Sorry, Charlie

by CHOOSELIFE

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

9. Split

(1 1/2 weeks later)

"Thanks for bringing me again," Drake said as he looked over on the bed beside him, where Brett lay.

Sam was on the next bed over. She spoke up for her boyfriend. "I think he's still trying to get over his fear of needles."

All three of them had needles in their arms because they were donating plasma. Dahlia had told Drake about it and had not-so-subtly suggested that it would be a good way to earn some money until he got back to work. She wanted him to take her out on a date — somewhere special and romantic. You get paid for donating blood plasma and you can do it twice a week.

"You didn't have to donate," Drake said.

"Brett would rather suffer through it than get a bad case of FOMO." Or in other words: fear of missing out.

"Well, you're doing great," the young man tried.

Through clenched teeth, Brett said, "Shut. The fuck. Up."

Drake backed off. "Sorry." He looked up at the ceiling, thankful that he wasn't alone. Being by himself publicly gave him anxiety. "I'm glad you guys are here. I would've been so bored without you two."

"I'm honestly surprised that Dahlia's been letting you leave the house," Samantha said. "I thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but that girl — she can hold some grudges."

"Believe me, I know."

"After you two were finally able to have sex again, she would not stop talking about it."

"She tells you all that?" He was worried, but he hid it well. He was embarrassed about a lot of their recent sex sessions. Honestly, he didn't even enjoy fucking her anymore — mainly because he was the one getting fucked, but even when he wasn't, it just didn't feel the same anymore.

"She did, like, a week or two ago."

"What...did she say?"

"You know, where you blindfolded her and all of that shit."

He felt relieved that she hadn't told anyone about their rape role-plays. "Oh, I didn't know she shared all of that with you."

"Unfortunately. But hey, damn, give my man some pointers, will ya?" she teased.

Brett looked at him, his teeth still shut tight. He lifted his arm (the one without the needle) and pointed his finger in Drake's face. "I'll kick your ass."

"I'm kidding!" Samantha said. "You're my big, strong teddy bear and you're perfect in bed." The girl had only been joking about her boyfriend needing tips and it was obvious, but Brett's pride was still hurt.

Drake saw this and, as a guy, he understood him, so he said, "Honestly, the only reason I lasted so long was because I couldn't get off. My ribs were hurting so bad that I was crying."

"That's why you blindfolded her?" Samantha said.

"Yeah. The second we were done, I ran off to the bathroom and got in the shower and cried for, like, half an hour. I got out and I was already thinking about dinner and shit, so I went to see what she wanted and I walked in there and she was still handcuffed and everything. I totally fucking forgot her."

Despite his fear, Brett stifled a laugh. "What the fuck? How? She didn't call you?"

"No, we were kinda doing this role-playing thing and I think I told her not to talk before I left her. Honestly, that whole thing's a blur. I just remember being in a lot of pain."

"Well, she sure enjoyed it," said Sam.

A nurse came around and checked on the group. "Alright, it looks like you guys are just about finished."

The needles were unhooked from their arms, they received snacks and Powerades, then they were on their way. They stopped by an ATM at Drake's request and he withdrew twenty dollars off of the card that the donation center had given him three donations ago. Soon, they were on the road again.

Drake reached between the two front seats and held the bill out. "Here's that twenty I owe you for that medicine you got me." He was referring to the male enhancement pills, but Samantha didn't know that.

"Keep it. You're good."

"No, lemme pay you back," Drake said seriously.

"You need that for your date with Dahlia."

"I got fifty each from the other two donations. That's plenty."

After the first two donations, compensation is then based on weight. The more you weigh, the more you're able to donate. Drake and Samantha both received twenty while Brett got thirty.

"Don't worry about it," Brett said again.

"Christians are allowed to be given money, too. Lemme not feel like a bum for a second. Sam, here, buy a new shirt. It's on Brett."

"Uh, hell yeah!" She accepted the cash. "There's something really sexy I've been eyeing at Victoria's Secret. It'll be a gift for both of us," she said to her boyfriend.

Brett gripped her hand, pulled it up to his mouth, then kissed her skin. "Is anybody hungry?"

"I'm starving," said Samantha. "I'm in the mood for Chick-Fil-A."

"Drake, is that good with you?"

