getting him all riled up about it because he didn't expect to get cast in the play. And if he did? Dee made him do it anyway.

"It's this one with the black car," he said and Dee turned into the driveway.

"You coming back home tonight?" Ricardo asked.

"I don't know. I might stay here."

"You know you got that appointment tomorrow, remember?"

"Yeah."

"Text me later and let me know so I know if I need to leave earlier to swing by and pick you up."

"Okay," Drake said. He got out of the back seat, then started up the driveway. As he passed the driver's side window, he thanked Dee for dropping him off. He had texted Dahlia to let her know that he was here, so she met him at the door as he climbed up the steps. He greeted her with a kiss.

"Hey, babe." She gave him a smile, then led him inside. After closing the door, she connected their lips again.

Drake couldn't begin to describe how great it felt to be with her again. He was head-over-heels in love with this girl. He had royally fucked up before and, by some miracle, she had taken his sorry ass back. He never wanted to hurt her like that again. He didn't deserve a girlfriend who was so forgiving. "I missed you," he said in between kisses.

When their lips finally separated, they stood there embracing each other. Even Drake's eyes sparkled when he looked at her. He wore a big smile.

"God, I love you so much."

She smiled back, hugged even tighter, then tilted her head up and gave him another quick peck on the lips. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

"Sam and Brett went out to pick up a couple pizzas. They just left not long after you pulled up." She was now giving him hungry eyes. "Which means we have some alone time..."

Already, blood was rushing to his penis.

"Whoa, down, boy. You said you were starving, so me first." As she said this, she pressed her body against him.

Their lips connected again and Drake lifted Clem up while her legs wrapped around him. They ended up in the bedroom and Drake set her down on the foot of the bed. He pulled off her shirt and tossed it to the side. When she laid back, he leaned over her and kissed her some more. She unbuttoned his plaid shirt, then pushed it back. He wiggled his arms to help her get the sleeves off without having to pull his lips away. She rubbed her hands up his chest, then back down so that she could undo his jeans. She pushed them and his underwear down his legs and he kicked them away, then he helped her remove hers. He wrapped an arm around her back, for he was about to scoot her up onto the bed more so that he could climb on top of her, but she pushed him onto his knees. Like a peasant serving his queen, he bowed down over her spread legs and did what she wanted. She rested her bent knees on the boy's shoulders, laid back and relaxed.

He was down there skillfully working on her for quite some time. The loud, pornstar-type moaning that left her lips got him rock hard. He had to physically force his hand to keep from finishing himself off and, a couple times, his hips bucked uncontrollably. By the sounds leaving her, he could tell that she was orgasming. He kept at it until she squirted.

She scooted herself back and smiled seductively at him. He climbed on top of her and wasted no time as he thrust into her. He let out a moan with the first one. He felt pleasure all over his body. His heart was beating fast and he was coated with sweat. He shivered as her fingernails grazed up and down his skin from his back to his arms to his side to his ass. She whispered encouragement with dirty and vulgar words. This led to another moan as Drake repositioned himself a bit, putting a hand up on the headboard to support himself so that he could move his hips with much more freedom.

Somehow, miraculously, Drake's mind was able to separate from the feelings of pleasure and he remembered something rather important. "Shit, I forgot to put on a condom." He pulled out, but Clementine stopped him from getting up.

"I'm on the pill, remember?"

That was enough for Drake. He pushed back inside of her and continued his rhythm as if he'd never missed a beat.

"I want your cum inside me."

Drake thrust more forcefully and his hips moved faster and faster like a jackrabbit. He could feel his climax starting. A moan erupted from him as sweat poured off of his face. His inhales and exhales grew louder. On his next exhale, he let go of another moan.

"Come on. Harder. I want your cock so far in me I can't walk afterwards. Harder!"

Another moan. "I'm gonna cum," he warned. Moments later, he blew his load inside of her as a couple more moans left him. His hips continued to buck a couple times after it was over. He rested there for a moment, catching his breath and relishing in the amazing feeling. He rolled over and laid on his back next to her with a thud, still breathing heavily. Moments later, he felt her grip his hand. He turned his head towards her and just looking at her made him smile. He gently rubbed his thumb against her skin, then pulled her hand up to his mouth to give it a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She snuggled up next to him and rested her head on his arm. Despite how sweaty and hot he was, he didn't mind.

"You're much louder during a shag than you used to be," she said.

He'd always made sure whatever girl he was with could tell that he was enjoying it as well, but he, too, noticed that he hadn't been holding anything back recently. On the streets, he would always exaggerate and overcompensate because 1). it got the guys to ejaculate faster, 2). it left them with a large ego and some were willing to pay more the next time he approached them, 3). some thought they were actually good at fucking when they weren't and would choose Drake over the competition because of his enthusiasm, and 4). more than half the time, he was faking but had to give them their money's worth.

"Is it a turn-off?" Drake asked.

"No, I like it. It's hot," she assured. "It's just weird, I guess. We get back together and...the sex is still amazing — don't get me wrong. It's just...different. Like the other day, you let me choke you. You never let me do that before."

Clem was into a lot of the more milder BDSM kinks and Drake enjoyed most, but choking was one that he had refused to let her do since they'd started going together. His mind was so quick to travel to other places during it. He could easily forget where he was and who he was with and think that he was back at his father's while Martin forced Drake to masturbate and wouldn't stop strangling him until he could get himself off. He'd quickly had to get over this on the streets. As it turned out, a lot of men were into that, possibly because their wives wouldn't allow them to fulfill their fantasies of torture, rape and full power and control at home. Drake did. He'd had to.

Clementine continued. "It just makes me wonder what kinds of things you were doing out there."

Drake looked at her and felt so guilty about every single blowjob, every single fuck, every single threesome, that one foursome, and every single guy he even touched in a sensual manner. "I'll never stop hating myself for all the pain I put you through. You deserve...so much better. I'm a piece of shit and I'm just so grateful that you let my pathetic ass back into your life. I don't deserve you." He wanted to cry, but he didn't want her to feel bad about expressing her feelings because she had every right to after what he'd done. His voice was soft and genuine as he forced himself to be courageous enough to meet her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

She could see that they were glazed over with tears although he hoped that she couldn't tell. She didn't feel the least bit bad. Instead, she was elated because she knew right then that she had complete control over him again. He was wrapped around her finger and his guilt tied the knot that kept him there.

"Come on," she said, sitting up as if she had already forgotten about their conversation. "Let's go shower."

She felt great now. She felt on top of the world. Drake, on the other hand, was filled with sadness and self-hatred and he would obsess over this conversation for a long time. The only thing that could make him feel better was doing everything he could to make Clem happy. He would do anything for her. She had him right where she wanted him.

---

Drake slipped on his shirt as Dahlia brushed through her wet hair.

"I'll be out there in a minute," she said.

The young man grabbed their pile of dirty clothes and left the bathroom with them, then made a right for the laundry room down the hall towards his girlfriend's bedroom.

"Drake!" Sam covered her mouth as she quickly finished chewing and then swallowing down her bite of pizza. Her eyes were wide. "Oh my God! What the fuck?! Hey!" She put her half-eaten slice down on the kitchen table and rushed over to him, pulling him into a hug.

Brett was right behind her. "How are you, bro? It's been months." When Sam pulled away from Drake, he took her spot, patting the boy's back as he embraced him. He pulled away with a smile. "It's good to see you again."

Drake forced a shy smile. "Yeah. Lemme put this up really quick." He tossed the clothes into the laundry room hamper and then followed them to the kitchen table.

"What's been up? When did you get back?" Sam asked as if he had gone on some sort of trip or vacation.

"You look good," Brett noticed, taking this as a sign that Drake was, once again, clean.

"Thanks. Yeah, I've been over a couple times this week, but you guys were either asleep or not here."

