Sorry, Charlie Chapter 8: Engaged, a drake & josh fanfic

(1 week later)

"...and furthermore is the solution of a case such as Situation A, but not for Situation B, which requires different specialty tasks to reach the outcome stated earlier." Drake, clearly confused, shook his head and let go of his breath. "Christ, did you get all that?"

Clem was sitting on the bed. She had one of her knees to her chest and was painting her toenail on that foot a light blue color. "Yeah, keep reading."

"That's the end of the chapter," Drake said as he thumbed through the pages ahead. "Situation B is literally an entire chapter by itself."

"Alright, well, I'm almost done anyway," the girl said. "I'm bloody knackered."

Drake was glad that she was stopping here because his chest was really hurting after all that reading. "You wanna nap?"

"No, then my sleep schedule will get all fucked."

The boy turned in the swiveling chair and watched as Dahlia finished off her last foot. He noticed that she had been a lot quieter than normal and they'd had zero arguments this past week. He thought that maybe it was due to the stress of all her homework. "I think you're doing great at all of this school stuff. I know it's really hard. I don't understand any of this shit. You're the smartest person I know and I think you're doing awesome and I'm proud of you."

She forced a smile, which Drake saw through, then she phlegmatically thanked him.

He squinted his eyes at her emotionless demeanor. "Is there something you wanna talk about?"

Dahlia knew that, if she didn't speak up, her boyfriend would convince himself that he had done something wrong and that she hated him. "I think I might change my major."

"What?" This took him by surprise since she had been going to school to be a doctor since before he had met her. "To what?"

"I don't know. Maybe...I don't know."

"Where's this coming from?"

She shrugged. "I guess I'm just tired of how much work I have to put in. I don't know if it's worth all the stress."

The work was tedious as hell, but Drake knew that there was more to this than that. She's already put at least a year of hard work into this. Why give up now?

"Is it because of what happened?" he asked.

She didn't say anything, but once he asked this question, it opened up the floodgates and she started weeping.

"Baby..." He got on his knees in front of her so that he could see her face, which she tried to hide behind her hair. "That wasn't your fault. You didn't know and I'm an adult; I should've had the common sense to look at what I was taking before swallowing them. I was the stupid one, not you. You were just trying to help and I totally appreciate that." He moved his hands from her hips to the sides of her head. He pushed her hair behind her ear with one and used his thumb to brush away the excess strands on the other side of her face. "You know I don't blame you, hun."

"I'm going to school to be a doctor," she choked out between sobs, "but I panic and freeze up the second something goes wrong. If Sam and Brett hadn't have been there, you would've died."

"I don't believe that for a second," Drake said, his voice soft.

"I couldn't even face you in the hospital. I just left you alone," she whined. "All I could think about was losing you and it would've been my fault. And then Ricardo would've had me put in prison for the rest of my life because he hates me and he should hate me. I'm ruining your life."

"No, you're not."

"I am!"

"Baby, I promise you you're not," he swore, enunciating his words in hopes that they would stick. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than here with you. I'd give up everything for you. I love you. I love you so fucking much. All I want is to spend my life making you happy. I know we fight a lot sometimes when we disagree on things, but I see now that you've been right every single time. I haven't spoken to Ricardo or Julio since the blow-up and I'm not going to. I shouldn't have let them talk to you like they did. You told me that they only kept me around out of pity and I should've seen it sooner. I should've listened to you and I'm sorry that I let everything go on as long as it did, but I know what's real now. The only thing that means anything is my love for you and I wanna prove it to you everyday for as long as I live. Look," Drake said, his heart pounding against his chest now, "I know you said you wanted it to be a huge thing and that you wanted a ring-"

Clementine's head jerked up at this and she finally met his eyes.

"-and I'll get that when I get the money because you definitely deserve it. I don't have any of that extravagant, flashy stuff, but what I can offer you is my life."

"Drake-" her voice squeaked.

"I wanna spend every second of my life making you smile. You're the reason it's possible for me to get out of bed every morning. You're my favorite reason to keep on living. You're a reason to stay clean and get my shit together. You're the reason I wanna make something of myself. I only ever wanna make you proud and nothing else matters to me except you. You make me a better person and you're everything I wish I could be. I don't wanna spend another second away from you. I wanna devote my life to you. I wanna be able to call myself your husband and I wanna follow you everywhere and watch you soar and I'll be on my knees worshiping you the whole way for the rest of my life. I wanna be with you forever, babe. So..."

"Oh my God," Dahlia whispered. She was still crying, but for different reasons now."

"Clementine...Clem..." Drake gazed into her eyes. His were sparkling and glistening with tears that he was holding back as he smiled up at her. He moved his hands down to hers and held them, intertwining their fingers together while, coincidentally, he was still on his knees. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

There was no hesitation. Her voice cracked when she squealed, "Yes! Yes, I'll marry you, Drake!"

The young man was grinning from ear to ear and his tears finally fell. He got on his feet and leaned over her, pressing his lips against hers. She wrapped his arms around his neck, holding him close. They stayed like that for several moments. When they pulled apart, Drake rested his forehead against hers.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

Drake gently caressed her soft cheek with his thumb, his breathing heavy despite the pain it caused in his chest. He looked from her eyes down to her pink lips hungrily, then he passionately kissed her again.

"Can I get y'all anything else?" the waiter, whose name tag read Anthony, asked politely.

The crew (Brett, Samantha, Gemini, Dahlia and Drake) all shook their heads until Brett gave a confirmed, "No, thanks," to their waiter.

"Alright, enjoy your meal and you let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"Okay, so everyone ready to start?" Gem asked. When everybody said they were, he continued. "In case you forgot the rules, Brett-"

"I mean, I can't be the only one here who hasn't seen The Newlywed Game. Help me out here, Drake."

"You're on your own, bud."

"-I'm gonna start," said Gemini, "by asking the ladies five questions that the guys have already answered. Girls, you'll write your answers on the dry erase board and show everyone, then we'll see if you matched with your mans. If you both matched, you get a point. The couple with the most points at the end wins and the losing couple — as we earlier agreed — must put on a fashion show wearing your partner's clothes. Be warned: there's, like, a thousand rounds because I didn't know how long to make this game."

"We better win this," said Brett, "because I'm gonna stretch out all of your clothes."

Sam shrugged. "I guess that just means I get a whole new wardrobe."

Everyone laughed at this. Drake reached for the pitcher of beer that was in the middle of the table. Gemini had ordered it. To celebrate Drake's and Clementine's engagement, Samantha and Brett offered to buy everyone's meal at Chili's and Gemini was paying for the alcohol.

"Hey, don't get crazy, alright?" Clem said quietly after tapping Drake's leg.

This was his second beer already and the food had just gotten here. "Okay," he said. He wasn't an alcoholic and he had never really had much of a problem with alcohol, but because of his genetics and his father being who he was, Dahlia worried about him.

"Oh, guys, you write down your answers on your dry erase boards when the girls do. And no cheating by changing your answers. I've got your sheets here to check. Is everyone ready?"

They were in an isolated booth in the corner of the restaurant, which was great. After reading some of the questions earlier, Drake didn't want his shit put on blast for a bunch of strangers to hear. He was sitting by the window, with Clem in between himself and Gemini. Samantha sat across from Drake and next to her boyfriend.

"Okay, let's begin with an easy one. Who's the better cook?"

"And this is just between me and Sammy?" Brett asked. "And theirs is just between them?"

"Right."

"Okay."

After everyone was finished writing, Gem said, "I'll start with Clem. Who did you say was the better cook?"

She held up her board. "Drake."

"Drake, who did you say?"

"I picked myself," he said as he held his up.

"That's one point for your team. Samantha, who did you choose?"

"I chose myself," she said.

"And Brett?"

"I picked her!"

"So we've got a tie." Gemini drew some tally marks so that he could keep up with the scores. "Next question. What is your partner's dream job?" He paused so that they could all write their answers. "Sam, you go first this time."

She flipped her board over. "I said he'd wanna be a pilot."

Brett excitedly showed her his board, which had that exact answer.

"Dahlia?"

"Mine — I was stuck between two. I was thinking film critic, but I went with — I don't know what it's called, but you get to swim with sharks."

"Oh, shit, you're right! How did I forget that?!" Drake exclaimed, showing his board, which read "astronaut or literally anything else NASA related."

"Those are some very big dreams, Drake," noticed Gem.

"But do you know how fucking dope it would be to wear official NASA clothes instead of fake NASA clothes from, like, Target?"

"You literally own fake NASA clothes from Target," Brett said.

"Hush your mouth. And like, I would just go to the grocery store with my NASA uniform on and be like, 'Oh, this old thing? No big deal. I just work for the fucking National Aeronautics and Space Administration.'"

"Wow, I'm impressed," Sam said with a laugh. "I did not know that that's what it stood for."

"Take a shot every time Drake says NASA," teased Brett.

"Fuck off," said Drake.

"Question three," Gemini said. "Who usually gets their way? Oh, boy, I bet we can all guess this one. Let's see it, Dahlia."

She chuckled. "Definitely me."

Drake's answer matched hers and Brett and Samantha both said Sam.

Gem shook his head. "Y'all some pathetic, pussy-whipped bastards if I've ever seen any."

"Okay, but look who's playing the game and look who's stuck reading the questions," said Brett.

"Touché, prick. And since we're on the subject — question four: who initiates sexy times most often?"

Both teams got that one correct, with the answers being Drake and Brett. The next question was about the boys' dream vacations. Samantha got her boyfriend's correct when she guessed Hawaii, but Clementine went with London instead of Scotland.

"As we finish off the first round, the score is currently five to three, with Samantha and her boo thang in the lead. Next, I'll be asking the guys this time."

"Can I have some of your macaroni?" Clementine said innocently. She knew he couldn't be mad at that face despite the fact that he had told her twice that she should order some because she always ended up eating his.

Drake swallowed down the Dos Equis (Gem's choice) that was in his mouth and nodded. He honestly wasn't that hungry because the glasses they were drinking out of were fairly big and beer was somewhat filling. He would be surprised if he finished his honey chipotle-tossed chicken fingers.

"Brett, Drake, here is your question: who said 'I love you' first?"

Both answered themselves and matched with their girlfriends. They also were correct when they both put themselves down for the louder snorer. However, it was unclear whether they were actually being truthful or just being nice. The two couples earned another point by guessing that both Brett and Clementine controlled the television remote in their respective relationships.

"Would you reveal a deep, dark secret about your spouse for a million dollars?" After giving them time to write their answers, Gemini said, "Drake, you're up."

When he flipped his board over to show that he would, Sam's jaw dropped. "Drake! How could you?!"

"No, she'd literally get pissed if I didn't do it," he explained.

"Yup." She showed her board. "Good job. Bring home that million."

"Well, I guess I got this question wrong," Brett said, revealing that he, too, would tell one of his girlfriend's secrets for the money.

"Brat! You better not!"

"Final question for round two: boys, what grade would you give your ladies in lovemaking?"

Both women assumed that their men would go with A+'s, but that's just because they're both sex-driven guys who would pretty much fuck anything that walked. They were proved correct.

Gemini fake-coughed while saying, "Pussy-whipped," then he went on to announce round three. "Alright, ladies. To which charity is your partner most likely to donate to? And after looking at your answers on these sheets, it looks like none of you actually know the names of any charities."

"I've donated when I've seen people taking up money on the side of the road or the grocery story, but as far as going out of my way to donate to something that would be close to my heart, I haven't done that," admitted Samantha. "But if I were to do that, I'd really have to look into who I'd be giving money to because some charities, even the popular ones, don't divvy up the money well."

"So what do you think Brett said?"

"We've never discussed this kind of thing, so I just wrote 'animal-related charity' because that's what I would've donated to."

"I put sex trafficking," the boy said. "My church donates to one, but I don't remember the name."

"Dahl's?" Gem said.

"I didn't know either, so I just went with 'something for physical and sexual abuse.'"

This just got super uncomfortable super fast. Drake showed his board. "Drug addiction."

While the host looked down at his paper for the next question, Clem slipped her hand under the table and grabbed his. He could tell that she was hoping that her answer hadn't brought up any negative emotions or bad memories. He leaned forwards and gave her a quick peck on her temple to let her know that he was okay.

"What is the most embarrassing thing they have said or done around you? Dahlia, you're first?"

"I wrote down the time Carter beat you up in the front yard."

"What the fuck? When was that?" Brett asked, looking from one to the other, then back again.

"Like, right after I got clean. Or kinda clean. I relapsed right after, then I got clean." He showed his board. "I put 'the thing I told you the day we made up.'"

No one pried further. Besides Gem, everyone knew or could assume that he was referring to the thirty to seventy to "maybe more" guys he had slept with for money because Clementine had surely told the other couple right after he'd admitted it to her.

"Sam?"

"I said-" She was already laughing. "I said our first date when he tried to show off by doing some cool trick on his bike and he face-planted and I had to take him to the hospital."

Everyone else laughed, too, lightening the mood.

"In the end, I still got the girl, so that sounds like a win in my book." He had the same answer.

The next question was 'What word best describes your partner first thing in the morning?' Sam called Brett grumpy and they got theirs correct. Drake had been unable to think of anything, so he also went with grumpy (since he and Brett had worked on their questions together beforehand). However, Clementine had written the word 'horny.'

Drake scoff. "Clem! ...Yeah, you're right."

Next, they were quizzed on their significant other's coffee preferences. Brett liked an excess of cream and sugar while Drake, according to Dahlia, preferred his 'nasty (no cream, no sugar, lukewarm).' Both couples matched. For the question 'If he could throw a themed party, what would it be?' Sam and Brett matched with 'pool party.' Drake, however, said he'd prefer an It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia theme while his fiancée answered with, 'None. He doesn't like parties.'

"You're right," he said. "I didn't know we could say that, though."

"Time for round four. I need that guy to come back so I can get another pitcher of beer." Gemini searched around the crowded restaurant with his eyes in hopes that he could spot him.

"Well, I have to pee," Clementine said.

"Me, too." Samantha stood. "Watch my purse," she said to Brett before following her friend.

When they were gone, Brett said, "So what the fuck happened with Carter, though?"

"He's just an arrogant douchebag and things got physical. I'm a lover, not a fighter, so obviously, I got my ass handed to me," Drake said. "Me and Julio and this other guy had a gig at our old performance spot and some jerkoff tossed a box of Triple's C's on the stage, then got everyone cheering me on to take them. Clem said it was Carter because he found out she came to see me and was pissed."

"Yeah, she said something about that."

"How are you gentlemen doing?" The waiter asked as he approached.

Drake waited until Gem ordered another pitcher of beer and Anthony left before saying more. "I don't even remember much of what happened afterwards. One second, I was on stage singing and the next, I was in the cold medicine aisle at Walmart."

"Yeah, he just walked off the fucking stage and never came back," Gemini said, sharing his experience since he was there. "I did hear a lot of people talking about it afterwards. I think most of them felt bad. I don't think they realized that you were done with that shit. And honestly, I don't think they even realized that they were doing wrong until you left."

"I don't even like to think about it," Drake said. "It was so embarrassing. I was crying and everything. I was crying in front of all those people. Hell, I was even crying in front of the fucking cashier at Walmart. I was a fucking mess."

"I thought you didn't do it, though," Gemini said.

"I didn't. Ricky ended up talking me through it and he got rid of them. You know what?" Drake put his feet in the seat and gracefully hopped out over Gem so that he wouldn't have to get up again. "I have to pee, too."

Roughly five minutes later, everyone was back in their seat, there was another full pitcher of beer and they were starting round four.

"Okay, here we go. Guys, what's their favorite thing that you wear?"

When it was time to show answers, Drake held up his board. He thought that he had a good shot at getting this answer correct because Clementine often insisted on picking out his day-to-day outfits and there was one she made him wear most often. "I put that blue and black plaid button-up collar thing."

"I put your birthday suit," she said mischievously.

This made Drake laughed. "Oh my God."

"Oh, sweetie, you're blushing," Gemini said when he noticed the boy's cheeks turn a shade of pink.

Drake wiped at his eyes, which were tearing up. It took close to a minute before the group was able to cease their laughter.

"Okay, Brett?"

"I have these really tight skinny jeans that really accentuate my ass. She can't keep her hands off me when I wear them."

"You do! I forgot! Ugh, I put your toe socks."

"My fucking toe socks?!"

More laughter.

"They're cute!" Samantha defended. "They got little crabs and sand and stuff on them. But yeah, I should've said the pants."

"Okay, so the same question, but backwards: which item of clothing do you wear that your partner hates?" Gemini asked. "Starting with Brett."

When the answers were written, Brett said, "I said my ridiculously tight — like douchebag tight — work-out shirt."

"No, Brat!" She playfully smacked him with her board before showing her answer. "Your white puffy shirt that makes you look like a pirate!"

"Oh, yeah."

"I've tried throwing it away twice and he's found it both times," she said.

"Alright, Drake, what's your answer?"

"My 'I forget what eight was for' tee."

"Yep!" Clementine said, revealing that she had the same answer.

"What's wrong with that?" Sam asked. "It's a Violent Femmes lyric, right?"

"Yeah, that's what he tells everyone when they ask," said Clementine. "But what he doesn't tell people is 1). that song plays in the movie Purgatory House while a girl takes a bunch of pills to kill herself and 2). eight is the — quote, unquote — magic number of Triple C's a beginner has to take in order to feel a high."

"Shit, Drake," said Brett.

"Look, we're gonna get these boys good and drunk," Samantha said to Dahlia, "and we're gonna go home and destroy those fucking shirts once they pass out."