The young man was reading something on his cell phone. "Um..." he said to stall, then when he was finished reading, he said, "What?"

"Chick-Fil-A?" Samantha said.

"That's fine."

The girl glanced at him from the front seat. "The fiancée's checking in?"

"Yeah."

Drake Parker: yea were otw now. stopping by chickfila want anhthing

"So where are you planning on taking her?"

"Dinner and a movie."

"Where are you going for dinner?"

"I don't know how to pronounce it, but it's obnoxiously expensive."

"Dahlia will love it then."

Clementine Martin: no get something small so you don't spoil your supper

---

"Can I have a bite of your sandwich?" Clementine asked, pulling her fiancé's attention away from the living room television, which was playing Pulp Fiction, a movie all four housemates actually liked.

Drake passed it to her, then leaned forwards and grabbed his lemonade off of the coffee table. As he sipped through the straw, a text popped up on his phone. He picked it up.

Gemini: u&dahl come 2 the club 2nite

Drake Parker: tonights datenight

Gemini: perfect yall can have ur date here

Drake Parker: wer doin dinner and a movie

Gemini: yawn

Drake sat back. When he went to take his sandwich back, he saw that Clementine had eaten the entire half that he'd had left. This annoyed him considering she had said not to get her anything and she had eaten all of his fries already. "Babe..."

"I was hungry," she said innocently, then gave him a puppy dog face. She knew he couldn't be upset with her then and she was correct.

Samantha had overheard their exchange over the television and offered up the rest of her sandwich. "I'm full anyways."

"Nah, it's okay. I'll probably throw up if I eat anything else. Thanks, though."

Sam looked over at him as he gathered up his trash. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Just nerves," he said as he stood and headed for the garbage can in the kitchen.

He hated that he was feeling so anxious. It probably had a lot to do with the date later on. Besides the three times he had gone to the donation center, this was the first time he had actually been able to leave the house. He wasn't sure why this bothered him and going to a place full of doctors and needles didn't. He didn't want to admit it, but it was probably because he felt extremely relaxed around Sam and Brett, but he felt like a complete fuck-up and try-hard around Clementine. He just wanted everything to go right. This was his first time out of the house with her in weeks and, honestly, their first date since...since before the relapse. He wanted this night to go perfect because this was the first time in a long time that he had the funds to spoil her. She's basically been keeping him up this entire time, but he was already looking for jobs even though his ribs weren't completely healed. Just so that they could go on this date tonight, he had physically sold his blood for her. Maybe it was normal to other people, but to him, this was one of the strangest, most dramatic thing he had ever done for a girl.

The young man made his way to the bathroom and, not surprisingly, he hurled into the toilet. Christ, pull yourself together. It's gonna be fine, Drake said to himself. If anything's gonna ruin tonight, it'll be this kind of shit right here.

During the process of vomiting, he was pretty sure he had done so fairly quietly, but now that it was over and he was thinking back on it, he started obsessing over what everyone would say if they had, in fact, heard him. Maybe he had been much louder than he'd thought. However, when he left the bathroom, no one mentioned it.

Instead, Clementine was slipping on some shoes. "I'm going to the store with Sam to find a new dress for tonight. I want it to be special since this is our first night out in a while."

"Okay," he said quietly.

When she kissed him, he was quick to end it and tried to hide it by giving her hand a squeeze while forcing a smile. Samantha noticed this just before she walked out the door.

"I love you."

"Drive safe." Drake had become a master at dodging her expectation of saying those words back. He did love her; it had just felt really hard to say it lately. He closed the door behind her, then started to head towards the hallway.

"Not gonna finish the movie with me?" Brett asked.

"No, I'm gonna go lay down." He was gone before the older boy could say more.

Brett furrowed his brows, then stood and went into the bedroom that the other couple shared. He found Drake already laying down. "What's up?"

"Nothing." He was quiet and distant and there was a hint of sadness in his voice despite the fact that he tried to hide it. He'd been hiding it for over a week now and it was honestly so exhausting, so when Clementine was gone, he always disappeared to the room to wallow in his sadness without getting accused of being a bad fiancé.

Although Drake wanted to be left alone, Brett moved over to the bed and took a seat next to him. "You can talk to me, you know?"

"I know. I'm really fine. Just tired."