"Dahlia told us we kept just missing you. I was starting to think she was lying about you two getting back together," Sam said, still shocked that he was sitting right in front of her. "So what's new? I mean, how are you?"

"I'm okay. You know, things were really...just rough, I guess," the boy said shamefully with his head low. "I did get your messages. They were really nice and I appreciated them. I'm sorry I didn't respond. It was such a dick thing to do. I know you guys were worried about me and I apologize for putting you through that."

"It's okay." Brett rubbed his bicep supportively. "How are you doing now?"

"Better. I've just been working on starting over and it's been a lot. I'll be three weeks clean tomorrow."

"Hey, that's great!" Brett said.

"If there's anything we can do to help, just let us know," Samantha said. "Brat and I love you and we'd do anything for you." Her boyfriend nodded his agreement.

"Thanks." He felt relieved that he was getting so much support from them, but at the same time, it was making him feel extremely guilty. Finally, he met their eyes. "I'm just really sorry. I don't know. I really suck sometimes."

"We all suck sometimes," Brett said. "I'm just glad you came back."

"I didn't have much of a choice. It was starting to get really bad out there. I probably would've overdosed and died had I not gone home when I did."

When Clem had come over with bruises that day, Drake had told her everything. Because of who Clementine was, this also meant that Sam and Brett knew everything, too. He didn't mind it too much. He didn't think he would've ever had the guts to tell them himself about all of the shameful things he had done on the streets. As his mind replayed in graphic detail some of the more embarrassing things, he started crying.

Sammie and Brat spoke at the same time.

Sam: Oh, Drake...

Brett: Don't cry.

The girl moved her chair closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, allowing Drake to weep on her should while Brett rubbed circles on his back.

Drake's voice cracked. "I'm sorry," he apologized for inconveniencing them with his emotional bullshit.

"No, don't be," Brett said.

His voice was muffled as he hid his face in the crook of Sam's neck. "I'm so ashamed."

"You don't have to feel that way around us, babe," Sam comforted. "You're the same old Drake to us. We don't see you any differently and we don't think any less of you."

Just then, Sammie's dog barked in that annoying, high-pitched bark that little dogs have, then he jumped into Drake's lap.

"See, even Coco missed you," Brett said.

Drake chuckled through his drying tears as he pulled away from Sam and combed his fingers through the dog's fur. "I missed you, too." He used his free hand to wipe away the rest of the wetness around his eyes, took a breath, then shakily let it go. "Sorry. I don't know where all that came from."

"It's okay." Sam stood and kissed the top of his head like a mother would do. "You want some pizza? Let me grab you a plate. You want something to drink?"

"It's okay. I'll get it."

Samantha refused to allow him to serve himself, so he gave in and told her what he wanted to drink. She grabbed a can of Vanilla Coke (he knew Sam always made sure to keep these in stock) and a plate and passed them to Drake before taking her seat again.

"Thank you," he said.

"No problem."

Drake picked up his slice, but before taking a bite, he asked, "So enough of my bullshit. What's new with you two?"

"I don't think anything is really going on with us," Brett said. "Just the same old things."

Drake would give anything to live a normal, boring life like they did. (He meant this in the best way possible).

Sam nodded her agreement, but then remembered, "Oh, Brat got a promotion at work last month!"

Drake wasn't sure exactly what it was that Brett did. It had something to do with installing electricity in newly built houses or something, if he remembered correctly. Not what you would expect from him based on his looks. He looked more like a football player or lifeguard or personal trainer.

"That's awesome!" Drake congratulated. "Did it come with a pay raise?"

"Yup, and better hours. Now I have weekends off."

"Nice."

"What about you? Have you gotten back out into the working field?" Samantha asked.

"Not yet. Ricky wanted me to take things slowly and not pile so much on all at once."

"Good idea," Brett said. "Is he open to letting you come back and work for him when you're ready to work?"

"Yeah, I just don't know if I wanna do that. I totally fucked him over by leaving like I did and I don't want him to feel like he has to hire me back because we're best friends."

"I don't think that's it at all. I think he thinks you're great at what you do, the customers love you and you have a big support group there that has gone through similar things as you. Plus, if one of your infamous mood swings or cravings occur, he'll know. Honestly, if you liked that job, I think going back would be a great idea."

"Whatever you do, just stay out of fast-food," Sam said.

"Oh, a hundred percent," Brett agreed.

"Duly noted," said Drake.

Around this time, Dahlia came out of the bathroom and joined them in the kitchen. She grabbed a drink and plate and sat down next to Drake, who took her hand underneath the table. "What's everyone talking about?"

"Work," said Sam.

Since Clem didn't have a job because she got what she wanted from her parents, Drake asked her, "How is school going?"

She rolled her eyes and groaned. "I'm just ready for graduation," she said. "I don't even wanna think about school. I have two big projects coming up on top of the normal homework, studying and rubbish."

"I can help," Drake offered. He helped Julio all the time.

She laughed. "Yeah, if I wanted to flunk out of the class."

His feelings were hurt, but this was the kind of abuse he didn't know he needed — just a little sliver of what he was missing since his father's passing. He noticed Sam and Brett were stunned by Clem's rude put-down, but just like he did for his dad, he covered for her. "Well, I could definitely get you a solid D+."

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass, thanks."

---

Drake set down the PS4 controller and stretched. "Guys, I think it's time for me to go to bed."

"I didn't even realize it was so late," Brett said. "I've got work in the morning."

"Looks like we're gonna turn in, too," Sam said.

Drake stood and stretched again. They had been sitting in the living room playing Resident Evil: Biohazard, continuing where they had left off many months ago. It was getting close to one in the morning and Drake's back was aching.

"Night." He made his way to his girlfriend's bedroom and found her at her desk, her eyes skimming through pages of a textbook. He approached her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, then kissed the top of her head. "How's it coming along?"

"Did I mention I hate school?"

Drake brushed his fingers through her hair, then rubbed her scalp as he looked over her shoulder at what she was reading. She had been right. This was probably something that he would've been incapable of helping her with. Becoming a doctor was no easy feat. He moved his hands to her shoulders and massaged them.

"Mmm, that feels good," she moaned. After a few moments, she came to her senses and pushed his hands away. "I gotta finish this."

He wrapped his arms around her torso again and buried his head in her neck.

"Stop," she tried as he sucked on her skin. "Drake, come on. I've gotta work," she said through her giggles.

One of his hands moved down her stomach and slipped into the waistband of her miniskirt. His other went upwards: over her breast, past her collarbone, up to her scalp. He roughly pulled her hair (which she often enjoyed) so that he could get to her neck better.

She let go of her breath and closed her eyes as she felt a tingling between her thighs. This went on for another twenty seconds or so before she was strong enough to resist. "Okay, seriously. I have to read these chapters." She pushed his hands away again.

Drake pulled back with a sigh. "How long until you're done?"

"I would at least like to get through this chapter tonight."

"So it's not a requirement?"

"I'm serious."

"Okay, okay." Drake went over to his designated drawer, grabbed some pajama pants, then left the room. Once in the bathroom, he relieved himself, washed his hands, brushed his teeth and changed pants. He went into the laundry room then and started a load of his and Clem's clothes to make sure he had something to wear for his appointment in the morning. After this, he went back into the girl's room. "I started the laundry."

"Thanks," she said absently.

He looked over her shoulder and checked the page number, noticing that she had read five pages while he was gone. "Read to me," he said.

She started reading out loud. He picked up her hair brush and gently combed through her beautiful blonde hair as he stood behind her. She didn't have a problem with this. She loved when he played with her hair. Several minutes of this went by until she announced rather excitedly that she only had two pages left. Drake decided to braid her hair. He reached over to set the brush down, but accidentally knocked over a cup full of pens, pencils, highlighters, erasers, paperclips, etcetera.