"Don't you dare! That's my favorite shirt!" Drake said. "I hardly even wear it. And you guys just don't understand how freeing it is to be able to walk around with your shirt basically declaring that you're a drug addict right in front of people's faces and they don't judge you for it. It's like an inside joke with myself, except I guess now you all know it, so now I can only use it for comfort when I'm out in public." Wow, that got pretty personal. He probably should've kept all that to himself. He hadn't meant to get so worked up, but, like always, he got defensive when it came to Charlie. He relaxed his muscles and sat back against the booth. In a calmer, quieter manner, he said, "I think I'm drunk."

"And that's not the only thing he owns with a hidden Charlie reference in it," Dahlia said. "He's got that hour glass with stars on it that represents both the sixty minutes it takes for the drug to kick in and some hallucination he had several years ago about outer space and 'meeting the lady who holds the planets together.' And that five dollar neon light where you get to create your own shape — he made a head with a brain that says 'See' in it. You'd automatically assume just by looking at it that it's saying something about being woke or whatever when it's really just a play on the word 'See,' which is actually meant to be a cover-up for the letter 'C' in Triple C's. So he's basically saying that he has Charlie on the brain and also that he feels woke on drugs. He didn't tell me that one. I just figured it out because I know how his mind works."

"Christ, Clem, stop telling all my secrets," Drake said softly. He tried to explain himself. "I know it sounds bad to have all these little reminders everywhere that no one else knows about, but it's actually more of, like, a security blanket than a trigger. If these things triggered me, obviously, I wouldn't have them," he assured. "The world looks down on people like me and, even though I'm clean now — and hopefully, for the rest of my life — I'm still a drug addict. It's something I'll always have to deal with and it's part of who I am, so turning on my neon light or using my hourglass or wearing my shirt is me expressing that side of me in a clever way so that I don't face backlash or judgement or ridicule. I don't wanna have to hide one of the biggest parts of me because that's depressing as shit. And even though people still don't actually understand because they don't know what these things in my life are actually representing, I know. I know what it means and I'm not hiding it and bottling it up. It's not my fault if people just assume that it means something else."

Brett was the first one to speak. "Isn't that was Narcotics Anonymous is for? That way, you can be around other people like you who know what you're going through."

"I don't like NA. The last thing I need is to be around a bunch of addicts everyday who are on better, harder drugs. I get manipulative as hell when I wanna use. I'd ruin someone's life to get heroin." At this moment, he had flashbacks to Meelah (who had died because of his addiction), Mindy (who struggled with a meth addiction after he introduced her to the drug) and his mother (who was in a wheelchair). This is not the time for a fucking episode, Drake. We're not doing this right now. You're fucking engaged. Don't be a party pooper and have a meltdown. The young man picked up his glass and chugged the rest of his beer while everyone just watched in silent unease. When it was empty, he set his cup down a little louder than he'd meant to. "Okay." Belch. "Next question."

Gemini, ever the party-lover, jumped right back into it as if this serious moment had never happened. "Who is the dominating partner in the bedroom. Drake, we're coming to you first."

His answer was, "It's pretty even, I think."

Clementine's answer matched his and Brett and Samantha both put Brett. For the questions 'Who has a better sense of humor?' and 'Who is better at lovemaking?' everyone said their partner for both, so no one got those last two points.

They were halfway through the game. Gemini was in the bathroom. Everyone was finished eating with the exception of Drake, who still had a chicken strip and a handful of fries left. Anthony grabbed all the empty plates out of the way. When he asked if Drake was finished, the boy said he was, but Samantha asked if she could have his last chicken finger and Brett snacked on his leftover fries. The newly engaged couple declined dessert although Sam kept pushing them to order some.

"I'm so full," Dahlia said and Drake nodded his agreement. Also, the beer was making her drowsy, so she laid her head on her boyfriend's shoulder.

He ran his fingers through her hair and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "You okay, babe?" The restaurant was pretty noisy and Sam and Brett were having their own conversation, so only his fiancée heard him.

"Yeah. I could go for a kip right about now, though."

He moved his hand down to her back because tousling through her hair could make her fall asleep. "I love you." He kissed her hair.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

He knew what she meant. This was the first time they had really gone out like this since the accident. He'd opted out of taking the pain medications due to his addictive tendencies and Clementine's worries. He had his ups and downs, and luckily, tonight wasn't so bad.

"I'm alright," he said. "Kinda drunk, though. Who's driving home?"

"Brett, I think. He stopped drinking ten minutes ago."

Drake closed his eyes, taking in the scent of her perfume and the warmth of her skin. Sitting there like this with her — his only thoughts were how much he loved her and how absolutely grateful he was that she had taken him back. He wished there was something he could do to show her how much she meant to him. For a moment, he considered taking her to the bathroom and going down on her, but then he realized that sex was always his go-to way of showing appreciation. He didn't want to thank her by giving her an orgasm like he was paying her back for something. This wasn't a transaction and he needed to learn to stop looking at sex that way. Of course, he didn't always view it that way, but sometimes he did. Could you blame him? After Molly? Tad? The truckers? With all three of those, he had traded his body for money or drugs or a combination of both. What about Martin? That one was forced — there was no doubt about that. However, maybe there was a sliver of a transaction being made. Maybe Drake had thought that, by giving him what he had and by staying quiet about it, he could somehow buy his father's love. Fear had a lot to do with it — don't get him wrong — but there had to be more to it than that, right?

Martin (Drake's conscience): Do you really think you deserve to be with someone like her?

Drake: Don't start this right now.

Martin: You're just using her to give yourself some sense of normality.

Drake: I'm not.

Martin: You were never normal. You were always a damaged freak.

Drake: Drake, don't you dare go down this road right now. I'm serious.

Martin: You abandoned her...right, and then you fucked a hundred other men while she laid in bed obsessing over what she had done wrong — what she may have said or didn't say. While she was killing herself worrying about you, you were having the time of your life making a complete mockery of the relationship you had with her. ...What, you have nothing to say? You really think you can do much better than I did in my marriage, Drake? Face it. We're the same person. Look at the path you're on and tell me mine didn't start the same way. Well, except I didn't go out and prostitute myself like you did because I'm not a manwhore. You try and you try and you try to stop it, but everyday, you find that you have become a little more like me.

Drake: I'm nothing like you.

Martin: I know you see it. I'm not even real, Drake. This is literally you having a conversation with yourself, but projecting your dark thoughts — the fucking truth — to come from me. It's easier to deny when it comes from me, isn't it? But if you had to admit it to yourself, you'd have to believe it, wouldn't you? You made me your fucking conscience, Drake.

Drake: No, you made yourself my fucking conscience — you with all your bullshit lies you hammered into my brain my entire fucking life!

Martin: Are they lies, though?

Drake: Fuck you!

Martin: Look, all I'm saying is that I think I proved my point.

Drake: You making me want to fucking kill myself sometimes!

Martin: Then maybe you should consider doing that.

"I have to go to the restroom," Drake said suddenly. Once he was out of the booth, he walked both as calmly and as quickly as he possibly could. He went into the closest stall to the door, hunched over the toilet and vomited. This gave him great pain, so he clutched his chest.

A voice came from the next stall over. "The fact that I can tell it's you by the sound of you hurling either say a lot about you or it says a lot about me." It was Gemini.

He was caught. He hated getting caught wallowing in sadness and self-pity, especially now: the night of his engagement. His friends had taken them out and here he was spoiling it. He flushed the toilet and, when he exited the stall, Gem was already at the sink washing his hands.

"You okay?" his friend asked.

"Yeah. Too much to drink." Drake went to the neighboring sink and rinsed his hands, then he leaned far over it, scooped some water into his hands, swished it around, then spat it out.

"Too much to drink? What have you had? Four or five beers?" Gem knew better. He knew Drake's tolerance level since the boy had spent a week going out clubbing with him every night. "Come on. Spill."

Drake was patting his face with his wet hands, taking comfort in the coldness of the water. "It's really nothing."

"You having second thoughts?"

"Of course not."

Gem watched his friend dampen the back of his neck. "You having old thoughts?" he said more considerately.

Drake knew Gemini wouldn't stop until he got his answer. Plus, maybe having someone to talk to was a good idea. He needed to stop whatever was starting because he didn't have Ricardo or Julio to calm him later. He let go of his breath and spoke in a more somber voice. "Yeah, I guess."

"Is it the game? Are some of the questions-"

"No, the game's great," Drake said. "Thanks for putting it all together so quickly."

"Then what's up?"

Gemini was a great friend — he truly was — but Drake would be lying if he said he didn't miss being back home, where Ricardo and Julio could usually look at him and just know everything on his mind. It was easier when he didn't have to humble himself and admit these things out loud.

"I don't know. It's really not that serious, I guess." He straightened and turned off the faucet, then grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser. "My mind is just so quick at convincing me of a bunch of bullshit and I don't even have time to process anything before I've flown off the handle." He knew that Gem didn't know how to deal with him when this happened, so he flashed him a fake smile. "I'm really fine now that I've taken a second to just-" He exhaled. "-step back."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. All good."

And he was, or so it seemed. When they went back out to the table, he was laughing and cutting up right along with the rest of them as if his little meltdown in the bathroom hadn't happened.

"Sam, do you have any gum?" Drake asked. He was starting to get self-conscious about whether or not he had vomit breath.

"Oh, yeah." She looked down at her purse, which was in between herself and her boyfriend.

"Are we ready for round five?" Gemini asked.

"Good Lord, there's a lot of rounds," said Brett.

"But it's fun, though." Samantha passed some gum across the table.

"Thanks," said Drake.

"Yeah, but I feel like we're in the lead right now and I don't wanna lose," said Brett. "Are we in the lead?"

"You'll have to wait until the end and see," Gem teased. "Okay. Here's your question: Girls, what were they like on the first date? Sam, you're first."

After everyone wrote down their answers, she revealed hers.

"Dorky?!" Brett exclaimed, earning several laughs. His dry-erase board read 'gentlemanly.'

"We just discussed you face-planting!" she defended.

"Okay, over to Dahlia," Gem said. "What was your boy toy like on the first date?"

"Horny," she said without hesitation.

"Clem, is that your answer for everything?!" Drake said.

"No, that's your answer for everything," was her reply. "The fuck? You put charming?"

"I got you to come back home with me, didn't I?"

"Wait, so you two started out as, like, a one night stand?" Brett asked. "And now you're getting married. That's so crazy." He said it with fascination rather than judgment.

"Next question. Dahl's, what is Drake's worst habit?"

"Drugs."

Drake groaned.

"You put 'leaving the keys in the ignition?'" Her face changed from confusion to acceptance. "Yeah, you do do that a lot, don't you? Over drugs, though?"

"I didn't know we were being so literal," he said.

"Samantha, what's Brett's worst habit?"

"I said 'leaving the toilet seat up.'"

"Right!" Drake agreed. "Just the other day, my cat jumped onto my lap and I asked Clem why she was wet. She said she didn't know; she just saw her run out of the bathroom. I think she jumped onto the toilet expecting the seat to be there and it wasn't and she fell in!"

Brett busted out in hysterics. "What?! You never told me that!"

"I think you had just left for church or something. Anyway, Agent Jack Bauer was not happy when I tried to dry her off." He pointed to a long cut on the top of his hand.

"Your cat jumped in the fucking toilet! Aw, man, I wish I could've been there!"

"Rude," Drake said.

"So what did you put?" Gemini asked.

Brett showed his board although he was still stuck on the cat story. "I put 'clipping my toenails on the bed.'"

"Oh, yeah," Sam agreed with a face of disgust.

"Next question goes to Samantha. What is the thing your partner's most likely to go to jail for?"

She wrote her answer down, then revealed it once everyone was finished. "I put stealing an airplane for a joyride."

"Oh, see, I just put downloading music illegally."

She gave him a dead stare. "You would put something dumb like that."

He shrugged. "What? I'm a good little Christian boy."

When it was Clementine's turn, she said, "Drugs again."

This time, Drake matched her. When Gem asked the women what their men could improve on during a lovemaking sesh, everyone answered foreplay.

"I mean, he's great at it when he does it," Samantha said. "But then there are times when he's just so impatient like-"

"Like he's just looking for a hole to stick his dick in," Clem finished.

"Exactly. Just last week, we started getting intimate. You know how long the foreplay lasted? Three minutes."

"You think that's bad?" Clem started. "Drake-"

"Okay! Okay," the mentioned boy interrupted. "Do we really need to be talking about this now? Or like...ever?"

Brett, of course, agree, but Gemini didn't. "Let her finish, Drake. I wanna hear the story."

Clementine looked at her fiancé, then said, "No, never mind, I'm not gonna do that to him." As a joke, she leaned closer to Gem and put her hand over one side of her mouth so that Drake couldn't see her lips moving, but he heard her say, "I'll tell you later."

They moved on to the next question. The women were asked what their partners' favorite movies were. Samantha guessed The Fast and The Furious although Brett said The Rock and Clementine put Trainspotting when the answer was actually Requiem For A Dream.

"Oh, right," she said. "I forgot about that one. You talk about Trainspotting all the time, though."

"I do," he agreed. "It's definitely a close second."

The next two rounds went something like this:

Gem: Who's the better kisser in your relationship?

Drake: Clem.

Dahlia: Him.

Brett: She is.

Sam: I said you.

Gem: Who is most likely to deal with a spider?

Brett: Me.

Sam: Him.

Drake: I put Clem.

Dahlia: Yup.

Gem: Pussy.

Dahlia: No, he'll deal with it. He'll spend twenty minutes trying to trap it in a bowl so he can take it outside. I'll just walk up and squish it.

Drake: I just had a bad experience once. Sometimes my heart gets too involved.

Sam: I feel like there's a story. I need to hear this story.

Drake: It's really nothing. I was washing my hands in the bathroom, but when I went to dry them off, I noticed a huge ass wasp. Naturally, I noped the fuck out of there and shut the door to trap it, but when I went back to my room, I kept thinking that I needed to do something about it because Ricky and Julio's cousins were over and they had little kids, so I grabbed some bug spray. I went in the bathroom and kept spraying, but this thing just kept flying around and wouldn't die. Right then, it kinda hit me what I was doing and I started thinking that this wasp's kids were gonna wonder where the fuck their dad was when he didn't come home. I start crying and apologizing profusely-

Brett: What the fuck?

Drake: Yeah, I know. Clearly, I have some weird underlying issues. Anyway, so I decide I don't wanna be apart of what I'm doing and I leave again. I go back to obsessing over it in my room and conclude that I need to let it go free if it's still alive. I go back to the bathroom and find it in the sink having a seizure, so I'm just totally fucking upset and pissed at myself. I just stood there for a good minute thinking about what I had done and how this wasp's family is gonna hate me, but then I tell myself I have to put this poor wasp out of his misery because he's suffering. I grab one of Ricky's shoes — because I'm not about to use my own — and I go back in the bathroom and squish it. When I pull the shoe away, it's still convulsing and shit, but now it looks like its legs and wings are broken. I swish it again and put all my weight on it. I don't know how the fuck it was possible, but it's still twitching and I'm full-on crying at this point. Since it's in the sink, I just decide to drown it, so I turn on the faucet and sprinkled some water on top of its head to make sure it didn't just float with it and struggle slowly. The little guy finally died and I just kinda stood there some more and stared at its lifeless body and thinking about what inside me made me slaughter this helpless thing. Finally, I grabbed some toilet paper and tossed it in the trash like his life never meant anything, but I didn't know what else to do with it, then I went in my room and had a whole episode.

Gem: Shit...

Drake: I don't know why you guys are laughing. It was one of the most tragic things I've ever had to go through. I decided from that point on I was never gonna harm another bug out of fear. And I was scared for no reason. Sure, it could've stung me and that would've sucked for a little bit, but I've been through worse, so like, what the fuck was I thinking. A little wasp lost his life and his family stayed up wondering why he hadn't come home.

Brett: That's not how it works, though.

Drake: I Googled what bug spray does to bugs and got a full description of the hell that wasp went through. It's pretty brutal. That whole thing was so traumatic that I had a nightmare about it months later. I dreamed I was at my neighbors selling crack for some reason and I could see the police pull up in my driveway with a Netflix van because I didn't pay my subscription. They somehow saw me through the window and my neighbor told me to stay inside while she spoke to them. Then Ricky pulled up in his car and they arrested him, so I had to go outside and admit that it was me that didn't pay the subscription and not him. This douchebag cop pointed a shotgun at me trying to be all intimidating and I was like 'I'm suicidal. You're gonna have to do something else to scare me.' I wasn't being smug about it or anything. I was honestly trying to help him out. These two other women officers came up and started interrogating me like, 'What happened on the night of blah blah blah when that bee died?' It was a bee instead of a wasp in my dream for some reason. They were going to arrest me because it was illegal to kill bees unless it was in self-defense, so I tell them the story of what happens. Like you assholes, Ricky and Julio thought it was funny as hell, so I knew I could win the cops over, too, by telling it in a comedic, but sincere way. They laughed, too. I stopped after the part where I sprayed it and didn't talk about the suffering it went through. They're like, 'Okay, yeah, the bee was somewhere that it wasn't supposed to be, so that's self-defense.' So they let me off the hook. I became friends with one of the women after that, then I overheard her and the other lady talking about how she was just pretending to be my friend because they were trying to get me to confess to what really happened to the bee.

Sam: I wish the Magic School Bus was real because I need Ms. Frizzle to shrink me so I can spend one day in your brain. It just sounds so fascinating.

Drake: Trust me. It's not.

Gem: Were you high?

Drake: No. It had been a long time since I had last used. None of you have weird dreams like that?

Brett: I've had my fair share of weird dreams, but that's just a whole new level.

Drake: All my dreams are like that. I don't know why.

Sam: After knowing you for about a year, this is my new favorite story of yours.

Drake: Well, I'm glad someone is enjoying my suffering. Anyway, don't kill bugs, kids. It's really rude.

Dahlia: Why are you eyes so watery?

Drake: Because I'm drunk.

Dahlia: Sure.