"Maybe you should wait at least or week or so before your next plasma donation. That could be what's draining your energy."

"Maybe."

"Damn, bro. What happened to your wrists?"

Because he was laying down, Drake's long-sleeved tee had rolled up enough to expose his wrists. They were dark purple all around and rubbed raw. Despite how tight Dahlia always made the handcuffs, he always attempted to slip his hands out of them. This never worked.

"Just a sex thing," he said, covering them up.

"How come I haven't seen them before?" He grabbed Drake's arm and examined his wounds. "These definitely look like they've been here a minute."

Drake shrugged. The answer was that he had been wearing a lot of sweaters and jackets lately. When he went to donate plasma, he had to pull one sleeve up so that they could stick the needle in. On this wrist, he always wore a watch to cover the bruising. On the other, he wore a couple bracelets to avoid embarrassment when one of the center's workers had to check the inner folds of both arms and his elbows for track marks or whatever they hell they're looking for.

"Are you comfortable with her binding you like that?" Brett asked.

"Yeah." It was a lie, but he didn't want to discuss it further. "Um, I was gonna take a nap before the date..."

"Oh, shit, okay. I'll go. Lemme get you some water, though. You're supposed to drink a lot of water before and after donating, remember? It might help you feel better."

"Thanks."

---

Dahlia scrunched her nose up with disdain at the dress Samantha was holding up, so the girl put it back and continued searching the rack.

"I want something shorter, you know? Something sexy, but fancy. I don't wanna look like a sket."

"Gotcha. Any particular color?"

"It doesn't matter."

Sam nodded. She silently looked through the clothes in front of her for a moment, but her brain was elsewhere. As casually as possible, she said, "So how are things between you and Drake?" She had seen the way he'd blown off her kiss and he didn't even tell Dahlia he loved her when she left, which was so unlike him.

"They're really great!" she said. "He's just been so...you know, not sad and he's not clingy or jealous or upset when I leave for class or study group or whatever. And the sex!" This made her grin.

"Here we go again," Samantha shook her head with a smile.

"We've been trying a lot of new stuff in the bedroom. The other week, he let me peg him."

"What?"

"Yeah, I told him about how I've always wanted to play out a rape fantasy and-"

"Wait, what?" Her smile was now gone.

"I know, but it was so fucking hot. He was able to make himself cry for me and everything. You know how he can just turn those crocodile tears on like it's nothing."

"Dahlia, you do remember the things that he's suffered through in his past, right?"

"I mean, yeah, but..." She shrugged. "Obviously, if he would've said no, then no means no and I wouldn't have done it."

"I guess."

"I mean, he did use the safe word once, but it was really quiet like he didn't actually mean it. He just wanted me to tone it down a notch, you know?"

"Did he say that's what it meant?"

"Well, no. I put something in his mouth so he couldn't talk so he didn't really say much of anything after that."

"Dahlia..." Samantha was dumbfounded that her friend was smiling like what she was saying was cute. "It sounds like you just raped your fiancé."

"What?! No! You're misunderstanding what I'm saying. It was all part of the fantasy. He was role-playing." Suddenly, she pulled a dress from the rack and held it up in front of her thin figure. "Ooh, what about this one?!"

Samantha ignored her question. "What did he say after it was over?"

Clementine dropped the dress with exasperation as if she was annoyed that they were still on this topic. "I don't know. That was forever ago, but I do know that he liked it. If he would've said something negative about it, I would've stopped doing it."

"You've role-played like that since?"

"Yeah, a couple times, and not one time has he said something bad about it."

"Well, are you putting something in his mouth so he can't speak?"

"Well, yeah, but I take it out after we're done and he doesn't say he hates it," she said. "Besides, he cums every time."

"That really doesn't mean anything. Bodies have a mind of their own, even during sexual assault-"

"Excuse me?!" Dahlia glared at her. "I don't appreciate you standing there and accusing me of shit that you know nothing about. I'm sorry your sex life is dull and dry, but don't try to ruin mine because you're jealous, okay? You can just piss right the fuck off." She didn't even give a stunned Samantha time to respond. "You know what? Fuck this. I'm ready to go."