"Drake!"

"Sorry. I'll get it. Don't mind me."

He got what little landed on the desk, then got on his knees and picked everything up off the floor. The items didn't get too far except for a bright green pencil eraser. It was under her desk by the computer wires. He scooted under there carefully and picked it up. While he was down there, he just so happened to noticed that Clementine wasn't wearing any underwear.

"...in the mind, as with in the human body, that all parts work — Drake!"

"Keep going," she heard him say as he spread her legs further apart.

She was close to the end of her chapter anyway, so she didn't mind him getting her going early. She continued reading out loud as his tongue touched her skin. She was fine for a while, but he was really going at it, so while she went through the last page, her reading was affected. She would get some words out, then they'd be broken up by a moan or heavy breathing or an "Oh, God..."

When she finally got through her reading, she closed her book. The two made their way over to the bed, stripped down, then went at it again with her on top this time.

---

Clementine woke up to an empty bed. She realized this when she reached her arm over and found that Drake's body was missing. She looked around her room and found him at the dresser. He was fresh out of the shower and pulling up a pair of faded black skinny jeans.

"You're leaving?"

"Not right now."

"You have plans or something?"

He noticed a hint of irritation in her voice and looked over at her as he zipped up his pants. "I have an appointment," he said vaguely.

"An appointment? For what?"

He grabbed his Rolling Stones tee and slipped it over his head. After a hesitation, he averted his eyes and quietly said, "A psychiatrist."

"What? A psychiatrist? For what?" She sat up with the comforter wrapped around her, hiding her nude body.

"So I can stop crying and being so sad all the time."

"Am I not enough for you?"

Drake was taken aback by this. "No, of course you are."

"Then why do you need to put shit in your body to make you feel okay?"

"Ricky and Julio think it's a good idea for me to get something that'll keep me from acting so crazy and impulsive." He sat down on the bed with his back to her.

"Oh, I see what this is now."

"What?"

"Nothing. I shouldn't say."

He was baited. "Tell me."

"Ricardo and Julio want you to go and get drugged up so you'll stop bothering them with your problems. It sounds to me like they're tired of you."

"They're not like that, though," Drake disagreed.

"Well, we'll see."

Her quickness to drop the subject left him questioning himself. "You really think that's how they feel?"

"I could be wrong," Clementine said innocently as if this wasn't all one big plot to further keep him under her control. "I mean, what do I know, right? You've known them way longer than I have."

Whether he believed her or not, she had planted a seed and she could see that it was already sprouting.

"Can I just be honest about something?"

"Of course," he said.

"Like, you know I love you, but have you researched what taking medications like this will do to your mind and body? You're gonna become a completely different person."

"But maybe I won't be as suicidal and impulsive."

"If it takes the edge off the sad stuff, don't you think it'll 'take the edge off' the happy stuff, too? Everything will just be mediocre to you and then it'll get really depressing," she said. If she lost to a shrink, there would be three other people/things in Drake's life that would have a higher amount of control over him than her: Ricardo, Julio and the medications.

"I feel like it might be worth it if it keeps me from wanting to die all the time," he said. "You know how fast my brain can convince me of a bunch of shit, which leads to drug cravings, which lead to relapse, which leads to living on the streets and whoring myself out. I'm kinda desperate," he admitted. "I don't wanna lose control again."

"Do you really think it's the best idea to tell some stranger all about your problems and rehash the past?"

"Well, I don't think they talk to you for that long. They're different than counselors. That's what Julio said. He's been to one."

"They prescribed him medicine?"

"Yeah."

"And did they work for him?"

"Well, he never took them," the boy said.

"Why not?"

"He said he didn't want them to turn him into a zombie."

She looked at him as if her point was proven and it kind of was. The guy who aided in convincing Drake to get medicated for depression and anxiety refused to take the medication he himself had been prescribed for depression and anxiety because he didn't want the pills to change him. They really were tired of Drake's baggage.

"Look, babe, it's not just that." Dahlia wrapped her arms around Drake's torso and rested her head on his back. She could hear his heart beating inside of him. "I just feel like...like I'm always in second place with you. Either you put drugs before me or Ricardo before me, and if you go through with this, you're putting yourself before me. I feel like I'm just an afterthought to you."

"But you're not!" Drake turned towards her and took her hands. "You literally mean the world to me!" He felt guilty for not showing her enough how truly important she was to him.

"If you start taking antidepressants, you're gonna turn into a drugged-up zombie. You'll be a completely different person. You're not gonna be the Drake I know — the Drake I fell in love with."

Drake looked absolutely crushed as she pulled her hands away and started slipping on some clothes, covering herself with the bare minimum. "What are you saying?"

She picked up the rest of her clothes so that she could drop them off in the laundry room before taking a shower. "All I'm saying is that you can't expect me to stay with an emotionless freak I've never met before."

---

"What I'm trying to say is that, lately, you know, we basically just spend our nights inside and have sex. And it's great," Dee assured. "I just think we're moving a little fast."

Ricardo looked up from the mail he had been sifting through. "Like, you mean you wanna see other people?"

"No! God, no. I'm just saying that we haven't really gone out much. Like on an actual date. I'm a man of class. I like to be wined and dined before jumping into bed with someone."

Ricky smirked as he made his way over to him. "Okay, so what did you have in mind?" He wrapped his arms around Dee's lower back.

"I was thinking we could catch a movie later. You know, we'll get some popcorn, and instead of actually watching the movie, we'll both be overthinking how we're gonna make a move. And you'll do that fake yawn and stretch thing and end up with your arm draped over my shoulder, then I'll reach for some popcorn at the same time as you and 'accidentally' grab your hand."

A laugh erupted from Ricardo. "If that's what you want, I can do that."

"So it's a date then?"

"It's a date." He pressed his lips against his boyfriend's.

Around this time, Julio came down the stairs. "Good morning, lovebirds." He went straight for the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He twisted off the top and gulped some down as he leaned against the counter and turned back to the two, who were still connected. "I'm officially the only one in this house not getting laid," he noticed.

Dee and Ricardo separated and laughed at this.

"Don't sell yourself short," Ricky said. "You and your right hand make a great couple."

Again, Dee laughed as he poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"I'm left-handed, jackass."

"Seriously?"

"Are you serious? I've only been your brother for twenty-one years."

"I know you're left-handed, Julio. I was kidding."

Julio squinted his eyes skeptically. "I feel like you weren't, though."

"Who do you think bought that left-handed bass of yours?" To change the subject, the man asked, "Anyway, isn't it a little early to start drinking?"

"There's no school today, so I'm getting drunk and playing video games all day."

Just then Ricardo's phone started to ring.

"It's Drake." Dee tossed it to him.

"Hey, I was just on my way to come get you." Pause. "What? Drake, what the fuck?" Another pause. "This is important, though."

The playful atmosphere in the Santos kitchen subsided. Neither knew what was going on on the other end of the conversation, but Ricardo sounded pissed.

"Where is this coming from? What did she say to you?" Pause. "I know she did. Let me talk to her... Because this is bullshit... Drake, you've been looking forward to this for three weeks. You know how long it takes to schedule an appointment with these people... I don't give a shit, Drake! Drake? ... Drake?" Ricardo looked at his phone screen and saw that the boy had hung up. In a rage, he angrily tossed his phone onto the countertop. "That toxic fucking bitch!"

"He changed his mind about going?" Julio asked.

"He didn't. She did! I know she got into his head. She always does shit like this." He was fuming. "Ella es una sociópata manipuladora!"