Gem: Well, now that story time's over... What's your partner's most prized possession or the item they'd save in a fire (apart from you)? I don't even remember where we left off.

Sam: It's their turn.

Gem: Alright. Drake?

Drake: I put her phone.

Dahlia: Yup.

Brett: The dog.

Sam: Coco.

Gem: Who is louder in bed?

Drake: Her.

Dahlia: Me.

Brett: Sammy.

Sam: It's me.

Gem: Which of you is smarter?

Brett: Sam.

Sam: Aw, I put you. You're an electrician. I'm just a waitress at Hooters.

Brett: A waitress at Hooters who watches Jeopardy all the time.

Gem: Drake, what's your answer?

Drake: Definitely Clementine.

Dahlia: I put me.

Gem: That finishes up that round. Only two more to go, you guys, so I hope you're feeling confident with your answers.

Anthony: How's everyone doing over here?

Sam: We're good, thanks.

Anthony: Can I get this last plate out of your way?

Sam: Thanks.

Brett: I'm actually getting kinda hungry again. Babe, you wanna get a dessert to split?

Sam: I'm not sure how much I can eat, but I could go for a couple bites of something sweet. This beer makes me wanna snack.

Brett: Could we get...could we get the molten chocolate cake?

Anthony: Sure.

Brett: You guys want anything?

Drake: Clem?

Dahlia: I could go for some dessert.

Drake: I'm full.

Dahlia: Me and Gemini can share.

Brett: Okay, make that two molten chocolate cakes, please.

Anthony: Okay, I'll bring those right out for you.

Sam: Thanks.

Gem: Okay, next question's for the ladies. Dahlia, what adjective best describes Drake in the bedroom?

Drake: Oh, boy...

Gem: What? You worried about her answer after the foreplay one?

Dahlia: I put experienced.

Drake: I said open-minded because you always wanna try new stuff and I just kinda go with it.

Sam: My answer was hyper.

Brett: Hyper?!

Sam: Well, what did you put?

Brett: Not fucking hyper.

Sam: God-like. Okay, Brat.

Drake: Oof.

Gem: Who usually apologizes first after an argument?

Sam: I put me, but I don't know.

Brett: I wrote me.

Sam: Yeah, I think it's pretty even.

Dahlia: Drake.

Drake: I put myself.

Gem: *cough* Pussy-whipped.

Drake: You're damn right.

Dahlia: That's my man. You tell him.

Gem: Alright, what is one thing your partner does for you that they hate, but they do it because you love it?

Dahlia: He started letting me choke him during sex.

Drake: Christ.

Brett: Pa ha ha!

Sam: Brat!

Brett: Sorry! Sorry! I wasn't expecting that. I'll clean it. Did I spit it on you?

Drake: It's okay. It's just a little.

Brett: I'm sorry. I was shook.

Gem: Well, I need to know. Did you have the same answer?

Drake: I put watching chick flicks.

Dahlia: I thought you loved watching chick flicks.

Drake: I do love watching chick flicks.

She grinned, then kissed him.

Gem: You two make me sick. Sam, what did you write?

Sam: I put that he hates when we have dinner with my mom.

Brett: Hell yeah, that's what I put.

Gem: If he could only have one food for the rest of his life, what would it be? Samantha?

Sam: Steak?

Brett: Yep!

Dahlia: I put chicken tenders because that's literally the only thing he ever orders when we go out somewhere.

Drake: Sour fruit gushers.

Dahlia: Well...bloody hell. How was I supposed to guess that?

Anthony: Alright, here's your dessert. Need anything else?

Brett: No, thank you.

Gem: Okay, ladies. What does your man do to let you know that he's "in the mood?"

Sam: Mmm, this cake is delicious.

Dahlia: He gives me fuck-me eyes.

Drake: I wrote massages.

Brett: You wrote messages.

Drake: Well, fuck.

Dahlia: Yeah, you do that, too. I don't know. It's a range of things. Sometimes he does nice stuff like that, then other times, he's just like "Hey, can we fuck?"

Gem: Classy, Drake.

Sam: Brett starts kissing my neck and snuggling with me.

Brett: I wrote kissing.

Sam: Does that count?

"I'll allow it," said Gemini, "which brings this round to an end. Now for the final round. Guys, I'm asking you the questions. Is everyone ready?" After their confirmation, he read off the first question. "Which of you has the most exes? Brett, we're coming to you."

Both Brett and Samantha wrote down the girl while Clementine and Drake wrote down the boy. Both couples matched for the question 'Which one of you makes the final decision in important matters?" The answers were Dahlia and Brett. Both of the young women answered their significant other when Gemini asked who in their respective relationships acted most like a baby when sick. The boys agreed.

"Here's a doozy. Drake," Gemini said with a smirk, "do you think Dahlia has ever faked an orgasm with you?"

He looked a little embarrassed when he said, "I wrote yes?"

"Really? Why?" Clem asked, flipping her board to show that he was incorrect. "You always get me off or get me close to it before you go in and, if you cum first, you always make sure to finish me off."

"I just didn't wanna come off as cocky and say you didn't and then get proved wrong."

"Okay, Brett, whatcha got?" Gem said.

"I put no."

Samantha was quiet when she turned her board around to show that he was incorrect. After a short moment of letting the news sink in, she said, "It was one time. I was extremely tired that day, but I didn't want you to think it had anything to do with your performance. There was just no way that it was gonna happen."

"Well, shit."

"Alright, everyone. This is it: the final question of the night. Are you ready?" Gem read from the paper. "What song describes your partner in the bedroom? I can tell you right now — for me, sometimes it's like It's Raining Men and then other times it's Beat It."

The crew laughed at this.

"So we're going to Brett first. Oh, boy, I can't wait to hear this."

"*I*-" Brett grinned. "-answered the song Daddy's Home."

Again, there was more laughter.

"Oof," Drake said.

"She likes to call me Daddy sometimes-"

"Brat!" However, Samatha was laughing. "I put Feel Good Inc."

"Gorillaz. Hell yeah!" Drake reached across the table and gave her a high five.

"Judging my answer," Brett mumbled. "Let's see what you put then, Drake."

"Well, I was gonna go with The Beatles classic Come Together-"

Again, everyone erupted.

"-but I know how much Clem likes the band Buckcherry, so I said Crazy Bitch."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, showing that her answer matched.

"Hey, you're crazy bitch, but you fuck so good I'm on top of it," Samantha drunkenly sang. "Man, what a throwback."

"So what are the scores?" Brett asked impatiently.

"Hold on," Gem said as he went over the paper.

"That was really fun," Samantha said, to which the newly engaged couple nodded their agreement.

"Taste this, Drake," Clementine said.

"I'm really full."

However, the girl got a forkful of the molten cake and held it up to her fiance's lips, so he accepted.

"Isn't it amazing?"

"It is," he agreed.

"Okay, I got the score. Drake and Dahlia, you received a score of...twenty-two points! Brett and Samantha, your score was...twenty-four points! You're the winners!"

The winning couple cheered and the other clapped for them.

"Which means," Gem continued, "that Drake and Clementine must put on a fashion show modeling each others' clothes. I'm excited for this."

"Let's get more beer on the way," Brett said. "I've sobered up way too much for this."

Drake awoke when he felt Dahlia scoot out of bed. She was in between himself and Gemini, who was still sleeping peacefully. The girl quickly bolted from the room. Drake had woken up somewhere around five that morning to puke, so he couldn't now, which was unfortunate because he felt nauseous and the only way to get rid of that nausea quick was to hurl his guts out. The young man got out of bed and went into the bathroom, where his fiancée was on her knees in front of the toilet, panting for breath.

"You okay, babe?"

"Does it look like I'm okay?" she snapped.

Drake went for his toothbrush and put some toothpaste on it, then he tiredly plopped down on the edge of the bathtub. While he brushed his teeth with one hand, he gently rubbed Clementine's back with the other.

"I don't feel good," she said.

"I know," said Drake. "I'm sorry." He held her hair back for her when another round came up. After that, he went back to rubbing her back. "Can I make you something to eat? Something greasy. That'll help with the nausea."

"I could go for some nosh. I'm really craving a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit from McDonald's."

"Okay. You wanna come with?"

"No. I feel butterz and I just wanna lay down."

Drake had to search his brain to recall the meaning of "butterz" because it wasn't a word that his fiancée used often. "Babe, you're not ugly. You know I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

She gave him a smile and he helped her back to her room after he finished brushing his teeth. "Just take my wallet. Get everyone something."

"Are your keys in here?"

"Front zipper."

Drake found them. "Can I get you anything before I go? A water, medicine, a trash can?"

"That sounds good."

Drake collected the items, then passed them along. He leaned over Dahlia. "I'll be back soon." The young man kissed her forehead gently. "I love you."

"Morning," Brett grumbled as he exited his bedroom.

"Good morning," Dahlia replied as she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

A shirtless Brett disappeared into the bathroom. Clementine grabbed her glass and moved over to the couch. She leaned against an armrest and folded her legs up underneath her just as an alert came through on her phone. Well, it was Drake's phone, but he allowed her to set it up so that her phone also received his texts and Facebook messages. Whilst doing that, she had secretly made it so that the alerts were hidden on his phone from certain people that she didn't like him talking to, like Ricardo and Julio for instance. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at it.

Ricardo: hey, drake. ive been thinking alot about everything i said during that fight & i feel horrible. u know i didnt mean it, i was just upset about ur decision not to go to a psychologist and i had really gotten my hopes up about it. still that was no reason for me to act the way that i did & im willing to be the first one to admit it because i miss u & i just want to know if ur ok. i promise ill work on pulling back because i know i have to let u work out ur sobriety and ur shit on ur own. i was just trying to help & i guess like i always do i got carried away because i was so worried that something bad would happen because thats what always happens when everything seems to be going normal. anyway, can we grab lunch soon and talk? i love u & i want us to go back to being friends again. yeah so...i guess thats it.

Dahlia backed out of the message and slid it to the left, then clicked delete.

Ricardo sighed as he set his phone down. It had been just seconds after he'd sent the message that it was marked as read, yet he'd waited and waited and still didn't see the three small dots pop up to indicate that he was getting a reply.

He picked up the paper in front of himself again. It was a hospital bill dated for just a week ago: the day of the big fight. Due to some of the things listed that Drake was being charged for, it seemed as though drugs were involved and CPR was administered. Ricardo understood this to mean that Drake had probably overdosed and stopped breathing. He sniffled as he read over everything for the fiftieth time.

Ding!

Ricardo had never grabbed his phone so quickly. However, it wasn't Drake.

Dee: is tonight the night we finally stop pushing back that datenight?

He set the phone down. Ever since Drake had left, he hadn't been able to stop thinking and regretting and worrying and his relationship with Dee was being noticeably affected by it. He couldn't help it. Ricky felt so fucking down and stressed that, even when he was with Dee, he wasn't really with Dee. His boyfriend had tried to calm his fears by assuring him that Drake was probably fine. This hospital bill proved otherwise. His best friend probably couldn't handle all of the awful shit Ricky had said to him and decided to fucking end it. If Samantha hadn't have posted on Facebook a picture of herself, Drake and Brett playing some video game together several days ago, Ricardo would've immediately thought upon opening this bill that Drake had died.

Ricardo picked up his phone and opened Facebook. He had recently been blocked by both Dahlia and Drake, which she probably did for him because Drake rarely got on Facebook anyway. He was friends with both Samantha and Brett on the website. He chose to go onto Sam's page since she was the most active on social media out of the two. Sure enough, the first thing that popped up was a group of photos at what looked like Chili's. He scrolled through and noticed Samantha, Brett, Gemini, Dahlia and Drake in the pictures. The caption read: dinner and The Newlywed Game with my newly engaged besties! [ring emoji] [couple with heart emoji] [wedding emoji]

Ricardo's heart dropped into his stomach. Drake are Dahlia...are getting married?! He couldn't describe how sick he felt. He had never liked Dahlia, but he'd known that he couldn't force Drake to stop dating her because Drake wasn't a child despite what some of his actions may have you believe. Ricky had always let it go because his friend was going to do what he wanted anyway, but the two boys had been separated for a week and already he had proposed?! What kind of fucking voodoo mind spell does she have him under?! It took Dahlia less than twenty-four hours to convince Drake to refuse professional help, drop his best friends and move in with her and it took her less than a week to convince him to commit his entire life to her?! It hasn't even been three weeks since they had gotten back together and now they're married?! How on earth does she do it?! She's a straight up fucking sociopath! Already, he could see where this would lead. She is going to break Drake's heart and Drake is going to do what Drake does best when it comes to emotional anguish; he's gonna relapse. He's gonna end up on the streets selling his body for a quick high just so that he can forget about her for a short while.

The worst part was that there was nothing Ricardo could do about it. Trying to convince Drake of this would only push him away more if that was even possible at this point. All he could do was wait for everything to play out, then reconnect to help Drake pick up the pieces once again.

Just as Drake walked through the front door, Dahlia had finished up her little "project." She had created a new Facebook page under an old e-mail address that she had, but she put her name as Ricardo Santos and used the same profile picture that the actual Ricardo Santos had. She had to take extra precautions to be sure that Drake would avoid his ex best friend at all costs on the off chance that he ran into him in public. Better yet, it was probably best to keep Drake at home, which wouldn't be that hard since he wasn't much for going out like she was.

"You're back!" Clementine jumped up with a smile and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend.

"You feeling any better?" he asked.

"A little. Still pretty nauseous."

He carried the McDonald's sacks into the kitchen and set them on the table.

"Guys, Drake's here with breakfast!" Clem called.

Everyone gravitated towards the table. Despite none of them feeling all too hungry, they were desperate to stop feeling so sick. Either the greasy biscuits and hash browns would help the nausea subside or it would make them vomit, which would also end with the nausea subsiding.

"You don't work today, do you, Gem?" Drake asked.

"No, thank God. I don't think I could make it."

"I'm gonna run to the loo really quick." Clementine made her way to the bathroom, but instead of sitting on the toilet, she pulled out her phone and started typing fervently with a devious smirk on her face. She pressed send as she opened the door and heard a faint ding! on her fiancé's phone over the light chatter emanating from the kitchen. She joined the crew again and listened as if to catch up on their conversation when, really, most of her attention was on Drake.

Ricardo Santos: saw ur engagement online. Guess this means our friendship is officially over because i should've been the first person u told u fuckin asshole.

Drake's voice was filled with more sadness than Dahlia had ever heard when he whispered, "What?" No one heard it but her. Normally, he refrained from texting when he was with others, but he couldn't just drop this and come back to it later. He swiped on the phone screen to unlock his phone so that he could view the full message.

Ricardo Santos: i cant believe u actually proposed to that skank but I huess u at least have that trait in common.

Dahlia saw his eyes water over slightly and feigned innocence. "Everything alright?"

Ricardo Santos: all u evr did was go around suckin everyones dicks. Shit u even sucked mine. U 2 were meant for each other. Julio said he would've let u suck his too but he never wants to see u again so have a good life prick!

"Drake, what's wrong?" Clem asked and the table finally hushed. She took the phone from him and pretended to read. "Blimey. He's a top prat. I told you he was no good for you." She gave him his phone back and could tell that he was doing everything he could to prevent himself from crying. "Don't listen to a word that bellend says. It's pants."

The fact that so many pairs of eyes were on him was making it harder for him to keep his composure. He looked visibly pitiful, like a poor puppy dog who had been kicked and screamed at one too many times. He swallowed, but the lump in his throat only grew bigger. He couldn't stop repeating the words in his head. "Ricardo" had called him a skank and he'd ridiculed him about the sexual encounter they had both shared.

"I've gotta go to the bathroom," Drake excused absently. He left the table, went into the restroom and immediately started puking with so much force that tears stung his eyes.

"What just happened?" Samantha asked with confusion as she looked from the restroom door to Dahlia.

"Ricardo sent him a fucked up text, basically calling Drake a whore. He must've found out about the engagement and he's not happy."

"What? That doesn't sound like him," Gemini said with shock.

"I'm gonna go check on Drake." She made her way into the bathroom, where the boy was leaning over the toilet with his eyes closed, trying hard to regulate his breathing before he started hyperventilating. "Alright, babe?"

"It's just my ribs," he said, which was true although it wasn't the only reason for his tears. However, he felt like less of a man crying over emotional things rather than physical although his fiancée had seen him weep plenty of times before. Also, he couldn't bear to hear Clementine say-

"I told you, Drake. I told you he was like this and did you ever listen?"

His voice cracked when he said, "I'm sorry." He choked out a sob and hid his eyes behind his hair.

"No, you never listened. You always chose to believe him over me. Every time."

"I'm sorry," he said again, now feeling twice as sorry for himself since she was kicking him while he was down. "I shouldn't have doubted you. I just wanted to believe that..." He let go of a strangled sob and his voice trailed off. After a moment, he managed to say, "I trusted him."

"Maybe now you'll learn that I'm the only one you can trust. I'm the only one who has your back. I'm the only person in this entire world who truly loves you. I'm the only one who cares about you. I'm the only one who will accept your baggage." By saying these things, she knew that he would only depend on her more. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and turned his head so that he had to look at her. "I know what's best for you. Don't you see that now?"

He nodded, then cracked out another, "I'm so sorry. I should've listened. You're the only person left in this world who hasn't abandoned me. I know I'm a fucking mess and I'm so grateful that you haven't given up on me, too."

She pet his hair once, then leaned in and gave his forehead a kiss. "You wanna go back in there and finish breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry. I'm gonna go lay down. My chest hurts."

Clementine helped him up, then wiped his tears for him. Drake flushed the toilet, washed his hands, then started to brush his teeth.

"Can I get you anything?" the girl asked when he was finished.

"I'm okay."

She rubbed his bicep for a moment, then said. "Well, let me know if you need anything. I'm gonna finish eating."