---

When Drake heard a car pull into the driveway, he knew it was time to put his "happy" face back on. He sighed as he pushed himself up lazily, then went down the hall. Once he entered the living room, the door burst open and an angry Clementine stomped through the door. It took everything in him to not verbally groan.

"Oh, look, here he is. Why don't you asked him?"

"Dahlia, chill, alright?" Sam said as she closed the door behind her.

"Ask me what?" Drake said.

"What's going on?" Brett asked from his spot on the couch when he saw just how heated one of the girls were.

"Well, go on." Dahlia looked back at her roommate while motioning towards her fiancé.

"It's nothing," said Sam, shaking her head.

Clem came out with it since the other girl wouldn't. "Samantha, here, wants to know if you think I raped you."

The young man's heart dropped into his stomach and his face went a bright shade of pink.

Brett paused the tv and stood. "Whoa, maybe we shouldn't be-"

"No, you guys should know, too, right? Samantha over here already thinks I'm a bloody rapist." She spat the name with venom.

"I didn't say that!"

"Yes, you did!"

Brett got in between the two when Dahlia took a step closer to her. "Okay, just calm down."

Sam craned herself over his shoulder so that she could see Dahlia. "The only reason I was concerned is because of what you told me."

Drake felt sick to his stomach and he was mortified, but he had to stick up for his girl. "She's my fiancée. She can't...rape me." He hated that fucking word.

"Drake, I'm not saying she did, but I know you know that that's not true. Just because you're engaged, it doesn't turn no into yes," Sam said. "This whole thing is blown way out of proportion and I wasn't trying to embarrass you. I was just trying to understand what Dahlia was telling me and, by what she was saying, it sounded like you weren't into it and she made you do it anyway."

"That is complete rubbish!" the other girl exclaimed.

"You said he said the safe word and then you put something in his mouth so he wouldn't be able to say it anymore. That's the part that worried me. I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything. I was just concerned for a friend." Samantha looked at Drake apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Oh, just sod off!" Dahlia said. "Tell her, baby. It was just a rape fantasy."

His throat was dry, so it cracked when he started to speak. He cleared it before trying again. "Yeah, I just...I was into it. It was all just...part of the role-play."

"See?! And you accused me of bloody rape!"

"I'm sorry!" Samantha said.

"You know Sam didn't mean any harm," Brett said defensively. "She just wanted to be sure that you were okay."

"I'm okay. I appreciate the concern," Drake said.

"Yeah, well I don't!" said Dahlia.

"Babe, it's cool." He took his fiancée's hand and pulled her away from the argument. He had no idea how he was going to calm her down, but he silently gave the other couple a nod to let them know he wasn't angry as he led Clementine to their bedroom to cool off. "She didn't mean anything by it. She's your friend." He closed the door behind them.

"Friends don't accuse friends of rape."

"Like she said, she just misunderstood what you were saying and she knows I can get overly sensitive to that kind of thing." He had a habit of making his own feelings sound invalid when he tried to cheer someone else up.

"Is what you said out there true," she asked, "or do you think I raped you, too?"

"Of course I don't, babe." He sat down next to her on the bed. "I...it was completely consensual. I just...I think it's important to...reestablish the importance of a safe word."

"You do think I raped you."

He had heard that word way too many times in the last few minutes and it made him cringe each time. "No! I don't! I promise. It was just that first time we did it. I was nervous about the whole thing, so I panicked and said the safe word, but I wanted to give you what you wanted, so I was okay when you kept going. Otherwise, you know I would've done something to stop you."

He had tried, which is why his wrists looked the way they did, but he didn't want to make her feel bad for something that was in the past and he didn't want to call whatever had happened "rape" because he refused to let another person have that kind of power over him. He had endured countless sexual assaults by many different people in his lifetime when a majority of people can go through their life without coming across this issue even once. Because of this, he had learned that it had to be himself. Something was wrong with himself, right? He had to be attracting these people somehow. When he was living on the streets, he had put himself out there as a sex object. Not surprisingly, he had suffered through a few bad encounters that he didn't like to talk about. It was to be expected with the job, right? He had basically done it to himself. Other times in his life were a little bit trickier, like with his dad and Tad when he was still his coach. He didn't know what he had done to set Martin off and he had no idea how Tad had smelled the weakness dripping off of him. He didn't know what exactly he had done to deserve what they had done to him, but for every other sexual assault in his life, he had found a way to blame himself, so surely those were his fault as well.