Both of the other guys were silent. It was always best to let Ricardo have a few moments of silence to cool down and collect his thoughts. Dee didn't know this because he hadn't yet witnessed this side of his new boyfriend, but he followed Julio's lead. Julio knew much more about the situation as a whole anyway, so if he was keeping his mouth shut, then Dee knew that chiming in, despite wanting to help, would only make matters worse.

"Hijo de puta. Fuck it. I'm going over there."

"Need backup?" Julio asked.

"No, I'll probably calm down during the drive."

Julio doubted this. After a moment, he said, "Yeah, I'm just gonna go get my shoes."

When he left the kitchen, Dee finally approached his boyfriend. He still remained silent, but he rubbed his back supportively.

"I'm sorry. I blew up."

"It's okay," Dee said. "Is he okay?"

"Other than the fact that he's got literally the worst girlfriend in the world who treats him like shit and manipulates him out of doing something that he really needs?"

"Honestly, I thought she was really bitchy, too, when I first met her, but I didn't say anything because you acted like you two were friends."

This actually made Ricardo chuckle. "I just do that to keep the peace. Drake knows how I feel about her. She doesn't have to know."

"See, that's where we're different. I know I'm usually this nice, quiet, friendly guy, but the second someone pisses me off, I'll snap on a bitch."

Again, Ricky let go of a small laugh. "If only I was even half as gutsy as you."

"If you stick with me, it'll rub off on you, I'm sure."

Ricardo let Dee pull him into a comforting embrace. Still, he was obsessing over the recent phone call. "I just don't understand. What could she possibly have said to make him change his mind? Three weeks, he's been looking forward to this. How on earth does she do it? And so fucking quickly! Hell, it took me three years to get him to finally agree to go." He knew he was getting worked up again and took a breath, then exhaled, but more thoughts came to him. "And how does he not see through her? How does he not see that she's using him? She doesn't love him. I wouldn't even be surprised if she didn't even like him. Or, hey, maybe he does know and still wants to be with her because..." He didn't want to spill all of Drake's secrets because he knew that it wasn't his place. "...because he's just been through so much shit. It just doesn't make sense. Anytime someone is nice to him, he gets nervous and questions their motives. You know how many times I've had to reassure him — literally out of nowhere — that we were still friends? You know how many times she's had to do that? None. Not even once. I just don't understand. I've done everything for him and it still feels like, even after living together for so long, he doesn't trust that I do these things out of a place of love and not pity or guilt. It's fucking frustrating."

Dee continued to listen while he vented.

"I mean, I take that back. I do get why he's like that. Like, I've gone through some pretty fucked up shit in my past, but his shit is on a whole new level. And it never ends. It's like one day, everything is going just fine and then something happens, then something else happens, then something else happens. Life just knocks him down over and over and over again, and honestly, I'm surprised he's still able to get back up. I know I definitely couldn't have done it," Ricardo admitted. "And no matter how many times you try to tell him how strong he is for it, he just doesn't see it. It never clicks with him." He was starting to wonder if anything he had just said made any sense since he was being so vague about everything. "Anyway, I just went on a whole tangent. Basically, my point is, I just wish he would get the fucking help he needs. It took so long for him to get to the point where he was willing to accept it and I was so excited for it. I feel like I got my hopes up and someone just pulled the rug out from under me."

"Maybe talking to him face-to-face will help him see things your way," Dee said.

"I guess we'll see."

---

Clementine leaned closer to the mirror as she applied her bright red lipstick with a steady hand. Her face expressed her inner feelings of confidence, satisfaction and power. She hadn't stayed to watch Drake make his decision, but she knew exactly what her boyfriend would do with the ultimatum she had not-so-subtly given him. Today was a good day and a good day calls for celebration.

She gave her make-up a once over, then left the bathroom and made her way back to her bedroom with the air of a spoiled princess. Once inside, she found Drake weeping. "What's wrong?" She audaciously feigned confusion and compassion.

Drake's voice cracked when he said, "I told Ricky I wasn't going to the psychiatrist and now he hates me."

She gave him a pout, then made her way over to him. "I hate that you're upset, but I'm glad you're finally opening your eyes and seeing what kind of person he really is."

"He yelled at me. He never yells at me." It was so easy for his brain to send him back to his dad's when people, men especially, raised their voices at him. This brought back all those familiar feelings of being an annoying botherer, being a life-ruiner and being loathed.

"Well, you know what? Fuck him. Who needs him?" Dahlia said as she went over to her dresser and grabbed a sparkly necklace off of her jewelry stand. "You know, I've been meaning to bring this up, but I knew he had such a tight grip on you that I didn't think it would go over well." She turned back to him with a smile, showing off just how hot she looked despite the fact that he was sitting there wanting to die. "I think you should move in here," she said.

"What?"

She sat down next to him and snuggled against him, pulling his arm across her shoulders. "Just think about it. We'll always be together. We'll wake up next to each other every morning, maybe mess around a little," she teased, "and we'll shower and eat breakfast together. Doesn't that all sound romantic? It'll be like we're married. Don't you want that?"

He looked at her. "You're serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. Don't you love me?"

"Of course I love you. More than anything."

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's...it's just sudden...is all."

Dahlia's demeanor changed to anger and she stood. "You know what? Forget it."

"Clem-"

"Just do what you wanna do."

The door opened before she reached it and Sam stepped inside. "Ricardo's here." Then she whispered, "He looks pissed."

Fear flashed across Drake's eyes and his heart started pounding against his chest. "Fuck," he said quietly.

"Just fucking go," Clementine said. "Honestly, I don't even give a shit anymore."

"Clem-"

But she was gone.

Sam noticed her stomp into the other bedroom. "I guess we'll be in my room. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah."

After she left, he gave himself a few moments of solitude before taking a breath and meeting his guest in the living room. Ricardo wasn't alone; he was joined by his brother. It was already apparent to everyone involved that this was going to be bad. The room felt like a volcano on the verge of erupting and, after everything was over, the aftermath felt just as catastrophic. It put a huge riff in their friendship and left more scars on all of them than anticipated.

---

Despite the fact that the argument had lasted for a good thirty minutes or so, Drake had managed to keep his tears back. However, now that Julio and Ricardo had left, he was a fucking mess. They were back in Dahlia's room. She was in front of the mirror, wiping off the make-up her tears had smeared and preparing to reapply because she was still going out to celebrate, especially now just to spite the Santos brothers. Drake hadn't made it as far as the door before he slid his back down the wood and rested on his bottom. Unlike his girlfriend, he was still full-on sobbing and it wasn't just because of the things his roommates — ex roommates — had said. He, too, had spewed a lot of fucked up shit that he knew would cut deep, but this was only after Clementine had joined the fight by attacking Ricardo, who retaliated with insults that got her crying, which had enraged Drake.

This entire thing had been bound to end badly. Ricardo had come in hot and, before either one knew what was happening, both were yelling. Julio tried to tame it, but gave up to aggressively defend himself when Drake accused him of being a hypocrite for not taking the meds that he was practically forcing on Drake. This went on for a while. The second Drake had dropped the bomb that he was moving out, this caused a whole other wave of arguments. Clementine had heard her boyfriend accept her invitation and left Sam's room to side with him because two against one was unfair. This is when the insults started. They were all attacking each others' characters and motives. A lot of things were said that both parties (with the exception of Dahlia) went on to regret. There were threats to get the police involved on her end. Soon after, the Santos brothers were forced to retreat.

"I hope you know your friends are pieces of shit," Dahlia said, then, "Actually, they're not your friends anymore. I don't want you talking to them ever again. Got it?" She knew she had this ability because it had worked when she'd forced him to drop Kenzly.

Drake couldn't respond even if he'd wanted to. He could hardly catch his breath through his bawling. His entire body was trembling. It took Dahlia a couple seconds to determine that this was from fear rather than anger. She could hear the beginning of loud, frantic breathing. It wasn't long at all until he was hyperventilating.