Despite how much he wanted his fiancée's company, they went their separate ways. He closed himself in their bedroom and picked up the closest kitten in sight before laying down and pulling the covers on top of him. Macaulay purred as the boy petted her. This made Agent Jack Bauer jealous, so she jumped and planted her claws into the bed sheets, but she just hung there instead of climbing up. Drake leaned over and helped the tiny cat, then allowed them both to snuggle with him.

Drake awoke with a start when Dahlia's alarm went off. His breath hitched, causing a pain to shoot through his chest.

The girl lazily hit the snooze button, then closed her eyes again. Drake did the same when his ribs stopped giving him too much trouble. Both had dozed back off, then the blaring alarm went off again and got a similar reaction. Six times, Clem hit the snooze button. After the fourth, Drake gave up on sleeping because it wasn't worth the anxiety and pain the alarm would give him. He got up, went to the restroom, then started breakfast so that his fiancée could eat before class.

Clementine soon followed his lead. She trudged out of the bedroom tiredly, went straight to the bathroom, then sat down at the kitchen table just as Drake let go of a yawn. When the food was finished, he made her plate, then set it down in front of her as she looked down at her phone.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked.

"A soda. I need some caffeine to get me going."

Drake gave her a Coke, then sat down across from her. He didn't have anything in front of him because he wasn't hungry and he was hoping that he'd still be able to go back to sleep after she left. He noticed a big smile fill Dahlia's face and curiously asked, "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just one of my friends. By the way, I have study group tonight. We have this huge test coming up, so it'll go on pretty late. You don't have to wait up."

The remainder of breakfast was mostly silent because Dahlia stayed on her phone the entire time despite Drake keeping her company and trying to get in some quality time with her since she was going to be gone all day.

Drive boy, dog boy

Dirty numb angel boy

In the door-

Drake picked up his phone and saw that it was Rhinestone. So much for wallowing in his sadness alone. He touched the green circle and put his cell up to his ear. "Hello?"

"You bitch."

Drake wasn't offended because Rhinestone spoke to everyone this way. However, he did know that he was in trouble, so he searched his brain for what he could've done wrong. It's probably because he didn't tell him about the engagement personally. Hopefully, he wasn't as pissed as Ricardo had been.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"How come I had to find out that you're getting married on Facebook?!"

"Hey, Rhinestone?"

"What?"

"So I proposed to Clem-"

"No, no, no, it's too late, bitch."

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just pretty new and things have been kinda shit lately."

"You regret proposing?"

"No, it's not that." He wished Rhinestone would go back to being his normal narcissistic self and go on talking about himself for an hour. "Just things between me and Ricky. He found out about the engagement yesterday-"

"Wait, he found out?! You didn't tell Ricardo that you proposed?!"

"Well..."

"Drake!" Rhinestone scolded.

"I didn't think he wanted to talk to me because we had this huge fight last week."

"Really? You and Ricardo?"

"And Julio and Clem. It was...it was bad," Drake said. "I promised Clem that I wouldn't talk to them again."

"Drake Parker, I'm about to hop on a plane and come kick your ass. Why the fuck would you listen to her? They're your best friends!"

"I just feel like...they're not, though," Drake said. "I don't know how to explain it. And then Ricky sent me this rude text yesterday-"

"Because you neglected to tell him that you're getting married!" Rhinestone said with no sympathy.

"Yeah, but still. The things he said were really fucked up — like about my personal shit and insecurities."

"What exactly did he say?"

"I don't...I don't really wanna get into it right now," the boy said.

"Oh, come on, Drake! I tell you all of my shit. Even the bad stuff." This was true. Rhinestone rarely held back. He told Drake about relapsing, cheating...and you can't forget the gonorrhea story.

"I just..." He loved Rhinestone dearly, but it was still hard to trust him after the time he told everyone at the party a few years back that Drake had sucked off his gym coach for an A. He hadn't done anything nearly as vindictive since, but still, Drake was weary about opening up to him too much. Maybe he should. He could use another friend now that he had two to replace.

"When I was on the streets those two months, I started..." What's the most decent way to say this? "...doing things for people...to get money."

"What do you mean?"

God, Drake was regretting this already. He wished he could take back what he had said, but he knew that Rhinestone would continue to hound him about it until he told him. "You know. Things."

"I'm not understanding-"

"I was whoring myself out," the boy said quickly. Maybe the faster he said it, the faster Rhinestone could forget that he'd said it.

"Wait, what? Drake, you never told me-"

"I know, but can you blame me?" he asked. "It's embarrassing."

"So Ricardo brought that up?" Rhinestone was shocked.

"Yeah, that was part of it."

"Part of it? What else did he say?"

"Well, he also said something about this time..." Drake could hear Rhinestone's reaction in his head before he even got the words out. He closed his eyes as he admitted, "when we had sex."

"Wait! Wait. A damn. Minute! What?!" Although he was giggling and squealing, he said, "I'm sorry, but you and Ricardo fucked?!"

"This is why I didn't wanna tell you."

"Calm down, Drake. I'm just excited is all." Rhinestone managed to get himself under control. "Motherfucker. I knew it! Didn't I tell you, Drake? I knew that there was some part of you that loved having a penis up your ass. He did give it to you, right?"

Drake didn't even bother trying to explain because it was still a subject that he wasn't completely sure about. "Well, congratulations."

Rhinestone could tell that he was irritated. "Okay, sorry, keep going. No, wait. So he said something about that, too?"

"Yeah."

"That's insane. That really doesn't sound like him."

"I know, but it was," Drake said, "so things are just really fucked up right now."

"You moved in with Dahlia?" After the young man confirmed this, Rhinestone said, "Damn, you never tell me anything."

"Yeah, well..." Drake thought that now he could take the attention off of himself. "So what's new with you?"

"I see what you're doing — and I'm definitely gonna jump back to this because I wanna know all of the gay sex deets — but I do have this story I've been dying to tell you."

Clementine hadn't been kidding when she'd said that she would be late. It was close to one in the morning and she still wasn't back. Despite being told not to wait up, Drake was still awake and glancing out the living room window with every noise he heard that could sound like her car pulling into the driveway.

He really wanted to see her and hold her in his arms. He needed the comfort. Talking to Rhinestone had put him in a mood, then he'd gotten another vicious message from "Ricardo" that had really upset him. He'd spent a good portion of his day laying in bed, crying, talking himself out of committing suicide, watching his comfort videos, crying more, convincing himself not to relapse and then crying himself to sleep. His nap was interrupted by a nightmare that left him feeling anxious and he didn't want to be alone. Drake had put it off for as long as possible, but it was late and he had started to worry, so he'd sent Clementine a casual message asking how the study group was going. Having never received a response, he texted her again forty minutes later, this time being more direct.

Drake: comin home soon?

He curled up against the armrest with his legs folded up underneath him. He laid his head on his hand and fell asleep this way.

The low humming of a car was enough to wake an anxiously sleeping Drake. He didn't remember falling asleep. He pushed himself up and glanced out the window, where Clementine was climbing out of her car. The young man picked up his phone. Still no messages, but the time was 4:58. Moments later, Dahlia pushed open the front door and was greeted by an angry Drake.

"What the hell, Clem?" he whispered since Sam and Brett were asleep in their bedroom. "It's five a.m."

She slipped her shoes off. "I told you I'd be late."

"You didn't say you'd be out all night, though."

"We had a lot to do. We lost track of time."

"Doing what?"

She scrunched her eyebrows. "Studying, Drake. I told you this."

"Then why are all your books still here?"

She looked taken aback. "Because I forgot them. Keegan let me use his. What exactly are you insinuating, Drake?"

"It's five a.m. People don't stay out until five a.m. studying."

Dahlia scoffed. "You may never have, which doesn't surprise me due to the fact that you're sitting here on your ass while I'm out there busting mine to make something of myself! You're thick as! You couldn't even get into university if you tried! How dare you sit there and accuse me in my gaff?! You don't pay for shit! All you do is take and take and take! And now you're doing this?! Are you taking the piss?!" She wasn't nearly as quiet as he had been.

"Why didn't you answer any of my texts then?"

Clementine reached into her pocket. "Because my bloody phone died!" In her rage, she chucked it at him and it connected with his cheek so hard that it was sure to leave a bruise. "I can't fucking believe you! What kind of person do you think I am?!"

"I think you're lying," he dared meekly.

"You know what? I don't even care. You think whatever the fuck you wanna think. I'm done!" She stormed off towards her room and yelled behind her, "You fucking wanker! Just get the fuck out!"

Drake rubbed his sore cheek for a moment before deciding to follow her. However, when he reached their bedroom, he found that the door was locked.

"Clem, open the door," he said.

"Bugger off!"

"You don't wanna look at me because you know I'm right?" he spat.

"I can't believe you would even think that about me!"

"I smelled his fucking cologne the second you walked through the door!"

"Just fucking go then if you don't trust me!" Seconds later, she heard only silence on the other side of her door. She listened intently for breathing but instead heard the front door slam. He actually fucking left! Dahlia tried to pretend that it didn't bother her. She changed into pajamas quickly because she couldn't wait to get into the bed and forget about this whole ordeal. She went over to her dresser, picked up her hairbrush, then began combing angrily through her hair.

It wasn't long after that she heard her window slide open. Drake hefted himself up, turned so that he was sitting on the windowsill, then started to pull his legs through.

"Get out!" Enraged, she hurled her hairbrush at him and hit him directly on his spine.

He let go of a yelp. Already, this was quite painful enough due to his still-healing ribs. He managed to get his legs through anyway.

"You cheeky fucking cunt!" Clementine shoved him against the wall the second he turned towards her. "Get out! I said get out!"

He could smell alcohol hidden under the obnoxious cologne. "You drink during your fucking study groups, too?!" Drake asked sarcastically. He moved past her so that he wasn't pinned against the wall. "Why can't you just admit it?!"

"Because I didn't do anything! I'm out there trying to make a life for myself — for us — while you just sit around here all day! And who knows what the fuck you're doing?! How do I know you're not bringing other girls over and fucking them in my bed?! You've proved that you're a slut and a cheater! That's probably why you've been having so much trouble getting it up lately! You get your fill during the day when I'm gone!"

Drake felt embarrassed when she mentioned his recent bout of sexual inadequacy, which wasn't caused by cheating, but rather the fact that, every time he tried to get intimate, his heavy breathing or her touch or some sort of strain would put his focus on his excruciatingly painful ribs, ruining the mood completely.

"You know what?! They're probably not even women! You probably bring a bunch of seventy-year-olds here when I'm not home so they can fucking pile-drive the shit out of you!" She saw that he had no response to this. "That's it, init?! You're bloody gay! Or you just miss having your dad around to-"

"FUCK YOU!"

His audacity infuriated her, so she shoved him backwards as hard as she could. He fell against the dresser, knocking several items onto the floor and smashing his head so hard against the glass that it cracked. Before he had time to focus on the pain, she brought her hand up so fast against his cheek that the slap rang through his ears.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that!" she commanded.

Drake clutched his cheek, where three claw marks were beginning to form welts. The side of his lip was bleeding as well from the hit, but what hurt the most was his rib cage due to being shoved so hard. He blinked away his tears. "Fucking bitch," Drake sputtered with surprise.

Dahlia heard it, though, and she wasn't at all pleased. This time, she balled her hand into a fist, wound it back, then slugged him as hard as she could. Drake lost his balance and fell onto his knees.

"I want you out! I want you out of my fucking gaff!"

The young man positioned himself on his bottom and rested his back against the dresser. His eye was aching and getting darker and darker by the second. At some point, he had bitten the inside of his lip, causing another trail of blood to drip down his chin. He kept having to take in deep breaths, which put a lot of pressure on his ribs. He noisily inhaled, then squeezed his eyelids closed and clenched his teeth. He clutched his chest and struggled to take in another breath.

Suddenly: Knock! Knock! Knock! "Hey, is everything okay in there?" It was Brett.

Dahlia made her way over to the door, then unlocked and opened it. "No. I want Drake out."

"Jesus..."

Without any aid, Drake stood, then pushed his way past Brett. He went down the hall and out the front door, but this time, he didn't sneak back in. Before he knew it, he had found himself at Tad's. Luckily (but not surprisingly), Kyle was awake and he answered the door.

"Drake!" he exclaimed. "Long time no see! Where the fuck have you been?!" Kyle pulled him inside the dimly lit living room and closed the door behind him. "Oh my God! Baby, what happened to your face?!"

Finally, Drake's tears fell and he was unable to stop them.

"Oh, honey..." Kyle wrapped his arms around him, but loosened his grip when he noticed that it caused his friend pain. He allowed Drake to rest his forehead against his shoulder. "It's okay, sweetie. Just let it out. Just let it out."

"Wow, it sounds like you've been busy," Kyle said after hearing about Drake getting clean, getting engaged, then getting separated. He apologized when Drake winced as he dabbed a wet cloth against the dried blood on his lip.

"Does your girl always hit you like that?" Tad asked when he came back into the kitchen with two Tylenols. "Here." He passed them over.

Drake thanked him. "No, she's not normally like that." Despite everything, he still felt the need to cover for her, but maybe it wasn't for Dahlia's sake; maybe it was for his own.

Just like he had when it came to his father, Tad could see through this lie. "Did you come for a re-up?" the man asked. "I'm gonna have to leave soon, but I trust you enough to be here when I get off work if I spot you a few boxes."

"Give him a break," Kyle said. "He just broke up with his fiancée."

Honestly, Drake didn't know what he had come for. Charlie did sound really good right now, though. Maybe that's why he had ended up here. Subconsciously, it was for Charlie. He pulled out his phone when he received a text as he respectfully declined Tad's offer. "I just didn't have anywhere else to go."

Ricardo Santos: morning Drake. Was just thinking about how fucking fantastic life is without you around and thought I'd let you know. Pity you'll never know what that feels like. It's bliss.

"You sure?" Because of Kyle's words, Tad countered, "I'll accept quick road-head since you're so broken up." He was willing to do whatever it took to get Drake back on drugs and back in his bed because he honestly missed him.

Drake swallowed, then looked up at him, one of his eyes black and his other just fine. The fact that he was considering it was disgusting, right? It was starting to not be so clear anymore as his mind began shutting off his emotions. The only thing left was his own surprise when he heard himself meekly say, "Okay."

Kyle fetched the boxes, but Drake knew not to take them until he was finished with Tad because he would for sure vomit them up. He already felt sick just thinking about having to open the packages, taste them on his tongue and feel them clatter their way down his esophagus. Tad led the young man to his car. Drake slipped into the passenger's seat, his eyes empty of anything other than his black pupils, which seemed to swallow the rest of the color whole. Tad cranked the vehicle, but before he pulled out of the driveway, he turned his head to the boy and flashed a big, mischievous smirk. Despite it not actually being that long since he'd last seen his former student, he'd missed the hell out of him. He leaned forwards and Drake followed suit, then their lips connected. Somehow, it wasn't strange at all feeling those familiar lips pressed against his. It was like he had never left. Honestly, this wasn't really all that bad. Honestly...Tad was a better kisser than Clementine. Never would he ever admit that out loud, though. Drake shook the thought from his mind as they pulled apart. Tad grinned again, then put the car in drive and started down the road. Drake mustered up all the saliva that he could (which wasn't hard because the thought of Charlie left him salivating with nausea) as he reached over and unfastened the man's pants. Moments later, there it was right in front of him...and he still felt nothing. The boy wrapped his fingers around the shaft, leaned forwards and parted his lips.

Tad shivered with pleasure, then slowly let go of his breath. "Make sure you take your time, alright? We've got some time before we get to the school."

He'd spent the rest of that day, that night and most of that following day at the park right outside his father's neighborhood. He'd practically lived here during his recent two months of homelessness and it hardly felt like he had been away at all. Granted, it had only been about a month and a half ago, but still. He could easily pick back up where he'd left off if he wanted.

Did he want to?

He had obsessed over this thought for a long time. It would be so easy to jump back into that familiar lifestyle. The truck stop wasn't too long of a walk from here. He could probably make it in ten minutes. The weather was pretty bipolar at the moment due to the seasons changing from winter to spring, but it was the middle of March. It wouldn't be as cold outside as it always had been when he'd had nowhere else to go. Now that he thought about it, every time he'd been homeless for a long spurt of time, it was always around the chilly wintertime — somewhere between November and February. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad now.

What's the big deal about the weather anyway? He could go back to the truck stop and earn enough cash for another hotel room again, but this time far away from Dev. He knew how things worked now. Besides, the only reason he had gotten sober in the first place was because he had almost died. He'd had a moment of weakness and had agreed to let Mrs. Hayfer take him back to Ricardo's. That could've all been avoided simply by not borrowing money, which he now knew.

Tad had only given him two boxes of Triple C's, which was much appreciated, but it definitely didn't give him the best high due to his tolerance still being what it was. That had only made him crave the drug more. However, it wasn't so easy. He knew that if he made that decision, then his relationship with Clementine was truly over and he definitely didn't want that.

His brain was so quick to make up a bunch of different scenarios in every situation and he was aware of that. When she'd stayed out all night, he'd managed to convince himself that it was because she was cheating on him. The fact that she had come home reeking of alcohol and men's cologne further heightened his paranoia. Now that he had taken a step back and allowed Charlie to take over, he now could see reasons for both of those that didn't result in the idea of his fiancée sleeping with another man. And so what if she had? He was fucking in love with her and he was more than willing to forgive her. Dahlia had forgiven him for abandoning her and fucking what could easily have been a hundred strangers, and he was mad at her because of this? He was a hypocrite.

Losing Clementine not only meant that his heart would be broken, but it meant losing a piece of himself. If he traded her for a life of meaningless, transactional sexual encounters and hallucinatory trips that gradually become less and less enjoyable, he would soon lose his humanity. She was the reason he wanted to better his own life and the reason that he could see slivers of good in himself. Without her, he would become a mindless, drug-fueled zombie — always undignified, always hopeless, always lonely and always craving more.