"My only request is that..." Drake continued, "maybe we can go back to the way we usually do things. I don't mind you pegging me at all," he was quick to say. "It's great, but lately, you've done it just about every single time we've fucked and we keep doing a lot of...rape scenarios and...I guess...I would just rather...kinda..." He was starting to think that he probably shouldn't have said anything because her reaction would be way worse than having a twelve-inch penis shoved up his ass every night. "...not." He looked down at the ground and braced himself for a slap.

"Okay," Dahlia said with a surprisingly soft voice. "All you had to do was say that. Don't put me in a position where I'd be considered a rapist."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

She was honestly shocked that she had managed to twist this around and make him feel like he had wronged her.

"You're not, though," he assured. "I was into it. I'm just ready for...a change of pace, I guess. I'm sorry. I should've told you how I felt."

"You should've. Aren't you the one always talking about honesty?"

"I guess I'm a hypocrite," he said sadly. "I'll do better," he promised.

She may or may not have raped him and he was the one apologizing for it! She was a fucking mastermind!

He sounded almost like a child when he asked, "Are you mad at me?"

She squinted her eyes and cocked her head to the side as if she was thinking about it, then Dahlia cracked a grin and place her hand on his cheek. "How could I be mad at this face?"

Drake closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers for a quick second before saying, "I'm sorry. I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

The young man kissed her again.

---

Drake stood in front of the mirror as he buttoned up the collared shirt his fiancée had picked out for him. He felt nervous about leaving the house despite how desperate he had been lately to do so.

Knock knock!

"Yeah?"

The bedroom door was pushed open and Brett stepped inside. "Hey."

"What's up?"

"Wow, you look nice," he complimented. "For a second, I forgot you owned anything other than pajamas."

"I forgot, too, but Clem found this hiding in the back of the closet," he casually joked as he fastened the last button. Next, he picked up his watch and slipped it onto his wrist, then his bracelets. He noticed that Brett was standing there watching him quietly and it was clear that there was something on the boy's mind. Again, Drake asked, "What's up?"

He hesitated. "Sam's kinda upset about everything. She feels bad that...you got put on blast like that."

"It's fine. I know she didn't mean anything by it." Quieter, as if he feared his fiancée might by listening to him via hidden microphones, he said, "It was Clem who made a whole thing about it. I don't want Sam to feel like she did anything wrong."

"You think maybe you could go talk to her? I think it'd make her feel better to hear it come from you."

"Yeah, of course." Drake gave his reflection a once over, then grabbed the clothes he had changed out of so that he could drop them off in the laundry room along the way.

"She's in our room," Brett said. "Just go in. She'll know it's you and ignore you if you knock."

"Shit, she's that upset?"

His friend nodded, then separated from him and went into the kitchen to find something for dinner while Drake went into their bedroom, where he found the girl laying on the bed with her back to the door. He could tell that she was weeping.

"Samantha..." He closed the door behind him and went around to Brett's side of the bed so that she would have to look at him. He slipped in next to her and offered a kind smile. "Why are you crying?"

She didn't respond. Instead she buried her head further into her hair.

Drake brushed the blonde strands away from her eyes. "Sam, I don't want you to think I'm mad at you. I'm not."

This time, she spoke and her voice cracked and went several octaves higher. "I just didn't want things to blow up like that."

"I know you didn't. Things just got out of hand. You know Clem. If she can make a scene, she will. She likes to be a drama queen."

"She'd kick your ass if she heard you say that."

"I know. I guess now you have blackmail power you can pull out when I refuse to do the dishes."

She couldn't help but choke out a small laugh, which made the boy smile. She sniffled, then asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay. In fact, I'm really thankful that I have you in my life. You speak up when you feel like something's wrong and, I mean, things were kinda wrong. I'm grateful that you brought it up because you really opened the door for me and Clem to be able to have a conversation that I've been too scared to have with her," he said. "So really, you did me a favor. You were looking out for me and I really appreciate that. Not many people would've stood up to their friend like you did and that's really brave, and the fact that you did that for me of all people — I feel so thankful to have you as a friend."

"Really?"

"Yes! You're nice and you're so fucking cool and I'm really glad I met you. You're like a little sister to me."