"God, the fucking audacity they had!" Clem exclaimed. "You tell them no one time and they go fucking ballistic! I've tried telling you a thousand times and you never listen to me. I told you something like this was bound to happen. They're fucking childish!"

Drake closed his eyes and his face expressed pain. "I can't...breathe..." he quietly managed in between his gasps for air. He wasn't sure if she just didn't hear him or chose to ignore him because his words didn't incite a reaction.

"And what the fuck were you doing out there?" she continued to rant. "Your puny little remarks were a joke. They were bullying me and saying I was all of this horrible rubbish and you just stood there and let them do it when you should've knocked them on their fucking asses like a good boyfriend would've done for his queen. Carter would've done it. It's kind of pathetic to be honest, Drake."

"...I...c...can...can't..." Drake clawed at his throat, even ripping the collar of his shirt so that he would have more space to breathe. The room was getting smaller and smaller by the second.

"And they brought up a ton of shit from the past, too. I can't believe you told them even half of that shit. What do you do when I'm not around, huh? You guys sit around playing soggy biscuit and talking rubbish about me? You fucking tell them I hit you? Did you ever tell them what you did or said to me prior that led up to it? I bet not. I wasn't the bad guy in those scenarios and I can't believe you would betray me like that."

Drake was loyal. He never once told anyone when she hit him. However, when he went home with bruises or scratches or bright red handprints or a busted lip or bleeding nose, it was obvious, even on those occasions when he'd first tried covering them with make-up before facing Ricardo and Julio. He wished that he could defend himself and apologize to her, but it was hard to get even the smallest amount of words out.

"HUUH! HUUUH! Please — HUUUUH — ple...please, help...can't... Help me..."

Finally, she stood and went over to him. "Christ, just calm down, okay? It's over. There's no reason for you to be freaking out."

Nothing she said comforted him. First off, she was basically diminishing his problems and shaming him for even being upset and, secondly, you never tell someone to calm down when they are having a panic attack.

"How long do these meltdowns usually last?" she asked. "I've never seen you act like this before. It must just be around Ricardo and Julio. See, that should've been a sign right there that they were no good for you. The universe has been trying to tell you something and you refused to see it," she said.

He felt more and more like shit every time she opened her mouth. This wasn't helping. "...can't..."

"You can't breathe. Yeah, I got that," she said. "Just...focus on your breathing or whatever. Don't you know what to do? Hasn't this happened before? Shouldn't you be able to stop these by now?"

She was no help. The only person who knew how to handle Drake at this time was Ricardo, and honestly...Drake was desperate. Through his panic, he started trying to dig his phone out of his pocket.

"So back to the question at hand: how long does this kind of thing usually last? I wanna get to the flea market before the good booths start closing up. If we don't go today, they won't open again until next Saturday. What are you doing?" she asked when he finally managed to pull his phone out with shaky hands.

He dropped it accidentally, then pushed it towards her. "Call...call Ricky..."

"Ricardo?! Fuck that!" Dahlia yelled. "Didn't we just finish having a conversation about never speaking to him again?! Were you even listening to me, Drake?!"

"Please...pl — HUUUUH!" He let go of a sob, then another gasp. "You're yelling..." He was unable to finish his sentence before she snapped on him.

"You're damn right I'm yelling! You're gonna give in that quick?! You're gonna betray me like that by going back to him?! How could you even think about that?! Even after that whole argument, you're still gonna pick him before me — your girlfriend?!"

Drake reached for the phone himself, but Clementine slid it across the floor so that it was far from both of their reaches. The boy's panicking became even worse with this. Dahlia noticed this, rolled her eyes at the inconvenience, then tried to be a little nicer.

"Look, Drake, just stop thinking about all of the other shit. Just focus on me, okay? Look at me." She noticed blood trailing from his neck where he had clawed himself so fervently. "Just think about how great things are gonna be now that you're free from all their negativity. It's just you and me forever. Doesn't that sound good?"

Focusing on Clementine could actually help. On top of his inability to get oxygen, his entire body was in pain. It was mostly in the torso area: his back, his stomach, his shoulders, his ribs. This all made it even harder as time went by. He needed this to be over. He closed his eyes and listened to his girlfriend speak.

"Now we never have to be apart. You'll always have me at your side."

It was a very short-lived sense of security before things started going downhill.

"Of course, you'll have to get a job, which might be a challenge for you. I don't want you to work at some fast-food job. A McDonald's order-taker doesn't belong with a doctor. It's just embarrassing. Not just the wage gap, but when people at work ask me about you and I'll have to tell them you give people McNuggets for a living — I'm wanting to curl up under a rock and die just thinking about it." She shivered. "An office job would be acceptable, though. At least to start out at anyway. I'm just not sure if you would be capable for one of those. You have to be pretty smart. — like with numbers and words and stuff."

This. Was. Not. Helping.

"But that's not your forever job. That's just, like, a filler job until you get your actual job. Have we ever talked about what you wanted to do with your life?"

Believe it or not, they haven't. Clementine and her ideas and plans and thoughts and feelings were the focus of this relationship.

"Well, you'll have to figure it out fast. And then we can get you into school. Wouldn't that be cool? It's a hell of a lot of work, but we could do homework together and, while we do that, we can plan our wedding!" Her eyes glowed at this idea. "Oh, doesn't that sound lovely, Drake?! Even though we said we would marry each other earlier-"

Drake didn't remember this. He was sure she was twisting his words around. Or maybe she just decided for him like she did with everything else. In his current state, he couldn't quite recall.

"-I'm still gonna want a romantic proposal. And a ring — a huge one so everyone can see! We should start looking now. Don't worry. I'll act surprised when you propose." She was so lost in her own fantasy that she didn't notice Drake's hyperventilating getting worse. "Mrs. Drake Parker. Eh. Mrs. Clementine Dahlia Parker. Or should I remove the middle name completely and do that thing where you hyphenate my last name and your last name? I had a teacher like that in high school. I'd be Mrs. Clementine Martin-Parker."

Martin Parker. Honestly, he should've seen the personality resemblance she shared with his father before she put their names together like that. God was probably screaming at him the day he and Clementine met. Her last name had been a sign from the get-go.

"...stop..." Drake tried. Having to ride this out alone in silence, he realized, was better than letting her attempt to calm him.

Unfortunately, Clementine was too excited. "And just think of our future kids! I want six! Three boys and three girls. Like The Brady Bunch! And a cat and a dog."

"Clem..."

He was still hung up on the Martin thing. After she had brought that name to his mind, he realized that this all felt too familiar. It was that night again and his dad was wrapping his fingers around Drake's neck with a smile. It's fucked up that someone could be so excited about ending his own son's life. This was probably Ghost Martin coming to finish the job with his ghost fingers wrapped around Drake's neck and his ghost boner long and hard as he watched his son suffer. He could feel it now. He could feel those strong, unmovable hands, the weight of Martin's body on top of his own, the pain of the man forcing his way inside without even a pathetic attempt at using his own saliva as a lubricant. He was paralyzed like he was pinned down on his stomach. He felt weak, powerless, humiliated, terrified, hopeless, ashamed, confused, angry, repulsive, unworthy, guilty, alone, responsible, unlovable, damaged, scared... He could go on. All of these emotions were debilitating. More often than not, he'd just lay there or stand there and take it...

...and take it...

...and take it...

...and take it...

...and take it...

...and take it...

...and take it...

...until taking it became his norm and losing it left him feeling lost.

"Are you even listening to-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!" It was like he had no control. He shoved her away with enough force to send her on her back.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" she exploded, pushing herself up. She balled up her fist and punched him square on the jaw. Dahlia slugged him two more times until he was on his side, pitifully holding his shaking hands up in surrender.

"Please... HUUUH! I can't... I'm scared."