Fuck, I've gotta get her back. He pushed himself out of his spot underneath the tree with his and Meelah's initials carved into the trunk, then he made his way through the park and towards the road. It would take a while before he reached home, but that was perfectly fine because it would give him plenty of time to figure out what on earth he could possibly say to her to make up for his childish behavior. Maybe a simple apology would suffice? That was unlikely. It was Clem after all. Maybe she'd-

"Drake?"

Oh, shit...

"Drake, hey! Come here!"

"Fuck!" he whispered to himself as he crossed the street, making his way to a gas station — a place that had once been his safe haven. When he had been sleeping at the park a month and a half ago, he had always taken the long way around so that he wouldn't run into his old pal Ahmed. His brain had been racing with so many thoughts just then that he'd forgotten.

"I thought that was you!" He took Drake's hand and shook it. "Wow, it's been years!"

To recap, the last time Drake had seen Ahmed was the night Marcellas had given him the ultimatum of robbing the man's service station or watching his family die. Ahmed, being the kind and gracious Muslim that he was, had managed to talk Drake down despite having a gun shakily pointed at his face, then he had promised not to call the police after seeing the boy's fear and guilt. He was definitely one of the better ones who had come across Drake's path.

"You haven't been by to see me!" He put his hand on Drake's back and guided him into his empty shop. He went straight over to the grill and started putting together a hot dog.

"Yeah, sorry, I just...I thought you hated me," Drake admitted.

Even long after his father's death, Drake was still covered in cuts and bruises, Ahmed noticed. "No, of course I don't. I was worried that something had happened to you. Everything turned out okay, I see."

Not at all, Drake thought, but vocally, he went with, "I'm still alive anyway."

When the store owner held out the hot dog — made just the way the young man had always made his years ago — Drake felt... He couldn't quite put a finger on what he felt. Ahmed had always given him a free hot dog every time he came in because — although Drake was quiet about it — things were obviously rough at home. Ahmed had always seen potential in him despite the fact that he was clearly a drug addict and he'd invested time in him so that Drake knew that someone cared about him.

"Oh, no, I can't-"

"Go on, boy." After Drake accepted the hot dog, Ahmed said, "I prayed for you that night. I still pray for you everyday."

"Really?" To know that he was so cared about by someone who was practically a stranger made his heart feel warm. "Wow, thanks. That's very kind of you." Guilt rose in his chest. "Um, I'm... I guess I never really got to apologize-"

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's not important."

"It is, though," Drake disagreed. "No one else would've given me the second chance that you did. I was way out of line. I deserved to go to prison, but you had mercy on me and I haven't forgotten that."

"I hope no one else got hurt that night?"

"Other than me?" A small smile appeared at the sound of his own dark joke, but it was gone just as fast as it had come. "Well, they did beat my brother up pretty badly, but my step-dad paid them off and I haven't gotten involved with them since."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Come. Sit, sit, sit." He led Drake behind the counter and motioned for him to take a seat in the computer chair in the corner.

Drake was blown away by the trust he had in him. Just a few years ago, Drake had held him up at gunpoint and now he was willingly allowing him to go behind the counter even though the boy knew exactly where his gun was.

"Here." Ahmed grabbed a bottle of water out of his mini fridge and passed it along. Again, he had to force Drake to accept it. "Take it."

"Thank you. You're so nice." He was grateful for both the food and drink because he hadn't had either since dinnertime last night. Charlie's numbness had already worn off and his appetite was growing. He drank the water first, gulping down over half the bottle before starting on his hot dog.

"My, you were thirsty," Ahmed noticed, then he set another water on the counter next to the boy. When a customer came inside to pay for gas, he took her cash and made small talk until the transaction was complete, then gave Drake his attention again. "Are you staying around here still?"

"Not quite. It's a bit of a walk."

"What brings you back?"

"I just needed to clear my head."

"What's troubling you, son?" the man asked with genuine concern.

"My fiancée and I got into an argument and I think...I think we may have broken up."

"Did she do that?" He gestured at the young man's face.

Something about Ahmed — maybe his generosity and understanding — made Drake not want to lie to him. "Yeah, but...she didn't mean to." He truly believed these words and this is what he told himself every time it happened. "Plus, I kinda deserved it."

"You did not lay your hand on her, I hope."

"No, no, nothing like that. I just accused her of something — of cheating — because I let my insecurities get the best of me. Things just didn't feel right."

"How do you mean?"

"Well...I betrayed her and did something really bad a few months ago and somehow she forgave me. It was really bad, but she took me back and I haven't been able to figure out why."

"There's nothing to figure out. Some people know how to forgive quickly."

With this, Drake met his eyes and again thought about how easily Ahmed had forgiven him and how badly things could've gone that night — for himself and for his family — had he not been merciful.

"Yeah. Well, anyway, how are you?"

"I'm doing well, thanks for asking. As you can see, business is still booming." He gestured around the empty station.

Drake cracked a real smile at this and his immediate response was to look at the floor in a shy manner.

"Why must you hide your smile? It is a wonderful gift to the world."

If Drake were being honest, he'd have to admit that he sometimes had no idea what the hell Ahmed was saying. He was full of strange words of wisdom and kindness and it seemed like he was on an entirely different level of understanding than everyone else. Nevertheless, what he had just said sounded like a compliment.

"See, there it is. There's something I never used to see too often. You mustn't hide it, dear boy. A smile can make someone's sun shine that much brighter."

Drake's eyes squinted slightly and he smiled as if Ahmed had just said something strange or suspicious. When he saw that the man was seriously just that positive and happy of a person, he felt touched to know someone like him. "I hope I'm just like you when I get older."

"What, me? I'm just a tired old man working day and night just to make ends meet. No, you have time to go out there and really become someone. You find something you love and you'll never have to work a day in your life. You don't want to be slaving away day and night just to have enough to get by like me."

"I would be satisfied with being just half the man that you are."

"That's very kind of you to say. Thank you."

"So what did you have...six-" Drake squinted his eyes in thought, "...six kids, right? Sorry, I might be remembering wrong-"

"No, no, you are correct."

"How are they? Is that one still writing songs and performing?"

"Oh, yes, but less so now that his wife gave birth again. Twins! And my youngest graduated high school last year and started college on scholarship."

"Wow, that's great," Drake said, genuinely happy for Ahmed.

The two continued going on like this until the afternoon rush hour hit and the gas station became busier. Drake thanked Ahmed for the hot dog and water from earlier.

"Don't mention it, boy. You come back and see me soon, okay?"

"I will," Drake promised and then he was out the door.

He didn't make it far before he noticed a half-smoked cigarette left on the ground. He was desperate for a smoke. Ricardo and Julio were no longer around to pay for his cigarettes and Clementine flat-out refused, so he hadn't had a cigarette in over a week. She hated that he smoked. She was one of those people that fake coughed and gave death glares if you lit up around them. As a smoker, Drake had dealt with that before, but it was different coming from her because he loved her.

However, he felt anxious having to face her after everything that had happened and then for what had taken place even after that. He went back inside, asked to borrow a lighter off of the counter, went outside to light up, set the cigarette down, then returned the lighter.

"Thanks a lot."

"Of course."

"Now I'm off to beg my girlfriend to forgive me."

Ahmed smiled. "Might I suggest some flowers?"

"That's a good idea." He thanked him again, said another goodbye, picked up his cigarette, then started home.

Dahlia scoffed when she got out of her car and saw the boy waiting on the porch steps eagerly with flowers in his hand. When he saw her approach, he stood.

"Clem-"

"Nuh-uh." She held her hand up as she passed him and climbed up the steps.

"Babe-"

"Nope." She unlocked the front door and slung it closed behind her, but Drake stopped it with his hand and followed her inside.

"I'm an asshole."

"You've got that right."

"I was way out of line and it was wrong of me to accuse you when you were right. I'm the untrustworthy one. I'm the one who has been unfaithful."

Finally, she stopped and turned around, meeting his eyes. Immediately, she could see that he was regretting something pretty big since the boy tended to wear his heart on his sleeve. "What have you done, Drake?"

He gulped, then hung his head because he couldn't look at her. "I-"

"What did you do?!" Dahlia hit his shoulder hard. She already knew what he had done the second he had averted his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, for the lump growing inside of his throat was making it hard to speak.

"What did you do?!" She hit him again, this time hard enough to push him towards the door.

"I was with this guy and-"

"A guy?! You cheat on me with a guy?! Are you fucking gay?!"

"No, I was — it was..." He couldn't even remember how it had happened. After all that time sober, why did he slip? He was getting fucking married! How could he slip?!

"Well?! Let's hear it then!"

This hit had so much anger behind it that it made him drop the flowers. He clutched his throbbing shoulder.

The young man's eyes watered over as he forced himself to admit, "I relapsed."

"Oh, that's just bloody brilliant!" Another punch, which forced him to take another step back. "How could you do this to me again?!"

"I know-"

"After everything I've done for you, you fucking cunt!"

"I know. Babe-"

"Don't you 'babe' me!"

"I fucked up. I don't know why I did it, but after I sobered up, that was it. I didn't do it again," he assured. "This is the last time, I swear."

She chuckled angrily. "That line again."

"I know. I know I say it a lot, but I mean it. I swear on my life."

"Even if I did believe you, that doesn't change the fact that you shagged some creepy old man for drugs!"

"He wasn't-" Drake realized mid-sentence that this part didn't matter as much as everything else, so his voice got quieter. "...that old."

"Really?!" The fact that he was bothering to correct her about such a trivial thing irritated her.

"He didn't fuck me. I just did oral, which I know isn't any better, but-"

"You left so you could put someone's dirty cock in your mouth?! Did you swallow his little sperm babies, too?!"

He was humiliated. "Don't say it like that."

She was pissed that he had the audacity to tell her what to do, so she hit his shoulder in the same spot again. "How am I supposed to say it?! Did he shoot his spunk into your mouth?! Did you swallow it down like you've been trudging through the desert without a drop to drink?! Did you clean him off with your tongue as if you couldn't get enough?!"

Drake kept his head down. It took everything he had to keep his tears from falling.

"HUH?!"

Punch. With this hit, he fell against the table by the front door that the residents drop mail, keys and such down on. A small glass bowl fell onto the carpet, but luckily, it didn't break. Drake remained sitting, leaving him roughly an inch or so shorter than her. He swallowed, but still, the lump in his throat was growing bigger and bigger. His voice cracked when he whispered, "I'm so ashamed."

"And rightly so! You know what you are, Drake?! You're bloody pathetic!"

"I know."

"I swear I fucking hate you!"

With those words, a tear finally escaped. "I'm really, really sorry, babe."

"My life was so great before I met you! It was simple and drama-free! Now everyday is something different and it drives me bloody mad being with a cock-up like you! I just wanna yank out my hair!"

Drake reached his hand up and wiped his eyes so that she wouldn't see a tear fall onto the carpet and know that he was crying. However, this gave it away just as well and so did his shaky voice when he said, "I'm so sorry. I can be better, I swear. I'll do better. I'll do anything you want. Please, don't leave me."

"How could you expect me to stay?!"

This time, he audibly let go of a strangled sob, then rubbed his hand through his hair. After a moment, he gripped her hands and finally met her eyes. "I'm so fucking sorry," he said, his voice cracking a couple octaves higher. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You're right. I fuck everything up and everyone hates me for it and they all leave and it's my fault. I've hurt everyone I've ever cared about and I don't deserve you. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again, but I'm begging you to stay. I know I can never make it up to you, but I'll do anything to try. I love you more than anyone and I hate myself for betraying you. My dad was right about me. I'm a worthless, cock-sucking slut. I'm a piece of shit and I'm so, so fucking sorry. Please, please, don't go."

"You know no one else in this entire world would put up with your shit, right?" Dahlia said. "And if we break up, you're gonna be alone forever."

"I know. Please, I'm really sorry."

"And you think sorry undoes everything you did?"

"Clem, please. I swear on everything that I'll never ever ever do that ever again."

"How am I supposed to trust you?"

"You can trust me." His hands moved to her cheeks as he pleaded with her. "You can trust me."

"But how?"

"Just tell me how I can prove it. I'll do anything."

Dahlia stared him down for several seconds until she could see that she had Drake so scared and anxious that he was sweating. He wore the most pitiful expression on his face, but it wasn't a guilt tactic; he was just that ashamed and terrified. If she said no, he'd be alone; if he was alone, he'd be lost. He didn't think he could handle losing anyone else. At only twenty-one years of age, he had already lost so many people: both parents, a step-parent, two siblings, a girlfriend, a kinda sorta not-so-much girlfriend and three best friends (although cutting ties with Kenzly had been more of a choice than a repercussion). Losing one more person could just as well be what it took to finally push him over the edge.

Finally, Dahlia stopped making him suffer through the anticipation. Her voice came out strict and hard. "Fine. Under three conditions."

Drake was so relieved when he heard those words that she could physically see his muscles loosen. "Anything."

"Besides the obvious 'don't cheat on me again' and 'don't relapse again,' I want you to take off the password on your phone."

Just to prove how serious he was about this, he pulled out his phone and did it immediately right in front of her.

"I also don't want you to talk to Ricardo and Julio anymore."

"I already wasn't," the young man said.

"I know, but I don't want you to start going behind my back later when you begin to feel like the fight wasn't that big of a deal. All they do is try to break us up. I'm your fiancée. I want you to be one hundred percent committed to me and only me."

"I am. I won't talk to them."

"And lastly — although I might add more later and you have to be okay with that — I don't want you leaving the house unless I'm with you," she said. "Not until I feel like I can trust you."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay. Done."

She let go of her breath, then said, "Okay."

Finally, he stood and he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight despite the pain in his chest. "God, I'm really so sorry."

"I forgive you."

He went to kiss her, but she blocked it with her hand. "Nuh-uh. I'm sure you haven't brushed your teeth since you had a dick in your mouth. We'll kiss after," she said. "And you need a shower. Your clothes are filthy. Where did you sleep last night?"

Drake avoided her question by pulling away and picking up the flowers she had knocked out of his hand. "I got you these."

She accepted them and, after closer inspection, said, "Drake! You picked these out of the neighbor's yard!"

"I didn't think you'd notice."

"You didn't think I'd notice? I was the one she yelled out for five minutes straight when your cat got out and started digging up her flowers."

He shrugged innocently. It was so adorable that it brought a smile up on her face.

"Cheeky bastard."

Dahlia sat criss-cross applesauce on her side of the bed. She had a textbook in her lap and was reading it with concentration. Drake was laying sideways on the bed so that his head was right in front of the girl. He stayed quiet, which he had been doing for roughly an hour now. He didn't mind. He was just glad to be in her presence. Being here and watching her reminded him of what he'd almost lost. He was gently sliding his fingers up and down her thigh and marveling in the way she bit her lip with concentration.

Drake — being the depressed Negative Nancy that he was — couldn't my stop thinking about what he had done now that the initial relief and excitement of being forgiven has worn off. He replayed yesterday's events over and over in his head and it still didn't make sense. Of all the places he had chosen to go after their fight, he had ended up at Tad's. Sure, he considered Kyle to be a friend, but he had other friends, too — friends that didn't live with Drake's drug supplier — like Gemini and Sawyer. Both would've comforted him sufficiently, so again, why Tad's? There was a reason for it. Either he went there to spite Clementine or he'd subconsciously known that he was going to use. Probably even a mixture of both. What he realized now was how incredibly reckless his behavior had been. Was he always like this?

He thought about how brokenhearted he would've been if his accusations had turned out to be correct. He would've been so devastated that things probably would've turned out a hundred times worse than they had. He would've lost it. He would've ended up strung out and on the streets again. Somehow, though, his fiancée had forgiven him for his betrayal. If it would've been her who had cheated, he probably would've ruined his life. However, it was himself that had cheated and here he was, allowed back in her bed as if nothing had happened. Dahlia was so forgiving and kind and he felt horrible for what he had done. He didn't deserve her mercy.

The young man's eyes watered over, but he refused to cry. The last thing Clementine should have to put up with was another one of his random and unnecessary episodes. He scooted closer and kissed her knee, which was the closest part of her body to him.

"You're so beautiful," he said quietly.

It had come out of nowhere and it made her smile. She leaned forwards and pressed her lips against his.

"I love you so much," he said again.

Dahlia could see that he was craving her attention, but was refusing to ask for it because he knew that she didn't owe him anything after what he had done. She closed her book and set it on the nightstand, then laid down next to the boy and allowed him to take her in his arms. She rested her head next to his chest and listened to his heart beating.

"Your clothes you were wearing before your shower were really dirty. You didn't stay with a friend while you were away?"

"I just wanted to be alone to clear by head," was his better way of saying that he'd slept outside.

"How are your ribs doing then? I imagine sleeping on the hard ground wasn't good for them."

"They're doing much better."

She knew that he wasn't being completely truthful because he didn't want her feeling guilty about her almost-deadly mistake. "Babe?"

His eyes were closed as he reveled in their closeness. "Yeah?"

"About me staying out until five — I wasn't studying. Well, I was. For a while," she said, "but then my mates were talking about taking a break and having some drinks to relax. That's why I was so late. We finished studying around midnight, then we went out to the club. I was gonna invite you, but my mates...well, you know..."

"They hate me."

"It's not that they hate you. They just...strongly dislike you."

Drake already knew this, but that didn't make hearing it again any less hurtful. "I don't get why. I've only hung out with them, like, twice and I wasn't too weird or too quiet or too obnoxious or anything."

"I know, babe. It's just, you know, they're going to school to be doctors. They just think on a different level and they like to discuss and debate things that you couldn't even begin to comprehend. They're in university and you...well, you never finished high school."

Drake understood. Basically, he was too dumb for them.