"Bitch, I'm older than you."

"Are you?"

She hit his shoulder. Unlike Dahlia, she actually knew how to do so playfully.

"I'm kidding!" He grinned when he heard her laugh again. "I don't want you to be sad for me, okay? I'm not sad."

"Okay."

"Can I have a hug?" When she nodded, he leaned over her and gave her a hug. After a moment, he became dead weight.

"Drake!" She tried to wiggle him off, but he didn't budge and there wasn't much else she could do since she was on her stomach.

"I've gotta go now." Instead of getting out of bed the way he had come, he rolled over top of her slowly like an irritating younger brother would.

"Ugh!" she groaned. "You're so annoying!"

"That's a rude thing to say."

She was suddenly able to muster enough strength to lift herself up and force him to roll off of her.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed with surprise just before hitting the floor.

This got Samantha laughing again, but she stood, then held out her hand and helped him to his feet.

"So are we good?" he asked. He didn't want her to only be half convinced now because, if she was anything like him, she might start obsessing over everything later until she got herself down about the same thing all over again.

"We're good."

Again, he gave her a hug, but this one more serious. "You know I love you to death."

"I love you, too, but the death part depends on how much pain is involved. If it's worse than a paper cut, you're on your own."

"Well, damn, Samantha!"

"I would miss you afterwards, though."

"Gee, thanks." He gave her one last squeeze and kissed the top of her hair before pulling away. "I've gotta see if Clem's almost ready. You should check on Brett. He's trying to cook dinner for you."

"Oh, boy."

She quickly opened the door and made her way into the kitchen. While Drake passed them, he could hear the girl questioning his methods.

"What are you doing?! You can't put this in there! And why does that even look like that?!"

Brett just seemed to stand there dumbfounded for a moment until his girlfriend pushed him out of the way. He looked over at Drake, then gave him a nod to express his thanks for making Samantha feel better. The young man gave him a small smile in return, then made his way towards the bathroom to see if Clementine was getting ready still. The door was cracked, so he pushed it open and found her standing in front of the mirror and applying make-up. She hadn't gotten the chance to find a cute dress at the store, so she was wearing an old skater dress with the straps crossing around the neck instead of on the shoulders. It was light pink to match the collared and button-up dress shirt she had picked out for her fiancé to wear. Dahlia had curled her hair and had it pinned back with just a few strands hanging around her face. Her black eyeliner made her blue eyes pop and her soft pink lip gloss made her kissable lips sparkle.

"Damn, girl," Drake said, "you got a boyfriend?"

She looked over at him with a smile, then played along. "A fiancé actually."

"I should've known that a lady who looks as fine as you would already be taken. He's a lucky guy."

"You've got that right."

The young man moved over to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He buried his face into her neck to plant soft kisses on her skin, but she lifted her shoulder and tried to pull away.

"Stop." She giggled. "That tickles."

However, he continued flirtatiously nipping at her skin for a couple more moments before resting his chin her her shoulder and gazing into her eyes through the mirror. "You're so perfect." He squeezed her tighter. "You could've had any man you wanted. Any guy would feel lucky just to be able to hold your hand." When he said this, his fingers gently moved down her soft arm until he was able to clutch her hand. He brought it up to his lips and kissed it. "But you chose me. You've made me the luckiest man alive."

These weren't just empty words. She could see it in the way his eyes glistened when he looked at her. He was madly in love with her and his kindness was quite the turn-on. She turned around to face him and pressed her lips against his. Drake was surprised when he felt her begin to unbuckle his belt, so without disconnecting their lips, he reached over and pushed the door closed. Dahlia pushed his pants and boxers down for him, then started stimulating him with her hand. He was ready to go in no time. She turned around so that she was in front of the mirror, then she lifted her dress and pulled her panties down. The young man got behind her and entered her. While doing this, Clementine turned her head and kissed his lips. Drake's hands traveled up her thin figure and rubbed her breasts through her dress, then he moved his hands down her arms and entertained his fingers with hers, which she had pressed against the mirror for support. He started out slow and gentle, but changed his pace when she urged him to take it up a notch.

"Harder. Don't pull my hair, though. I don't wanna redo it."