"ASSHOLE!" she yelled as she stood.

"Please, don't leave me. Please, don't go. Please, don't go! PLEASE, DON'T GO!"

She had to use her muscles to get the door open because part of his body was still blocking it. Despite his desperation, she left him. All he could do was lay there, feeling heavy and glued to the floor as if his dad was on top of him, pinning him against the carpet. What made it all the more terrifying was that he couldn't see. Blinded by his tears, he reached out and tried to drag himself towards his cell phone. He couldn't move. His panicking was at an all-time high. He couldn't even call out to Clementine and beg her to come back. He couldn't do anything. He could never do anything and everyone hated him for it. He shouldn't have been the one who had made it out of the house alive that night. What good had it done? His mother hated him. His sister hated him. His step-brother hated him. His step-father hated him. His ex-girlfriend hated him. Both of his ex-girlfriends hated him actually. His best friends — the only two people who hadn't given up on him — now hated him. His girlfriend hated him. He hated himself.

The weight on top of him was growing. It was like he had dozens of heavy, metal chains wrapped around his body and they were squeezing tighter and tighter. He was going to pass out. His toes clenched and his hands folded into fists so tightly that his knuckles were white and his fingernails tore open both of his palms, drawing blood.

Around this time, Clementine entered the room again. "Here, jerk." She pulled him back up into a sitting position. "Open your mouth."

Drake felt her put something — probably pills — into his mouth. She then carefully tilted a water bottle over his quivering lips.

"That'll help." She twisted the cap back onto the bottle and set it nearby in case he wanted more later, then she stood and went back over to the dresser to finish putting on her make-up. "And I expect an apology when your whole meltdown is over." After hearing a knock at the door, she said, "Come in."

Sam entered. She was about to speak, but Drake's loud gasping and sobbing over to her right attracted her attention. "Oh my God! Are you okay?!"

When she got down on her knees in front of him, Clem said, "I wouldn't touch him if I were you."

"Hey, it's okay. Everything will work out in the end. You'll get through this," Samantha soothed. "You know they didn't mean what they said and, when their anger wears off, they'll realize that you didn't either. Friends fight."

"They definitely meant what they said," Clementine interjected. "I know I meant what I said. They're fucking pricks."

Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head. "All you have to do is apologize and ask to redo the conversation in a calmer, kinder manner. They're your best friends. I know they don't hate you. They just got upset — like you — and things got out of hand. This is all mendable, I promise."

"Actually, we decided that Drake's gonna drop them altogether. We're gonna get all his stuff from the house and then that's it. No more contact with Ricardo and Julio."

Samantha snapped at her. "Can you just — you're not helping!" She turned back to Drake. "Let's just focus on breathing, alright?"

The boy nodded his head. Finally, something was helping. Thank God she had walked in.

"In through the nose. Good. Okay. Out through the mouth. That's okay. It'll come. In through the nose. There we go. You're doing great."

It took fifteen minutes of this before Drake really got control of his body. Sam remained calm and patient and respected his boundaries. She showed him a trick that she had learned from her sister, who had dealt with panic attacks on a regular basis when they were both younger. She got a cup of ice and gave him a piece. She told him to focus on the ice cube and to focus on the feelings of pain and discomfort in his hands as he switched it back and forth when it became unbearable. As strange as it sounded, it actually was really helpful.

"How are we doing?" Samantha asked when she came back with a roll of toilet paper in her hand.

"Better," the boy replied. "Thanks."

"Here." She sat down and gave him the roll. "So you can clean up."

Drake knew he was a mess. He felt like he had snot all over himself. All that rapid, frantic breathing made his nose run. He wiped himself off, then grabbed another tissue to blow his nose.

"Another thing you could do is dunk your head in ice cold water," Sam said. "Sometimes, it'll stop a panic attack in its tracks. I would've had you do that, but it didn't really look like you were gonna be moving."

Drake pulled off some more toilet paper and wiped his eyes. "I'll have to remember that."

"So it's over?" Clementine asked. When he nodded his confirmation, she said, "Good, so we can go to the store soon."

"Give him time, Dahlia. Geez. The last thing he needs to do is rush into things."

"My fucking chest hurts," Drake mumbled.

"It should wear off soon."

The young man yawned. He was overcome with exhaustion and fatigue. "I gotta pee."

Samantha stood, then held out her hand and helped him onto his feet. "You alright?" she asked when she noticed how unsteady he was.

"Yeah. My legs just feel a little weird." He stretched, yawned again, then slowly made his way to the bathroom. As he relieved himself, he felt weak, like it was hard to stand. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten up so fast, but he always had to go to the bathroom after panic attacks, so he didn't really have a choice.

Drake sniffled, then let go of his breath. It felt great to be able to breathe again. He yawned and his eyes watered with it. He hadn't realized until now just how sleepy he was. His brain felt fuzzy and he just wanted to lay down. Clem wouldn't be happy about that. He had to push through and go out with her. He couldn't handle anymore confrontation today.

After he was finished, he tucked himself back into his boxers, buttoned his pants, then flushed the toilet. When he turned to make his way over to the sink, his leg gave out, but he managed to catch himself on the sink before hitting the ground. What the fuck? He pulled himself up. After feeling steady enough on his feet, he washed his hands. While looking in the mirror, he found his reflection to be somewhat blurry. He blinked away the cloudiness. Something was definitely not right about this.

He found himself stumbling when he tried to leave the restroom. He balanced himself on surrounding objects, then held up his weight by placing his hand against the wall so that he could open the door. Outside the bathroom door, his legs failed him once again. This time, he had nothing nearby that was adequate enough to catch his fall. He landed on his bottom. Everything around him was spinning and he seemed to be hallucinating. At one point, he could've sworn that he saw his father in the kitchen grabbing a beer out of the refrigerator.

"Fuck..." he whispered to himself.

Sam's distant voice filled his ears. "Whatever, Dahlia. It's just fucking rude is all I'm saying." Then, "Drake, what happened?! Are you okay?!" She was by his side in a second. "What's going on?"

"Something'swrong," he slurred. It was getting hard to hold his own head up. God, and he was so tired!

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong with him?" Clementine asked as she approached. She'd come out of the room upon hearing her friend's exclamation.

"I think I'm dying," was Drake's reply. "It's...hard to breathe."

"What the fuck? I don't know what's happening." Sam looked up at her roommate with fear and confusion.

Just then, the door opened and Brett stepped inside. He had left work early after his girlfriend had called him during the huge fight. "What's going on?" he asked when he saw Drake on the floor, surrounded by the two girls.

"I don't know what happened," Sam said frantically. "He was having a panic attack and then he was fine and now he thinks he's dying."

"...sleepy..."

"Don't go to sleep," Sam said.

Brett got on his knees in front of Drake and pushed the boy's head up to examine him. "Did you take anything?"

"...Clem..."

"I'm right here, baby."

"Did you give him something?" Brett asked.

"I...I just gave him something to help him calm down."

"What did you give him?" the boy demanded.

"Just some of those muscle relaxers in the bathroom cabinet."

"My old ones? How many did you give him."

"Not many," she said.

"How many?!"

"Just a few!"

"Oh my God. You're not supposed to take more than one."

"He was freaking out!" she defended. "I didn't know what to do!"

"It's a muscle relaxant, Dahlia! It takes muscles to breathe!"

"Well, shit, I was just trying to help." She was being genuine and it was obvious that she was filled with fear.

"Drake, can you hear me?" Sam patted his cheek. To her boyfriend, she said, "What's happening?"

"Help me get him up. We've gotta get him to the hospital. Clem, get a bag. I'm gonna try to get him to throw up in the car."

"I didn't know," she was still saying.

Brett and Sam hefted him up and draped Drake's arms across their shoulder. They dragged him outside to Brett's car and put him in the backseat.