"Anyway, that's why you could smell alcohol and cologne on me the other morning. Keegan accidentally spilled his drink on me a little, then he let me spray some of his cologne to cover up the scent. I just didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get upset about not being invited."

"It's okay," Drake said. "I don't want you to not hang out with your friends because of me. Sam and Brett like me and that's enough. Besides, it's good that you have somewhere to take a break from me when I get annoying."

She let out a chuckle at this.

"I'm sorry I acted the way that I did. It was childish and embarrassing."

"We all have our moments," the girl said.

"I don't know what came over me. I just get so paranoid when things in my life are going okay and then I just mess it all up."

"You do that a lot, don't you?" She smiled.

"I don't know why I'm like this."

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't mess things up somehow, but you know I can't stay mad at you. You're too adorable when you know you're in trouble."

Although Drake tried against it, he grinned. "That was the most backhanded compliment-"

Dahlia laughed. "Shut up."

Backhanded compliments were the only kinds of compliments that she ever gave him, but he'd learned to love them anyway. Depending on his mood, he could shrug off and joke about the negative side or he would obsess over and sulk about it. Right now, he laughed it off.

"So I've been thinking about a date for the wedding," the girl said. "I really like July."

"Of next year?"

"No, silly."

Drake looked at her. He already felt his anxiety growing. "That's less than four months away."

"I know. I'm just ready for things to be official!" she said with excitement.

"That's...that's really soon." His lack of enthusiasm showed in his voice.

"You don't wanna marry me anymore?"

"No, of course I do. Just-"

"Just not anytime soon."

"No, I do. I'd marry you right now if I could, but I know that's not what you want. I don't wanna make the date too soon because I won't have any money. I can't even get a job until my ribs heal, which will be at least another month. I just want time to save up so I can give you the dream wedding you want. It's your special day and you deserve for it to be exactly as you pictured it when you were a kid."

"It's our special day."

"Yeah, but I'm just content with being with you. I just want you to be happy."

"That's sweet," she said. "I think I just wanted to do it fast because I didn't wanna give you time to relapse again," Dahlia admitted, "and I thought that if you had a wife to consider, then you would be better at denying those urges."

"I'll be better," Drake promised. "I'm not going anywhere." He kissed the top of her hair. "I hate that you worry about me."

"I hate that you make me worry."

"I'm sorry. I'm really trying."

"I know."

Being with Clementine was like being on an emotional roller coaster. One minute, things are great and he could see the beauty in life; the next, he's back to feeling guilty and indebted to her. Sometimes he felt as though he would never be enough for her and that spending so much time trying was a waste when she could be out there finding someone who could actually give her everything she wanted.

Dahlia pushed herself up when she heard her phone alert her of an incoming text message. She grabbed it and read as Drake rubbed her back. "Sam's asking if we've thought about supper."

"She texted you when she's, like, twenty feet away?"

"She's probably exhausted. They've been in bed all day. You know what that means."

Drake pushed himself up. "That I'm getting stuck with dinner duty again?" He planted soft kisses on the crook of her neck.

"I wish we could have a day like that — a day where we just stay in bed. No responsibilities, no social interactions with people, no clothes. Just Netflix, shags, cuddles and kips on repeat."

Drake wanted that more than anything — probably even more than she did. His last orgasm had been the night before the big fight. That was almost two weeks ago. They had tried plenty of times since, but the young man had a hard time keeping it up when all he could focus on was the pain in his chest. Sex leads to heavy breathing, which leads to immense pain. Even now, just sitting there inhaling and exhaling was uncomfortable, but at least manageable. He always tried his best to hide it because he didn't want Dahlia to feel guilty and get upset, but he was dying for a fuck, even just a quickie. It even hurt too much to masturbate. At least, it had last time he'd tried. That was about a week ago. Maybe he could get through it now. Masturbating together is kinda hot.

"I'm willing to try again," Drake said.

"No, I don't want to cause you any pain."

"Whether I do it or don't do it, either way, I'm in pain," he reasoned. "Might as well get something out of it."

She smiled at his willingness. "Maybe later. Let's figure out what we're gonna eat."

He was still kissing her neck. In between doing that, he asked, "What are you in the mood for?"

"I don't know. I hate thinking about supper."

"Is the fish still in there?"

"Yeah. That will be okay."

"I can make fries to go with them."

"But I think I want a jacket potato instead."

"Okay." Drake wrapped his arms around her from behind since he knew that they were about to separate.

"And aubergine."

"Okay." The young man gave her one last kiss on her shoulder, then got out of bed and made his way down the hall. Next to the kitchen was Sam and Brett's room. He knocked. "You guys okay with the tilapia?" he called through the door.

After a short moment, Brett said, "Yeah."

"Fries or baked potato?"

"Baked potato for me, please," said Samantha politely.

"I'll take fries."

"Hold on," the girl said. "I'll be out in a minute. I'll help you cook."

Drake went ahead and got started by pulling everything out that he needed. In the middle of doing that, he heard his phone go off. It was sitting on the counter, so while he washed his hands, he looked over at the lit up screen.

Ricardo Santos: can't believe ur too much of a pussy to respond back to me. Or are u...

Drake had to swipe to open his phone so that he could view the full message. He dried off his hands, then picked up the cell.

Ricardo Santos: ...just scared cause u know I can kick ur ass just like ur dad did? That's probably it. U were even too chicken shit to stand up for ur own gf when I called her a manipulative sociopath. How she's still w someone like u amazes me bcuz trust me ur dick isn't that special. & even much less so since half the fuckin population has gotten to play w it. can't believe I ever let u get near me with that filthy diseased thing. I'm gonna throw up just thinking about it

And as if Clementine hadn't already done enough...

Ricardo Santos: [nauseated emoji] [nauseated emoji] [vomiting emoji] [vomiting emoji]

Drake's eyes were wet as he read and reread the hateful message. Never had Ricardo ever been so pissed at him. Ricky's hit him before, but that was a long time ago when he'd first learned about Drake prostituting himself to his old gym coach. He's also raised his voice at him, but again, that was an incredibly, incredibly long time ago if you didn't count their recent fight. Even though he had done all of this, never had he ever viciously attacked his character, his actions and his body like he had been doing lately. It was so unlike him. Drake had always respected Ricardo's opinions over everybody's and now this was Ricardo's opinion of him. Well, if this proved one thing, it's that Dahlia was right all along about the kind of person Ricky truly was and how he really felt about Drake.

"Alright, I'm ready," came from behind him.

Draw quickly turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket. He wiped his eyes and sniffled to hide any evidence revealing that he'd been close to weeping.

"Hey, you okay?" Samantha asked with concern.

"Yeah, just..." He let go of his breath. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Who was that?" she asked. "On the phone?"

"No one."

"Was it Ricardo again? Did he say something?"

"Uh..." He debated on whether or not he should tell her, but he knew she already knew anyway. "Yeah, but...it's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

"Well, it is, okay?! Jesus! Can you mind your own fucking business, please?!"

Samantha was taken aback by this because he had never snapped on her before. He didn't often snap on anyone, so she was speechless.

Drake sighed. "Fuck. Shit, I'm sorry, Sam." He turned around to face her. "I'm sorry. I'm just..." Stressed? Upset? Confused? Depressed? None of these seemed like a sufficient enough excuse. "I'm sorry. I don't know...why I said that."

She shook her head. "It's okay. I was being nosy."

"You're not, though. I appreciate that you care. I...I'm an asshole."

"Well..." Samantha smiled. "Maybe a little. You can make it up to me by handling the fish because I hate touching raw meat."

Drake chuckled. "I can do that."

Samantha went over to the sink and started washing her hands. "Who all is eating baked potatoes?"

(2 weeks later)

"Oh my God! Brat!" Samantha giggled flirtatiously. "You're so annoying! Stop!"

"Well, stop hogging the popcorn."

"I haven't even pressed play yet. You're gonna eat it all before the movie starts!"

The boy pulled her against himself and wrapped his arms around her, then playfully dug his head into the crook of her neck, tickling her with his lips.

"Stop!" She laughed.

Knock! Knock!

"Come in." Brett pulled away while his girlfriend reached over and grabbed the bowl of popcorn and remote controller.

Drake opened their bedroom door. "Hey, sorry, have either of you heard from Clem by chance?" He was clearly distressed.

"No, why?" Brett asked.

The young man shook his head. "Nothing."

"Seriously, what's up?"

"It's fine. She just — she said she'd be home three hours ago and now she's not answering my texts."

This kind of thing had been happening a lot recently. Today, she had gone to an amusement park. Since her friends hated Drake, he wasn't invited. He didn't want her to go, but he also didn't want to be that guy. He was still treading a thin line with her and he didn't want to create waves. However, she was gone almost everyday. If it wasn't school, then it was study group. If not that, then she was going out with her future doctor friends while Drake was stuck at home alone. He missed her dearly. He felt like he hardly spent any time with her and everything was going wrong. He was still getting daily vicious texts from Ricardo, each one digging deeper and deeper, but he had no one to comfort him. On top of that, his depression was at an all-time high. Thoughts of relapsing or committing suicide were constantly infiltrating his brain and it was getting harder and harder to talk himself out of it. He needed her here. She didn't even have to do anything. Just her presence alone would be enough.

"They probably just lost track of time," Samantha said. "It's an amusement park after all."

"Yeah, but, shit, she's gone all the time and I never get invited to anything and I don't know why they all hate me and why I'm not good enough for her." His voice actually cracked with those last words. Embarrassed, he hung his head. He was so fucking tired of crying all the time.

"Babe! You are good enough!" Samantha got out of bed and went over to him so that she could pull him into a hug.

"I don't think she wants to marry me anymore."

"Of course she does," Brett assured. "You know what? She's probably just a little frightened about the upcoming changes that come with getting married."

"Right," Samantha agreed. "It's a huge mental shift into adulthood. Also, you're living together now and that's a big thing in itself. Seeing each other all day everyday can get annoying. Sometimes, Brett and I need time away from each other, so I'll go out and have a girls' night and he'll hang out with the boys. Like Brett said, she's probably just a little scared of getting married because, a lot of times, you lose your friends. Plus, it comes with new responsibilities."

"I guess you're right," Drake said. "I'm just so tired of being stuck in this house. I haven't been anywhere in weeks and it just gets hard to breathe sometimes. I haven't had a cigarette in forever, I can't have sex and Clem will be pissed if she finds out I've been taking the pain meds behind her back. I'm just so stressed and I feel so alone."

"You're not alone," Samantha said. "Me and Brett are always here for you."

"I know." Suddenly, Drake felt guilty. "Sorry, I don't mean to make either of you feel like you're not good enough." He knew that feeling himself all too well.

"We don't," said Brett. "We know you love us, but it's different from what you and Dahlia share. If the house was on fire — God forbid — you'd save Dahlia over us. Just like I'd save Sammy."

The girl chimed in. "Except I'm a strong, independent woman who doesn't need a man to save her."

"Well, fuck you then. You can burn."

Samantha scoffed. This exchange made Drake chuckle. God, why were they so perfect?

"Look, I'm sure she'll be home soon," Sam said. "Why don't you hang with us until then? We're about to watch Mean Girls."

"Nah, I don't wanna intrude-"

"You're not intruding."

"It's okay. Thanks for the invite, though."

Brett tossed his popcorn at him after quoting this classic line from the film: "Boo, you whore!"

"No, really, my chest is hurting. I think I'm just gonna lay down."

Brett said another line, but in a higher-pitched, bitchy kind of way. "I can't go out tonight." He fake coughed. "I'm sick."

"It sounds like you've already seen this movie one too many times," said Drake.

"I'm sorry that people are so jealous of me, but I can't help it that I'm popular."

"It's one of his favorites," Samantha explained. "Just in case it wasn't obvious."

Brett clutched his nipples. "It's like I have ESPN or something. My breasts can always tell when it's going to rain."

"Alright, I'm done with you guys."

"You can't sit with us!" the boy continued.

Drake shook his head, completely at a loss for words. Even after the door was closed behind him, he heard Brett yell at him.

"Your mom's chest hair!"

"Blimey! I'm bloody knackered!" Dahlia said with an exhale when she stepped through the front door.

Drake had been waiting for her and approached her to give her a greeting kiss, which she ended early by holding up her bag.

"Take this, will you, babe? I need to rinse."

The young man pushed away his first question, which was why she was so late, and instead asked, "How was it?"

"Oh, a blast! And it wasn't too busy, so we didn't have to stand in a lot of lines."

"That's good." After she got her shoes off, Drake tried to pull her into a hug, but she refused it.

"Not now, babe. I need a shower. I'm minging."

Drake went to the bathroom with her and sat on the toilet so that she could gush about her exciting day. Not once did she ask how he was, how his day had gone or what he had done. He didn't have anything interesting to tell her anyway. He'd moped around the bedroom, had two long depression episodes that took up the span of most of the day and cried quite a bit. He was so tired of being stuck in this house that he wanted to pull out his hair. There was nothing to do other than obsess over the thought of Dahlia hating him. This had been the ball and chain that had kept the young man tied to his bed for the past couple weeks. Almost everyday, he would lay there staring at the empty space next to him. This made him feel alone and you should never feel alone when you're getting married. He had pondered how much longer he would be on house arrest. That depended on how long it took for her to trust him again. Drake was always leery and suspicious of others and it took him a while before he actually felt like he could trust someone: weeks, months, years even sometimes. He hoped Dahlia wasn't the same.

"Babe, can you make me a cheese toasty? I want nosh, but I wanna fall into bed the second I get out of here."

"Yeah." Drake stood and headed off to the kitchen, where he began gathering the needed items. He realized that he hadn't eaten all day due to his wallowing and whining and such, so he decided to make himself a grilled cheese as well.

Soon, Dahlia had gotten out of the shower, the grilled cheeses had been eaten and the couple was in bed. Drake spooned her for a while until she told him that she wasn't comfortable, so he backed away and left her alone.

Hours went by and Drake found himself still awake. He turned his head and looked at his peacefully resting fiancée. He was losing her, he just knew it. He had to do something. He had to win back her affection.

When Clementine awoke, she found that the spot next to her was empty. On her way to the bathroom, she saw Drake in the kitchen. After relieving herself and brushing her teeth, she joined her fiancé. "Mmm, it smells scrumptious."

Drake hadn't slept and it showed. "It's almost ready."

The girl sat down at the table and started going through her phone. "Have Samantha and Brett left for church already?"

"Yeah. Just a little while ago actually."

"Pity, they're gonna miss out on this breakfast."

Soon, Drake laid a palette of food on the table. As Dahlia looked at it all, she smiled. "This is excellent, Drake."

Next, he brought two long, slender candles over and set them down in the middle of the table. He lit them, gave his fiancée a kiss, then sat down in the chair next to her.

"What's it all for?" she questioned.

"No reason. I just want you to know how much you mean to me."

"That's sweet. I've never had a romantic candlelit breakfast before."

Drake gave her a smile as he reached down and took her hand. He brought it back up and planted a soft kiss on her skin. "I love you."

"Aw, babe..." She leaned towards him and pressed their lips together, then grinned and brushed his hair out of his face. "You're too adorable."

He gave her one last gentle peck on her nose before picking up the half-gallon of orange juice and pouring some in her glass. "Shall we?" he said, allowing her to begin grabbing the food first.

"I'm stuffed." Dahlia sat back in her chair with an exhale. "That was most delightful, Drake. Thank you."

"Anything for my queen," he said. "I'll clean this up if you wanna get dressed. I was thinking we could go for a walk. It's really nice outside-"

"Oh..."

"You don't wanna do that? We could just hang here or-"

"Well...actually..." She pressed her teeth together like it was an awkward situation. "Some of my mates are supposed to come over. We've gotta cram."

Drake took a sharp breath, let it go and averted his eyes so that she couldn't see his disappointment. "Oh."

"I'm sorry. See, I was gonna quit, but you pushed me to keep going after my dream to become a doctor. Unfortunately, it takes up a lot of my time and energy." She knew that, by saying this, he could only blame himself.

"I know. I just miss you."

"You miss me? Babe, I haven't gone anywhere." On the contrary, she had been everywhere. And everywhere without him. "Perhaps another time?"

"Yeah, another time." He forced a smile despite the pit of despair he felt growing in his stomach.

She stood, hunched over, gave him a kiss, then went to fetch something to wear. Drake sat there for a moment, welcoming the dark, self-hating thoughts. He looked over everything he had cooked, desperately wishing that there had been something wrong with the food so that he could blame the fact that she was consistently distancing herself on the breakfast rather than on himself. However, everything was perfect — everything except him. Depressed and defeated, he lazily stood and began clearing the table by first blowing out the candles.

"I wish Drake would've come to church with us," Samantha said as she flipped on the blinker, then turned onto another street. "He's been really depressed lately and it doesn't help that Dahlia's always ditching him for her friends."

"I don't know if he's getting sick or just didn't sleep or what, but he didn't look too good this morning," Brett said as he absently scrolled through his phone.

"I noticed that, too," the girl said. "You don't think he's using again, do you?"

Brett sighed and thought for a moment. "I wanna say no, but I don't know enough about Triple C's to tell. I really don't think he would be gutsy enough to relapse and stay, though. Last time, he disappeared for two months because he was too ashamed to get help."

"I don't like to meddle in other people's business and all, but...do you think I should talk to Dahlia? She's completely neglecting him right now when he's most fragile and he's still getting used to sobriety again. I'm really worried about him and I don't want anything to happen."

"I don't know. You know Dahlia. She does whatever the hell she wants to do."

"I mean, we've known each other for a few years now and we've always gotten along, but... I hate to say it, but she treats Drake like shit. I constantly hear her put him down," Samantha said, "and he always sticks up for her. Remember that time when she was swamped with schoolwork and Drake offered to help and she said some rude comment about how she'd flunk the class then?"