Instead, she grabbed Drake's hair and forced him to suck on her neck. He repositioned himself slightly so that he was hitting her g-spot, then he reached around and slipped his hand underneath her dress so that he could massage her clit. She let go of a moan with this. She panted so hard that her breath fogged up the mirror, but she wiped it away so that she could look back at her fiancé. As Drake sucked on her neck and played with her clitoris, he brought his other hand back up to her breast. She was overwhelmed with pleasure — so much so that she let out a scream.

"Shh!" Drake looked at her as he laughed. "They're right there in the kitchen."

Dahlia laughed, too, but soon, another yell escaped. Drake quickly pulled his hand from her breast and put it over her mouth, then she moaned against his hand. He pulled his lips from her neck and moved his mouth up to her ear, then nibbled roughly on the lobe. This way, with his head looking straight ahead, he would be able to see her orgasm and vice versa. He kept his hand over her lips to keep her quiet as she screeched with pleasure against it, then she, too, had to shush him with a smirk when a moan left his lips. He planted kisses down her hair and all the way to her shoulder blade, then she grabbed his hair again so that she could watch his climax.

"I'm gonna cum," he warned, which he now did every time due to bad experiences on the streets, where he received no warning.

She urged him on, telling him to do so inside of her, which he did. Afterwards, they caught their breath, then cleaned up.

"You've been taking your birth control, right?" He was usually good about remembering condoms, but this time he hadn't thought about it until halfway through and he couldn't get himself to stop.

"It's a little late to be asking that, init?" When she saw the look he gave her, she said, "Yes, I've been taking it. See?" She even started digging through her bag to show him.

"I believe you." He gave her a kiss.

"Besides, don't you think it's about time we had some little Drakes and Dahlias running around the house being cute?"

Again, he gave her that same look. "No..."

She smiled, then placed her palm on his face and gave him another kiss. "Let's just get through tonight, but we'll definitely talk about it later," she said, then she patted his cheek and moved past him to leave the bathroom.

Drake's heart started beating faster than it had been during the sex and he stood there completely dumbfounded for a moment before turning and following her out. Brett and Samantha were both still in the kitchen and staring at them.

"The walk of shame," Sam said as she shook her head.

Both couples were usually considerate and pretty good about keeping their noises down during sex unless they were alone in the house. Obviously, there were a few slip-ups. This was one of them. Clementine was smirking proudly while Drake apologized.

"Oh, and it was consensual by the way," the girl said. "In case you were wondering."

"Babe..." Drake said, but he was honestly too scared to go against her too hard. He would be in a shitload of trouble if he stuck up for another girl over her. He had been on thin ice with her a lot lately and he just wanted to lay low and get back on her good side.

"What?" Dahlia asked with that voice — the one she used when she was challenging him to say something. It was the voice that let him know that he was pushing his luck.

He whispered, "Please," and shook his head. He was thankful when she actually dropped the subject.

"Anyway, are you ready?"

"Yeah." Drake stood, then caught the keychain when she tossed it his way.

"You're driving," she said before saying a goodbye and walking out the front door.

Drake apologized on her behalf when she was gone.

"It's okay." Brett put his hands on his girlfriend's shoulders. "It's just gonna take her some time, but she'll get over it." He looked at Sam. "Besides, Drake will find a way to piss her off somehow and she'll forget all about being mad at you."

Drake scoffed. "I wanna say you're an asshole, but honestly, you're probably not wrong."

Samantha couldn't help but crack a grin, which satisfied the boys. "You better go before she starts honking the horn like last time."

Drake bid them farewell, then went outside. He jogged over to the car just before Clementine reached it and opened the door for her. "M'lady." He closed it behind her, then he got in the driver's seat.

---

"Ha! Stick that in your juicebox and suck it!" Sam teased when she saw that she had gotten first place in Guitar Hero II. "That's three to two. Guess that means you'll be stuck with laundry duty for the month."

"Rematch?" Brett asked.

"Nuh-uh." She shook her head.

"Come on. Double or nothing."

"No."

"Why? You chicken?"

"No. I'd just feel bad making you do laundry for two months straight."

He chuckled incredulously as he removed the guitar and set it down. "Wow, okay."

"You should've picked a different game, babe. You know I'm unbeatable at Guitar Hero. Drake actually plays guitar and even he can't beat me at this game."