"Here. You drive." Brett gave Sam the keys as he got in next to Drake.

Clem came out with two grocery bags layered and passed them to Brett.

"Get in. We have to go now," he said.

"I'm can't. I can't go."

"Dahlia," Sam said incredulously, "he needs you. You're his girlfriend."

"I'll come later. I just can't see him like this," she said. She was actually crying.

"Are you serious?"

"We don't have time for this. Let's just go." Brett closed the door.

Samantha shook her head with disbelief, but she did what her boyfriend said. She put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway so fast that the tires screeched.

---

"We're almost there!" Samantha said. She was panicking.

Brett was in the backseat pressing down repeatedly on Drake's chest. "Come on, Drake! Come on!" He leaned forwards and engulfed the boy's lips with his own, then breathed into his mouth.

"How's he doing?"

He didn't tell his girlfriend how blue Drake was turning because he didn't want to freak her out anymore than she did when she had seen him begin to perform CPR. "Just get us there!" He was pouring with sweat — partly because of the energy he had to exert and partly because of his fear. "Wake up, Drake!"

"Shit!" Sam cursed when the light up ahead turned red. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck it!"

Angry car horns filled Brett's ears as they ran through the light. He lost his balance and had to catch himself when the girl swerved out of the way to miss a car. He held Drake's nose and breathed into his mouth again. Suddenly, a loud siren blared.

"Oh, fuck!" Sam exclaimed. "It's a cop!"

"Shit!" Brett cursed. He looked out the windows to check his surroundings and gauge how far they were from the hospital: roughly five or so minutes depending on traffic and the number of red lights that caught them. His friend wasn't going to make it. "Pull over. Maybe they can help."

Dahlia listened to her boyfriend. She turned into the parking lot of what used to be a Mexican restaurant that had been empty and abandoned for a couple years. She put the car in park, then opened the door with her hands up.

Brett blew air into Drake's mouth twice, then pumped his chest. "Come on, Drake," he whispered. He could hear Samantha frantically speaking to the policeman. "Come on. Don't you dare leave us. Come on, God. Don't take him yet. Please, don't take him yet."

Sam opened the back door and the officer leaned inside. "Is he breathing?"

"No."

The man reached for Drake's neck to check for a pulse. "Okay, you guys follow me, alright? Don't stop the CPR." He ran back over to his vehicle while Samantha got back behind the wheel.

"Did he have a pulse?" she asked.

"I don't know. He didn't say."

The officer turned on his sirens and lights, then pulled back out onto the main road.

Sam was right behind him. "We'll be there soon, Drake. Just hang on, okay? You gotta hang on."

She was crying. From the front seat, she could hear her boyfriend whispering prayers when he wasn't breathing into the unconscious boy's lungs. She couldn't make out exactly what he was saying through her noisy sobbing, but she definitely heard several mentions of Jesus' name. Brett grew up in a very religious family and he still valued his relationship with Christ over everything else. He was an avid church-goer. Samantha went with him every Sunday and was working on her own relationship with a God she had never been close to before meeting Brett. She, too, began praying.

"Come on, buddy. Stay with me. Please, stay with me."

They made it in two minutes. They pulled up to the emergency room drop off. The police officer jogged inside for assistance and Sam went with him. Brett stayed back and continued CPR.

"Come on, Drake. Breathe. Just breathe." He was a big ball of nerves and it was a wonder that he was able to hold himself together like he was. "God, don't do this." Now his voice cracked and he could feel a lump growing in his throat due to his frustration and lack of results. "I'm begging you not to do this. Please!" He leaned over to give the young man mouth-to-mouth, but he started weeping and it was impossible to do both. He went back to giving chest compressions. "Breathe," he pleaded. His desperation got the better of him and he slammed his fist as hard as he could against Drake's chest. "FUCKING BREATHE!"

And that's when it happened. Drake drew in a breathe of air. By the sound of it, he was struggling just to do so, but he did it.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Thank you, Jesus! Thank you!"

At that moment, Sam ripped the door open. The police officer, along with a male nurse, pulled Drake out and put him on a gurney.

"He started breathing," Brett informed, climbing out of the backseat after them.

"And how many did he take?" came from another nurse.

"We don't know for sure," Sam said. Her eyes moved to Drake and she noticed the blue tint of his skin, which was especially darker around his lips, eyes and fingernails. She felt absolutely sick. She had never seen something like this in real life. She always heard that skin could turn blue, but she never imagined just how blue it could actually get.

"Let's take him back and get him hooked up."

Drake was wheeled away and the officer gave some words of encouragement to the worried couple. They answered his questions about the incident, thanked him, then got back in the car so they could move to an actual parking space.

"You said he was breathing?" Samantha asked fearfully.

"Yeah, he had just started breathing right before everyone showed up." Brett grabbed her trembling hand. "He's gonna be okay, honey." He kissed the top of her hand. "Everything's okay now."

"I told them he had a panic attack and took them to help him calm down and that it wasn't intentional. I didn't want Dahlia to get arrested or anything. I know she didn't mean it and Drake wouldn't want her to get in trouble. She's just as scared as everyone else."

"What the hell was she thinking, though? He almost died. You don't just give someone a bunch of pills when you don't know what the hell they're gonna do. That was fucking stupid."

They found a parking space with ease surprisingly. However, once the car was stopped, they remained still and took a breather.

"God, what a fucking day," Samantha said.

"You did great."

"I was just the driver," she said. "I'm so glad you got home when you did. I don't know what..." She let go of a strangled sob.

"Hey, it's okay." Brett pulled her into a hug and let her rest her head on his chest. "He's gonna be okay."

---

Samantha and Brett approached the room number they had been given. They'd had to wait a long, grueling hour before a doctor met them in the waiting room and gave them an update on Drake's current state. Miraculously, he was breathing on his own and had even held a conversation, although extremely short, with the doctor. His memory had been affected, he was still drowsy and he sometimes started slurring his words or talking nonsense, which they were monitoring very carefully, the doctor had assured.

Sam pushed the door open and slowly walked inside. Drake was sleeping. Seeing him this way broke her heart. She went up to him and gently gripped his hand, careful not to disturb the needles and tubes and wires all over him. Brett quietly pulled up a chair for her, then he put his hand on her shoulder for support. At this moment, a cuff around Drake's bicep started to tighten and check his blood pressure. Brett's attention moved to the consistently beeping machine to check the update on his friend's vitals. The sound of the Velcro being strained and the tightness around Drake's arm woke him. He absently reached for the cuff to pull it away.

"Hey, let's leave that on," Brett said, grabbing his hand.

Drake looked at him with confusion, but he obeyed. After a few more moments, the machine beeped in a different way to alert them of the new results: 92/60. This was very low, Brett noticed.

"How are you feeling?" Samantha asked.

"...mmmsleepy..." he mumbled. "...s'goin' on?"

"You're in the hospital," the boy answered.

Drake's forehead creased and his eyes squinted with confusion. He audibly let go of his breath as he reached up and rubbed his heavy eyes. "Mmm..." he groaned.

"Do you remember what happened?"

The young man stretched out his legs as far as they would go, then pulled his blanket up to his neck, hiding his arms underneath. "S'cold..." he whined. He turned his head away from them and closed his eyes tiredly as Brett went over to adjust the thermostat. "Where's Clem?" Drake whispered.

"She's coming," Sam answered. "She'll be here soon."

Drake then said a couple incoherent sentences — something along the line of seeing beer in a refrigerator? Or that they needed to put beer in the refrigerator? Sam also swore she heard him mention his dad moving in, but she wasn't a hundred percent sure. After this, he dozed off again.