"I remember. You and I both looked at each other — just completely shocked. I think he saw that because then he tried to stick up for her by agreeing with her."

"And that day he had that panic attack — I've never in my life seen someone be so fucking insensitive," said Sam. "I walked in there and she was just applying her make-up while he was having a meltdown on the floor. When I tried to calm him down, she kept saying a bunch of stuff that would freak him out more. And did you see those bruises? I think she hit him. I mean, I know she's hit him before despite what he says because I've seen the marks, but she hit him while he was having a panic attack and that's extra fucked up."

"I know," Brett agreed. "The other week when we heard them arguing and I finally went in there, Drake was on the floor bleeding and crying. He's got broken fucking ribs, for Christ's sake, and she's the reason for that and she's gonna treat him like that? I mean, yeah, he accused her of cheating, but still. Hitting him was so uncalled for." There was a pause, then he added, "And to be honest, I do think she's cheating on him."

"You do?"

"I don't know what excuse she gave him, but it must've been a damn good one because I heard Drake say she came in smelling like alcohol and cologne. Plus, she's always gone and shows back up way later than she says she will," the boy said. "You think Dahlia's telling the truth?"

"I don't know. I hope she is, but it was like she became some different person after she met Drake. Or, I don't know, I think she's like this anytime she's with a guy, but Drake's the only one who lets her do it because of his past. She walks all over him and he's so in love with her that he's too scared to say anything."

She turned the car onto the street that they lived on. Without a word, they both knew to end the conversation here and chat about something else.

"I'm so ready to get out of these heels."

Still not looking up from his phone, Brett said, "Why didn't you wear your tennis shoes? Aren't those too small?"

"Yeah, but I had an excuse to dress up today and these are my only heels."

"You can change into something more comfortable when we get home and then we can go to the thrift store later to see if we can find you some new ones." He wasn't being cheap; it was actually his girlfriend who preferred the excitement of finding bargains. "Maybe see if Drake and Dahlia wanna go. I know Drake's dying to get out of the house."

"That sounds like fun! Now that I think about it, we haven't all gone out since their anniversary dinner."

Soon they were back home. The second they were inside, Samantha removed her heels and allowed her feet to breathe with relief. Dahlia and Drake were sitting together on the couch watching Teen Mom (her choice).

"Hey, guys," Samantha greeted.

"Hey," Dahlia said kindly while the boy offered a smile. "How was the service?"

"It was great," she said. "Brat and I were gonna hit some thrift stores. Did you guys wanna come?"

"My mates are coming to study in an hour."

The couple then looked at Drake. Clementine, too, looked at Drake and, with that look, he knew his answer.

"I think I'm just gonna hang back here. Thanks, though."

"Well, okay," Samantha said sadly. "I'm gonna go change, babe."

Samantha went to her room, Drake to his when he heard his phone ring, and Brett to the kitchen to make himself and his girlfriend a quick little something before their shopping trip. When he was finished, he carried one of his sandwiches with him down the hall and into the room that the other couple shared. When he opened the door, Drake was no longer on the phone. Instead, he was just pacing as if he had been expecting Brett to come in.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Drake brushed off quickly. "Sawyer was asking me for the name of this movie on Netflix I told him he should watch."

"Oh." Brett pulled a small box out of his pocket, then tossed it to the boy, who caught it.

"How much was it?" It was an over-the-counter version of Viagra. His breakfast hadn't been good enough at attracting Dahlia's attention, so Drake was going to give her what he knew she wanted: sex. No matter how fucking painful it was, he was gonna get her off.

"Don't worry about it."

"I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"It's fine," Brett said, biting his sandwich.

"Seriously, I owe you." Drake hid the box under his side of the mattress so that Dahlia wouldn't find it. "I'm sorry I asked you to do this. I'm so embarrassed and I wasn't even the one who had to approach a cashier with it."

"Hey, no one's perfect when it comes to sex...as our ladies were so quick to point out during that Newlywed Game."

This made Drake crack a grin out of one side of his mouth, which he shyly hid by looking down at the floor. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks for doing this. The last few weeks have just been...kinda rough. I know you probably didn't wanna hear about all of my personal intimacy issues earlier."

"No, it's cool, bro. I'm always willing to listen to anything that's on your mind, as I'm sure you'd do for me."

"Always."

"Okay, I'm ready." Samantha peered around the door frame. "Brett, was that my sandwich on the counter in there?"

"Yeah."

She then moved her full body into the door frame to reveal that she was already holding the sandwich. "Good, because I already ate half of it."

"I guess we're gonna head out. You sure you don't wanna come?" Brett asked.

"Oh, no, thanks. Have fun, though."

Drake's eyes sparkled and a small smile played on his lips when he swiped to the next photo in one of his private albums on Facebook. It was of Meelah and was taken after Drake had gotten out of the hospital and recovered that first time his father had put him in there. The young man had been pushing her in one of the swings at their favorite abandoned park and, when she had reached her highest point, she'd snapped a quick selfie of herself, with Drake in the background. Her smile was so vibrant and contagious that he even let go of a quiet chuckle, then a sniffle. He stared at the photo for a minute, reliving that special moment in his mind. He could remember how perfect the weather had been that day. Summer was nearing its end and autumn was approaching. Therefore, it hadn't been too hot and it hadn't been too cold. She looked so happy. He looked so happy. You'd never be able to tell that inside both of them lived a raging addict clawing to get out. Meelah had died just days after this photo was taken.

He swiped and was met by a picture of them at the Bob Dylan concert, where they had met. It was taken from behind and had a bit of a distance. Julio must've taken it. The sun had been setting, so it was just Drake's and Meelah's silhouette against the orange and pink sky. That was the first time he had taken Triple C's and they had made him incredibly sick. Despite all of that, it was one of the greatest days of his life.

Next was another snapshot of the couple, taken through a reflection in a mirror. Here, Meelah wore one of the boy's band shirts and some light pink panties. Drake was behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist as he nibbled at her earlobe.

*FLASHBACK*

"Stop," Meelah giggled. "Look! You made my picture blurry!"

"It kinda fits the mood, though, doesn't it?" He was referring to their Triple C high, which would blur their vision anyway. "It gives it that extra bit of special."

She was into photography, but only as an amateur hobby, and what Drake had said made a lot of sense to her — probably because she was a little bit high. "You feel it yet?"

"Getting there. You?"

She only smiled, then pushed him back onto the bed. As he sat on the edge, she straddled him and pressed her numb, tingling lips against his. "I love you," she said when she pulled away.

"I love you."

She brushed her hand through his bangs. "Come paint with me."

Before she could get up, Drake flipped her onto her back and got on top of her. Meelah giggled as he buried his face into the crook of her neck and softly kissed her skin. Breathe Carolina's "Edge Of Heaven" began playing in the background.

I can't hold back
My hands won't let me
It's the touch of your skin
Is it lust or envy?
Is it lust or envy?

This was the song. This was the ultimate Charlie song. During your high, you can feel this song physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally. Most songs only give you one of these reactions and are nowhere near as intense as this song is when you're high on Triple C's. It's like you're living and breathing this one song. It's like you can actually feel each note vibrating and pulsating through your body. It's like an orgasm for your ears, for your mind and for your soul.

Meelah placed her palms on either side of the boy's head and lifted it. Already, she missed the feeling of his lips on her skin. "You wanna take another box? Get really fucked up?"

Drake stood, held out his hand, then pulled her onto her feet. She went over to her purse and grabbed out two more boxes, then tossed one to her boyfriend. They both picked up a pair of scissors from the nightstand (she had two for moments such as these) and they started cutting open the tiny red pills.

I can't hold back
My pride won't let me
I'm seeing red
This is all too deadly
This is all too deadly

Within the next thirty or so minutes, both were tripping pretty hard. They were cuddling on the bed, enjoying each other's company. They spoke quietly over the music so that Meelah's parents wouldn't catch a sixteen-year-old boy in their seventeen-year-old daughter's room. It was hard to hear one another's distant, fading voice due to the Triple C's, but being high together could make it easy to read the other's mind, so they weren't missing much. Both spoke about deep, intense secrets. Drake was always free to talk about any physical and sexual abuse (the latter being new to him at this time) and how it was confusing him and he was comforted knowing that Meelah would never judge him and would never tell anyone without his permission. He trusted her with everything.

In the middle of her talking, Meelah lifted her hand up towards the ceiling as if she were reaching out for something. Drake wondered if she was hallucinating the same thing that he was. Probably not. He was stuck in a time portal that shot him into the past so that he could watch Oasis perform live.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said suddenly.

Drake looked at her, then gave her a kiss on the cheek as he pulled her even closer to him. "You're beautiful," he whispered into her ear.

Fallout, one more taste
One last time
I just can't help it
Fallout, I need it all
Hangin' from the edge of heaven
All seven, all seven
Fallout, I need it all
Hangin' from the edge of heaven

*END FLASHBACK*

"The fuck is this then?!" came Clementine's voice from behind him.

"Nothing."

Drake quickly clicked to shut off his phone and he started to put it away as he turned to her. She managed to grab it away from him and she slid the phone to unlock it. Since he'd removed the password due to one of her ultimatums, it opened right up and was still on the page that he'd left off on.

"What the fuck?!" she screamed as she scrolled through the album. "Why were you looking at pictures of your ex?! And ones where you're half-dressed and snogging with her?!"

"It's not what it looks like-"

"What, were you getting ready to jerk off to it?! Is that why you can't get it up with me?!"

"No!" Drake said with embarrassment. "No, I was just-"

"Just what?! I just forgave you for cheating on me and now you're doing this?! You're supposed to be committed to me and only me!"

"I am! I swear!"

"This doesn't look like it!" She held up his phone, which now displayed a photo of himself kissing Meelah. It was obvious by the way the corners of his lips were turned up in the picture that he was laughing joyfully as he did so.

Drake didn't know how to respond to that. Now he could kind of understand why she was so angry, but Meelah was the first person he had ever loved and he would never not feel that way towards her. It didn't mean he loved Dahlia any less.

"I can't believe you. And it's a private album?!" she noticed. "You were trying to keep it from me!"

"I wasn't."

"Then why have you never showed me?!"

"Because it's in the past."

"Well, clearly, it's not! You're still bloody gawking over them, you fucking knobhead!"

"Baby-" Drake tried as he stepped closer.

She shoved him back enough to make him stumble over his feet, but he caught himself. "Don't you fucking 'baby' me!"

The young man felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest, but he tried to hide it. Unfortunately, his eyes watered over.

"Lousy sod! Why is it so hard for you to stay faithful?!"

"It really wasn't like that-"

"Oh, don't mug me! That's pants and you know it!" she spat. "Otherwise, why would you be acting so dodgy when I caught you?! Look at you! You've got collywobbles, don't you!?"

"Let me just explai-"

"You can go ahead and try! I'll be deleting these photos in the meantime! I swear down-"

"Don't!"

"-Drake, if you do something like this again, we're done! Big man ting!"

"Don't! Clem, don't, okay?! I'm sorry!" He was crying now when he thought about all of his and Meelah's photos being gone forever. Without them, he'd slowly start to forget about her. It was already hard enough sometimes to remember her voice and he might've forgotten had it not been for the video she took of them hiking through some woods to reach the waterfalls at High Falls.

Clementine shoved his hand away when he tried to take his phone back. She quickly pressed the button to edit the album, clicked delete, then confirmed it. In a second, every single picture of Meelah disappeared. She tossed his phone onto the bed. "They're gone," she announced and, in one swift, sudden motion, she brought her hand up and smacked him as hard as she could.

Drake tried to blink away the tears as he kept his head low and clutched his stinging cheek. The hit was so forceful that he could feel his brain dragging him back into those old memories of being back at his father's house. Those familiar feelings of always doing something wrong no matter how hard he tried were coming back up. Despite everything he had done for Clementine, he still came up short. He still wasn't good enough. What was the point in even trying anymore? Everyone hated him. Nothing he did could change that. Why was he bothering with her anymore? Why was he bothering with anyone anymore? He just needed to fucking end it.

Ding dong!

"That's my mates," Clementine said as she went over to her desk and gathered up some books. "Try to keep your fucking dick in your pants, will ya? Or is that gonna be too hard? Better yet, maybe you should just stay in here until they're gone, yeah?" As she was leaving, she mumbled the words, "I'm engaged to a bloody sket," under her breath.

When she was gone, Drake sniffled. Although Dahlia's words had sounded like a suggestion, he knew that there would be even more hell to pay if he didn't do what she wanted. It was like he was a thirteen-year-old again and was grounded and stuck in his room. Already, he had felt claustrophobic because he'd been unable to leave the house for the past couple weeks. Now his cage was even smaller. Sure, it was just for a few hours, but still. It was already getting harder to breathe. It felt tinier than the closet his dad used to lock him in and the walls continued to grow even smaller. He curled up in the bed and lifted the comforter over his head as an attempt to hide from the world. Although he tried to get control of himself, he failed and he was back at his dad's.

*FLASHBACK*

"Megan, you play out here for a few minutes, okay, sweetie? I'm gonna get Drake ready to go to his friend's."

The thirteen-year-old's bicep was grabbed roughly and he was yanked towards the front door. Martin was moving briskly, so Drake was struggling to keep up due to how much smaller his legs were. His father held his arm up so high as he dragged him that the boy was almost lifted off the ground. He shoved the front door open and then closed it behind them.

Once inside, Drake tried begging. "Please, Daddy, don't lock me in there this time! I'll be a good boy!" He was already crying.

"Shut up!" the man hissed.

"Please, Daddy-"

"Shut the fuck up!" he commanded, violently jerking his son's arm to cause the boy pain.

The child tripped over his own feet at the speed that they were walking, but Martin caught him and yanked him back up. "Ow!"

"Shut your fucking mouth and stop whining, stupid little shit!"

Drake's sobbing got harder as he was pulled into his father's bedroom, then the bathroom. "Daddy..." he choked.

"Get in there. GET IN THERE!"

"Ahh!" he yelled when he was slung into the small closet, then again when the door was slammed on his foot. "Aahhh!"

Mr. Parker kicked him so that he'd pull his leg inside, then he shut the door.

"Daddy, please," the boy choked as he heard the lock clicking into place on the opposite side of the door.

"Shut up!"

He didn't understand. When Megan called him 'Daddy,' he did everything for her. It was like some magic word, but unfortunately, it only worked for her.

"Please, I'll stay outside the whole weekend. You won't have to see me until it's time to go back home."

"I said SHUT UP!" He banged his palm on the door, which made the boy flinch.

Despite knowing that this meant Mr. Parker was ready to get physical, Drake was desperate. "Dad..." he choked, resting his forehead on the door. When he heard the man unlocking the padlock, his ears perked up. Although he had begged to be released, he knew that that's not why his father was opening the door. "No. No, please! No!"

Martin was in front of him again. Although Drake tried pressing himself against the corner, the man still grabbed him with ease. He yanked him out of the closet, then shoved him towards his bedroom. "You wanna go outside?"

"Yes, please," the child said. He was actually surprised that he was being given the option. Staying outside wasn't so bad. Even if it rained, it would be better than this.

"Alright then. Go out back and pick out a switch, then you bring it back to me."

His heart fell into his stomach. "No, please."

Mr. Parker backhanded him so hard that he fell onto his bottom. He looked down at his son, who gazed up at him fearfully. "GO! OUTSIDE! AND BRING ME! A GODDAMN SWITCH!" He kicked the boy towards the door to get him started.

Drake pushed himself out of the floor and ran out of the bathroom. Martin followed behind him. The boy was already in the back yard by the time he made it.

"Nuh-uh. You better find a good one. You don't want me to come out there and pick one myself, do you?"

The child looked absolutely pitiful when he trudged up the porch steps with a switch his father approved of. He was already sobbing so much that he could hardly breathe and snot dripped out of both of his nostrils. "Please, sir. I'm sorry I disobeyed," he tried as he was led back into the man's bathroom.

"Take them off."

Drake knew the drill. He turned around towards the bathtub, then he pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, revealing scars that were still present from last week's lashing. Martin didn't hesitate. Within nanoseconds, he went in on him, whooping him with the thin stick. The child howled and hollered. Just moments before each hit, he could hear the whistle of wind. He was hit all over his bottom and down the backs of both legs. Welts grew on top of other welts and he couldn't think about anything but the pain.

"Stop it! Please!" he begged through his tears. The boy moved his hands back there to cover himself from anymore whippings.

This infuriated the man, so he shoved him forwards, forcing Drake to fall. His front half landed inside of the empty tub while his legs were on the outside. His bottom was high in the air so that it was easier for the switch to make direct contact. To ensure that the boy couldn't get up, Martin put one foot inside the tub and pressed it against the top of his son's spine.

"You're breaking my back!" the boy squealed with pain as he squeezed his eyes closed. His dad's foot pressing down on him, squishing him against the tub, also made it hard for him to breathe.

Another full minute went by before Martin had broken the switch in half. He yanked the child up, then tossed him onto the tiled floor. Drake was bawling and he was bleeding all down his bottom and his legs. He trembled as he lay helplessly at the feet of the raging man.

"Get in there."

He started to drag himself across the floor, but when he went to bend his knees so that he could crawl, this stretched his skin, which was covered in cuts and welts. "I can't move," he cried fearfully.

"YOU GET IN THERE OR YOU GO PICK ME OUT A FUCKING BELT!"

Drake screamed at the excruciating pain it caused to obey the demand. He knew that he wouldn't be able to sit on his bottom — not for a few days at least. He got on his knees and hunched over so that he could get under the low-hanging shelf. He was curled up like a turtle and he knew that, once his father closed that door, this would be the position he was to stay in for the next two days. Imagine the closet's dimensions. It was about two and a half feet in height that he had underneath the shelf. The length was about the same and the depth was only about two feet between the door and the back wall. Once you were locked in, there was no moving.