Brett heard his girlfriend sniffle. He squatted down next to her and pulled her into a hug, letting her cry into his shoulder. "It's okay," he soothed. "He's okay, see? The pills are gonna wear off and he'll be back to normal in no time."

Sam was able to calm down after a few minutes. It wasn't long before a nurse came in to change Drake's IV bag. This, too, woke him. Again, he looked around with befuddlement and, this time, even fear.

"Clem?"

"She's coming," Sam assured, holding onto his hand tighter.

Drake looked at her like he was just noticing her for the first time. "Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Where's Clem?"

"She's on her way, babe, okay?"

The nurse assured them that his confusion was normal and would wear off. Brett thanked her as she left.

Drake's eyes moved down his body and he noticed the wires and tubes and needles. He weakly sat up and an unbearable pain shot through his chest. "Ahh!" He started to tear at the tape around his IV.

"Drake, stop," Brett demanded. "Hey! Stop," he said strictly as if he was talking to a young, misbehaving child.

Tears welled up in Drake's eyes then. "Where's Clem? What's going on?"

"She'll be here," Sam said.

It was obvious that he was terrified and disoriented and hurting. "I can't see."

"You're just crying," said Brett.

Drake fervently wiped at his eyes and found that he was right. "I don't know what's happening."

"It's okay. You're in the hospital."

"What?" Drake rested his head in his hands in hopes that it would help him get a grip on reality. "I'm dead then?"

"You're not dead."

"Then where's Clem?"

"I'll call her," Samantha offered, pulling out her cell phone.

"Everything's gonna be okay," Brett said. He spoke slowly so that his friend could attempt to wrap his head around things. "You accidentally overdosed on muscle relaxants. Do you remember that?"

"What?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"What? I don't... What?"

"It's okay. It'll come," Brett said. "The pills will wear off soon, then you'll be thinking clearly again."

"I wanna talk to Clementine."

"She's not answering," Sam said.

"Did I try to kill myself again?" Drake asked.

"No, it was an accident," said Brett.

The young man was absolutely puzzled and perplexed. Nothing was making sense in the slightest, which seemed to scare and upset him even more. This, in turn, made him wish his girlfriend was present and it confused him that she hadn't shown up if what Brett and Sam had said was true.

"Why don't you lay back down?" Brett suggested as he gently helped Drake get situated again, "and get some rest? You can go back to sleep and, when you wake up, things will be a lot clearer." He didn't know this for sure, but this is what he was hoping for.

"Ahhh!" Drake squeezed his eyes closed. "My chest hurts!"

"You've got quite a few fractures and two broken ribs."

Brett was heartbroken when he saw his friend let go of a sob due to the pain he was in. CPR often leads to rib-related injuries. Dealing with this was better than its alternative (dying), so unfortunately, it had to be done.

"Something's wrong." Drake whispered because it took too much work to actually speak at a reasonable volume.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything is fine. You're gonna be fine." Brett's voice was soothing enough to calm Drake so that he could actually form coherent questions and put the pieces of the day's events together.

"What am I doing here?"

The young man remained patient with him. "You overdosed on muscle relaxants."

"When?"

"Earlier today."

"Why did I do that?"

"It was an accident."

Sam felt like she could explain this part better since she was there. "You were having a panic attack. Dahlia was trying to help, so she grabbed Brett's old prescription out of the bathroom cabinet and gave you some without realizing, I guess, that you can't take them like you would Advil or Tylenol."

"So she thinks I hate her?"

"I don't know. I think she just freaked out. Everything was so sudden. One minute, you were fine and the next, you collapsed on the floor talking about chest pains and not being able to breathe."

"Because of my panic attack?"

"No, this was right after."

After a moment, Drake said, "I got in a fight with Ricky and Julio."

"That's right." She was glad to see that his memory was coming back to him. "Should I call them?"

"No, don't." All he wanted right now was Clem and one thing he did remember was her strictly forbidding him to speak to the Santos brother ever again. Whether or not he would actually concede to that rule, he didn't want to cause waves now because he just wanted her by his side. "Is she really coming?" he asked pitifully.

Sam made eye contact with her boyfriend before deciding against lying. "I don't know. I haven't talked to her since we left the house, but she did say that she would meet us here later, so I'm sure she'll be here."

Drake was saddened by this news. He curled up on his side as much as possible (which wasn't much) with the back of his head facing his friends. This was a lot to take in and it was making him exhausted on top of the relentless drowsiness he already felt. Although he wanted to wallow in his sadness, he was asleep again within the next sixty seconds.

---

The next day, Drake was much more clear-headed. Still, Clementine hadn't arrived despite the fact that he had called and texted on multiple occasions. The doctors told him that he could recover from his rib injuries at home and that they were just keeping him to keep an eye on any changes, which, to him, meant that they wanted him to stay longer so that they would get more money. The joke was on them because he didn't have health insurance or a job. He was fed up with laying in bed all day while his girlfriend was out there somewhere hating herself or hating him. Because of this, he had pulled out his IV and started removing everything he could despite Brett's protests. With their hands being forced, they let him go early after having him sign some forms. Now he was pulling up to the driveway. Clementine's car was here, which meant she was here. The second the vehicle stopped, he got out before Sam could offer a helping hand. He ignored the pain in his chest as he did this. They had told him that he needed to refrain from strenuous activity, but also from laying in bed all day. He also had to do breathing and coughing exercises.

Drake made his way into the house. Once he opened the door to his girlfriend's room, he saw her sitting at her desk trying to read her textbook but looking rather preoccupied.

She turned her head his way. "Drake?"

He closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her upper body. This way, she hugged his waist and didn't accidentally hurt his ribs.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so glad you're okay!" she exclaimed with relief. "I can't believe they let you out so quickly."

"They didn't. I pulled the IV out and told them I was leaving."

"Well, why'd you do that?"

"Because I wanted to be with you."

"You mean you're not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad."

"You don't hate me?"

He pulled back and gripped her head in his hands so that she looked into his eyes. "Of course I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"I thought I'd killed you," she said. "It was an accident."

"I know. But I'm okay." When she tightly embraced him, he let out a yelp, which scared her. "My chest is just really sore." He tried to sound normal despite the waves of pain jolting through his torso. "I broke and fractured some ribs. Brett said I stopped breathing on the way to the hospital and he had to do CPR for a few minutes."

"Oh my God." She hugged him much more softer this time. "My poor baby."

He didn't go into detail about how much it hurt to breathe. "It's okay. They said it'll take a month or so to heal, but it'll do it on its own."

She was in school to become a doctor, so she knew that he wasn't being completely honest about how long his recovery would take for her sake. She rested her head on his shoulder and let go of her breath. "I'm so glad you're home. I thought I was gonna lose you."

Drake kissed her hair. "Don't worry, babe. I'm not going anywhere."

---

Author's Note: Hey, guys. I managed to get this chapter out much faster than I have been. I just wanted to give a quick shout-out to the guest who reviewed my last chapter. I love that Ricardo is your favorite character. He's a lovely guy. I'm glad that him coming out went over well with at least one person because the idea just came to me one day and I didn't know if I could get away with it, but then the more I thought about it, I didn't know how to not do it because why has he not been dating or anything? Eventually I will get to Mindy and Drake's kid, but so many other things have been going on in the story that it never felt like the right time. I'm glad you like Drake and Julio's openness and jokes and stuff. I'm all about their friendship. Also, I was excited to read that the Dee twist shocked you because I started to feel like it was becoming a bit obvious after Drakardo happened. But anyway, your review was so sweet and I totally appreciate you taking the time to give me feedback on all your thoughts.

So I know I said Kenzly would be back soon, but it's taking longer than I anticipated and it's actually gonna be a while because I've written a few chapters ahead and this story has taken a turn that I wasn't really prepared for. Thanks for sticking with me. I love you all. Please, review. Good night.