"And if you piss in that floor one more time, I'm gonna bash your fucking brains in! I had to remove the fucking carpet because of you!"

Drake had noticed this immediately. He was resting on hard, rough plywood and he was sure he had a splinter in his already aching knee. Martin gave him one last kick to the ribs and called him an insubordinate piece of shit before slamming the door, leaving him in complete darkness again.

*END FLASHBACK*

Drake awoke from his dreadful sleep paralysis when he heard Dahlia loudly drop her books onto her desk. His eyes shot open and he gasped, then quickly got out of bed to ensure that he wouldn't fall asleep and get stuck in the terrifying hallucination again.

"What's wrong with you?" the girl asked, but she didn't actually sound like she cared.

"Sleep paralysis," he said brushing it off as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Again? Isn't that the third time this week?"

Fifth, but close enough. "Yeah." His eyes were burning and he was dying to go back to sleep, but he knew he couldn't. Instead, he sat down on the foot of the bed lazily. "Are you done studying?"

"Yeah," she said passively. "Have you seen my ID? They wanted me to go out with them tonight."

"Again?" Drake couldn't hide his sadness.

"The fuck do you care anyway? Why don't you just go find some photographs of you and another one of your exes? What about that blonde slag Kenzly? That will keep you company."

"Babe, I'm really sorry. I should've told you that I had those pictures, but I wasn't getting off looking at them or anything. I just miss her sometimes."

"Like that's any better?"

"You're right. It's not." Drake stood and made his way over to her, pulling her away from the drawer that she was searching through. "I'm an idiot and I wasn't thinking about how I was hurting you. The pictures are gone now, though, and I'll never do it again." He wasn't as okay with this as he let on. In fact, he was still devastated. "You're the only one I have eyes for."

"Well, I guess I...maybe shouldn't have...hit you," she said, allowing him to take her in his arms. The second she had hit him, she'd seen where his mind had gone. She'd been too angry at the time to care, but after calming down, she actually felt guilty.

"It's okay. I deserved it," he said. "Why don't you stay home today? I can make you a nice dinner. We can cuddle on the couch and watch a movie and then have hot make-up sex."

At this, she pulled away from his chest and looked up at him. "No, I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm ready," Drake assured.

Her lips slowly turned up into a grin. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Well, what the fuck are we waiting for?" She shoved him backwards hard and he landed on the bed.

Although this hurt, he didn't mention it. "Well, uh, shouldn't you, you know...get rid of them?"

"Oh, yeah! Blimey, I forgot them already."

Dahlia went into the living room to send her friends away. The second she was out the door, Drake bolted over to the box of male enhancement pills. He took one, then he went over to his fiancée's nightstand and pulled out the handcuffs and blindfold. He knew that she might be in the mood to play rough, which she tended to do after make-up sex. This was not okay. At least, not this time. Therefore, he was going to switch it up and be rough on her, which she still enjoyed, just not as much as being the dominant partner.

When she came back, they started making out, then touching. She was actually very considerate of his rib cage and was very gentle around those spots. Drake spent so long on foreplay (stalling so that the pill could kick in) that she was begging for him to shag her. He cuffed her to the headboard and blindfolded her, then gave her cunnilingus to get her as close to orgasming as possible. His deep breathing caused his chest a lot of pain, but he pushed through it.

He didn't allow her to orgasm yet. He climbed on top of her and continued roughing her up by pulling her hair and biting her soft skin. After he started thrusting into her, he wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed.

Drake was aroused, but he had to admit that he honestly wasn't in the mood much at all. His ribs were killing him so much that he was weeping silently. This is exactly why he had blindfolded her. He wasn't going to stop this time. He was going to do whatever it took to please her. Maybe then she'll stop leaving him alone.

At one point, the pain forced a noise to leave his throat. He quickly caught it and played it off as a moan. How much longer until she got off? He just wanted this to be over. After finishing her, then he could focus on himself. Several pumps later, his mind changed. He was just going to get himself to ejaculate and finish her off orally. However, she soon beat him to the punch.

Frustrated with his own lack of results, he flipped her over, got her on her knees and went in that way after lubing up. They didn't do anal nearly as much, so she was a bit tighter back here. He gave her some demand about not making any noises and forced her to bite down on the pillow to muffle the sounds leaving her. He honestly couldn't remember what all he'd said. It was all just a bunch of bullshit to keep her satisfied until he could get off. Anytime she broke this rule, he "punished" her by spanking her, which made her cringe with pleasure.

What surprised him was when she began having her second orgasm. This was getting embarrassing. Tears continued dripping down his face as the pain in his chest grew and grew. Finally, he got an idea. He yanked her hair, forcing her to lift her head off of her pillow. He instructed her to talk dirty to him and this actually helped immensely — so much so, in fact, that he finally came.

Drake told her that he was going to clean himself off and he said he didn't want her to move out of the position she was in until he said she could. Honestly, he didn't really care. He just needed to get himself to stop crying before he took off her blindfold. She'd play along, though, thinking it was still part of their BDSM session. He also commanded her to stay quiet until his return and he gave her another hard spanking so she could have a taste of what would happen if she broke the rules or whatever the hell. Blah, blah, blah. He didn't care. He wiped himself off, slipped on his boxers, silently grabbed his pain pills, then went into the bathroom.

Once there, he went ahead and got in the shower to cover the sound of his crying. Never in his life had he cried during sex before (Martin and Tad not included). He felt pathetic. He had a whole meltdown, which caused more pain. Thankfully, the pain meds started kicking in. He was probably in the bathroom for thirty minutes or so, then he tossed his clothes in the laundry room and went for some water. Curious as to what Clementine was up to, he went back to their bedroom and found her in the same place he'd left her.

Shit! Drake had been so wrapped up in himself that he'd somehow managed to forget about her.

"Can I talk now?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah." He made his way over to her and grabbed the key for the cuffs.

"Oh my God. That was the best shag I've had in months. Where have you been hiding this Drake? I fancy him." She got out of the bed, still fully nude, and wrapped her arms around him. "That was so fucking hot! I had a fucking anal orgasm! I read about those in a magazine, but I didn't even think that they were actually real!"

Drake kissed her forehead, relieved that she wasn't pissed that he'd left her there for so long.

"I know I like to take control in the bedroom, but you should do it more often because that..." She shook her head, her eyes showing just how baffled she was. "You lasted so long. This was what you had me waiting weeks for? It was so bloody worth it."

He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky. He felt like he'd won her back finally. "Why don't you get cleaned up? I'll get dinner ready."

"You're the dog's bollocks. That's what you are."

He smiled. "You pick the movie. I'll watch whatever you want to. What are you in the mood to eat?"

An hour later, Drake and Dahlia were snuggled up together on the couch eating dinner and watching some girly chick flick that the young man wasn't into. He didn't care. He turned his head towards her and watched her in complete adoration. When she felt him staring, she looked his way.

"What?" she asked, paranoid that she had something in her teeth.

Instead, he just said, "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," she said, then she gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Drake was already awake when Dahlia awoke. His back was to her and he said nothing, so she assumed that he was still sleeping and quietly left the bedroom. She made her way to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet to pee. While she did this, she yawned, then pulled out her phone.

Back in the bedroom, Drake stared absently at the wall. He'd actually been doing this since he had woken up roughly an hour and a half ago. Today was one of those days where it would take a miracle to get out of bed.

Ding!

It took a full minute for the young man to muster up enough energy to lift his hand and pick up his phone. He instantly regretted it.

Ricardo Santos: was just thinkin bout that night we fucked & couldn't stop staring at all those ugly fucking scars on ur back. I used to feel srry for u and pity u but now am realizing u prob deserved it. U never do anything right. Just think about the not as good as u think u r. Ur ex mila used to laugh at u behind ur back, said she had to fake orgasms with u almost every time because she didn't wanna make u feel bad. She was only with U because she felt bad about all that stuff with ur dad and all. That's why she was always taking those pills. She had to be fucked up just to stand bein with u. she told me she didnt really evr love u but felt too guilty to tell u. then u fuckin killed her. U deserve everything ur dad ever did & honestly u deserve to still be there with him after all the pain u've caused. Im so fuckin glad i dont hav to see ur face evry fuckin day anymore. Ps: after fucking the bf I realized just how incredibly SHIT u r in bed.

Drake put the phone down, his heart feeling heavy. He pulled the comforter to his neck and laid there as a single tear silently rolled down the side of his face.

Roughly twenty minutes later, Dahlia went to her bedroom. "You're awake," she said when she noticed how he was breathing. She knew he'd be really upset about the text message, but she also knew that what she'd said would motivate him to fuck the shit out of her later on when he got over the initial depression. She had made him feel like he had something to prove, which had been her goal all along. On top of that, she had some new things she wanted to try out that she knew her fiancé was completely against and she hoped this would change his mind. "You hungry?"

The young man squeezed his eyes closed and prayed that he could say this word without making it obvious he was crying. "No."

N was the hardest letter to pronounce when your nose is stopped up, so obviously, she picked up on it. "Babe, are you crying?" she asked innocently.

"I'm fine." Another fucking N. He needed to choose his words more carefully.

"Babe..." She got on her knees behind him and brushed his hair to the side. "What's happened?"

"Nothing." Seriously? Since it was already obvious, he went ahead and sniffled up his snot. "I'm okay."

"Did you have a bad dream?"

"Yeah," he lied. Well, actually it wasn't a full lie. His entire life was a bad fucking dream.

"Oh," she pouted.

"I'll be okay," he assured despite the fact that his voice said otherwise.

"Well, okay." She was going to leave him here; he could tell. "You sure?" she asked.

"I'm sure." Please, don't go.

"You want me to lay with you a while?"

Yes, please. "If you want."

"Well, I'm actually kinda hungry. I was gonna make some nosh."

I need you to stay, please. "Okay. I'll be fine. You know I get like this all the time and I just have to let it run its course," he said, diminishing his feelings for her sake. He had a habit of doing that. "I'll be up in a little while."

"Well, if you're sure..."

I'm begging you not to leave. "I'm sure." To prove it, he gave her a kiss when she leaned closer.

"Okay, well, let me know if you want anything."

With that, she got up and left the room. The second she was gone, Drake broke down. He pulled his knees up closer to his body and hid his face in his arms as he reached around to pull at his own hair in hopes that the physical pain could take his mind off of the emotional turmoil he was currently feeling.

Clementine checked on Drake three other times that day, but still, he refused to get out of bed. She was beginning to think that she had gone a bit overboard with the text and she hoped it didn't ruin the hot night she had planned.

"He's not eating dinner?" Samantha asked sadly when she saw her roommate enter the kitchen alone.

Dahlia shook her head.

"Are you sure this was all caused by a nightmare?"

"You know how emotional he gets about that kind of thing." She shrugged.

"Maybe you should eat in there and try to get him into a show?"

"He said he wanted to be alone." This wasn't true. She was just tired of dealing with someone who was sad all the time. It was a downer and she refused to allow it to affect her mood.

"Oh, damn," Brett said to himself as he looked through Facebook on his phone.

"What?" Samantha asked.

"I used to go to school with this guy. Drake's ex Meelah was his younger sister. He posted this whole status. I think today would've been her twenty-third birthday."

"Oh, no." Samantha frowned sorrowfully. "That's why he's been so down lately. He's probably been thinking about this for weeks." She felt bad for him. That's probably why he got so upset about Dahlia being gone all the time. She couldn't imagine having to go through that alone. "Maybe you should try talking to him again."

Dahlia made her way to her bedroom, but it wasn't to give him comfort. "It's your ex girlfriend's birthday. That's why you've been moping around?"

He knew he was in trouble when he heard her tone and he was honestly not in the mood, so he denied it. "No."

"Yes, it is. Brett saw it on Facebook."

"I mean, it is her birthday, but that's not why I've been so depressed."

"That's rubbish."

"I didn't even remember it was her birthday." This was completely untrue and she was actually spot on about why he had been so down these past few weeks.

"You're such a liar."

For the first time that day, he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Babe-"

"It's like, no matter what I do, I'm never enough for you, Drake. I'm so tired of having to compete with other people or with drugs for your attention."

"No, babe, you are enough." His heart fell into his stomach when he saw a tear fall down her face. He got out of bed and immediately wrapped his arms around her tightly. "You are enough. Please, don't cry." He was crying, too, but he did so silently because it was Clementine's turn to have a breakdown.

"Then why doesn't it feel like it?"

He. Felt. Horrible. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way. You mean everything to me. I'd rather die than be apart from you."

"Then why am I always your second choice?" she asked again.

Drake actually stayed silent for a few moments. His bottom lip quivered and it took everything in him not to let go of a sob. When he was able to speak clearly, he said, "You're right. I've been neglecting you and I've been a horrible fiancé. All I do is wallow in my own sadness and it's not fair to expect you to save me every time. I've been so selfish-" His voice cracked, but he quickly fixed it, "-and I'm so sorry. That's gonna change. I promise."

"It's just that I had no class or study group or anything today and you chose to spend all day in bed when we could've been together."

"I'm sorry," he said guiltily. Then he pulled back and wiped away the wetness from his eyes. "No more crying. See? I've spent enough time putting my own feelings first. The rest of the day is about you."

She smiled up at him and, in an instant, her tears were gone. "Why don't you come eat with us?"

"Okay." He looked in the mirror and sniffled as he wiped his face off more. However, he had been crying all day. It was going to be obvious and there was no way that he could hide it.

"And then after, maybe you could show me just how much you love me."

He immediately picked up on the sexual undertones. "Yes, m'lady." He lifted her chin, then pressed his lips against hers. "Whatever you want."

Just like she had hoped, her plan had worked and the insulting text message did make Drake feel like he had something to prove. In secret, he had popped two of the knockoff Viagra pills and the couple had fucked all night long. Dahlia had orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. In between each one, they cuddled and made out. The sheets were soaked through with sweat. They did a bunch of different fantasies. Dahlia's requests had started off innocent, then they had gradually turned towards things she knew the boy didn't like. She started asking him to role play some of the different sexual encounters he'd had on the streets, which he absolutely hated reliving. One thing he felt most ashamed of was when she pulled out a thick, veiny, twelve-inch strap-on dildo, which he didn't even know she owned. She had him pretend he was begging for cash while she pretended to be one of the many truck drivers he'd blown. She even went so far as to give him an actual ten dollar bill before pushing down her pants and watching him suck on the dildo.

After that, she finally opened up and told him about something she had always wanted to try. She wanted to play out a rape fantasy, which she had never told him she was into before. He probably should've assumed that after all of the bondage and torture she was into. He'd performed a rape role play only one other time in his life and that was with Molly. If he got through it with her, he was pretty sure he could get through it with the love of his life. However, he was not too enthused when he learned that he was supposed to be the victim and that she was going to peg him with a twelve-inch cock. Dahlia had tied him up and had him fight against the restraints and beg her like he used to beg his dad. She was impressed when he was able to elicit tears. Unbeknownst to her, they were real. Luckily, this was their last round and he pushed himself through it. Both collapsed with exhaustion. Clementine actually fell asleep pretty quickly. Drake quietly snuck off to the bathroom and sobbed for hours about Meelah's death, about making his fiancée feel unimportant, about showing her what he had done on the streets, about begging her not to rape him while she hit him-

Before he could continue his thoughts, he yanked back the shower curtain and threw up in the toilet. Despite how used to anal he was, it wasn't every day (or ever really) that he had something that was thick and a foot long shoved up inside of him. It had actually been quite painful, which made him react accordingly and made everything feel much more authentic to her. She even pretended she didn't hear him when he'd used their safe word and she forced a balled-up shirt between his teeth and wrapped it tightly around his head to gag him so that he couldn't protest again. This had made him feel incredibly uncomfortable and honestly kind of scared. It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep himself in the present rather than in the past and he kept having to remind himself that it was only Clementine.

When he finally got out of the shower, the sun was coming up. He was absolutely exhausted both mentally and physically, but he refused to lay down next to Dahlia. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel completely betrayed and humiliated by her. Honestly, he was even a little bit disgusted. However, he was going to keep all of that to himself. He had talked about his feelings enough lately and it was time for him to stop being so selfish all the time.

"Hey!"

Drake's eyes shot open.

"I said you slept on the couch?" Clementine asked.

The boy blinked away the brightness shining through the living room window. He started to sit up, but he found his bottom to be in a lot of pain. This was no doubt from the pounding it had taken the night before.

The girl snapped her fingers in his face. "Are you listening to me?"

His voice came out stained. "Mmwhat?"

"Why didn't you sleep in our room?"

"Mmm," he moaned and rubbed his eyes.

"Drake!"

"What?" He could see that she was getting ill with him and tried to recall what she had asked. "I was watching tv 'cause I couldn't sleep. Didn't wanna wake you, so I came in here."

"Well, I'm off to class."

"'Kay." He wasn't too sad about her leaving this time.

She gave him a peck on the lips that was so quick he wouldn't have had time to kiss back even if he had wanted to. "Love ya, babes." She made her way towards the front door, then stopped and looked back expectantly.

Drake's brain was incredibly slow, so it took him a moment to catch on. Even when he did, he had a hard time getting those words out, so he said, "You, too."

"See ya in a few hours," she said. "When I get back, I'm gonna shag you so hard that last night will feel like nothing compared to this." She winked at him and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Author's Note: I wanted to thank Guest and Jennifer for reviewing my last chapter. Guest, you're compliment was sweet. Thanks. Jennifer, I do have plans to bring Mindy back into the story, but I can't promise that it'll be a happily-ever-after type of thing. However, I also never planned for this entire Clementine bit to happen where Drake moved in with her. Sometimes, the characters have minds of their own. But I appreciate you reading.

As always, please review. Reviews supply my brain with dopamine. Give me dopamine, please. Lemme know if there's any other suggestions or comments or criticisms or should the Charlie series have ended a long time ago? Idk. Byeeee.