"Well, we're gonna make a comeback. We've been practicing while you're at work."

"I could tell. You actually got a higher score than me in two of the songs...and one of those was my favorite!"

"We practiced forever on that one just to piss you off," he said. "It stings, doesn't it?"

"Not as much as having to do laundry for a month, I bet."

Brett eyed her for a moment, then said, "Touché."

Samantha fake pouted, then wrapped her arms around her man. "Aw, don't get grumpy. If it'll make you feel better, I'll make a bet with Drake and, when he loses, he'll have to deal with dinner and dishes for the next two weeks."

"I'll do the dishes. Just get him to do our laundry," said Brett. "I hate laundry."

She smiled. "I'm gonna get some ice cream. You want some?"

"Yeah." He glanced at the clock. "You think they're at the theater yet? I wonder what they're gonna see. Did Dahlia say?"

"Right. Like she would tell me anything after today," Samantha said as she opened the freezer.

"Don't even worry about her. You know how she is. Based off of what you told me she said, I would've thought the same thing as you. Honestly, I think Drake's lying to cover for her. You don't ignore a safe word."

"I was shocked that she even asked him to do that kind of role-play anyway. I can't even imagine how uncomfortable that must've been."

"Don't sweat it, though. I'm sure Drake is glad to know that you would actually stand up to your friend on his behalf when you feel like something is wrong."

"Yeah, that's exactly what he said actually." Samantha started scooping the ice cream into two bowls. "So you wanna watch a movie?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna go to the bathroom first."

"Wait, you want whipped cream?"

"Duh."

"Well, fuck me then."

Brett laughed as he went into the bathroom. After closing the door, he reached down to lift the seat up, then noticed a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of it. At first, he thought it had somehow ended up there by mistake, but then he noticed some rushed scribbles that looked to be written with mascara. He crinkled his forehead, then reached for it. His face contorted with disgust when he saw the piece of gum on the back that had made it stick to the bottom of the toilet seat.

Samantha sucked the strawberry ice cream off of her thumb, then opened the refrigerator and gave the shelves on the door a once over. "Yes!" She picked up a jar of maraschino cherries and carried them over to the counter. "Brett, you want cherries?" she called as she used a spoon to dig a few out. "Brat!"

She still didn't receive a response, so she put away the ice cream and whipped cream, then she poured herself a glass of lemonade. By the time she was finished, her boyfriend walked out of the bathroom.

"Bruh, did you not hear me talking to you?" When she looked up at him, she immediately noticed that something was wrong. Her heart started beating faster as her brain came up with dozens of disastrous scenarios that could've just happened in the last couple minutes. "What?" She expressed confusion when she was handed a bit of toilet paper. She saw the words written on it and read aloud. "Hate to be that guy but I matched this girl on tinder and got invited to her place. After we fucked — oh my God." She put her hand over her heart and was filled with sadness. "After we fucked she made us lunch but she accidentally spilled her drink on me and opened the closet and gave me one of your shirts. I had no idea she already had a boyfriend and wouldn't have slept with her had I known. So sorry bro but I thought you should know. Oh my God." She looked back up at Brett. "Dahlia really is cheating on him."

Although his girlfriend was sad and sympathetic, Brett was pissed. "That is so fucked up. I can't believe she would actually do this to him. They're fucking engaged!"

"Where did you find this?" Sam asked.

"It was stuck to the bottom of the toilet seat with gum. I guess he knew she would never need to lift the seat and he would find it when he went to the bathroom."

"This is awful. Oh, I feel so bad for him." She read the note again. "I feel so sick to my stomach."

"This is gonna destroy him." He shook his head with anger. "God, what a bitch!"

"What do we do?" Samantha asked.

"We have to tell him."

"I know that's the right thing to do, but...I'm scared he'll relapse. He's super sensitive."

"I can not believe she did this to him," Brett said again.

"When do you think it happened?"

"We drank all that water this morning before we donated plasma. I peed before I left the house and it wasn't there then."

"So she fucked some guy while Drake was out selling his blood to take her out on a nice date?"

"I fucking knew she was cheating, but at the same time, I'm still so shocked."

"Okay, for real, what are we gonna do?" said Samantha. "I know we should tell him, but I feel like maybe we shouldn't do it tonight. He worked really hard to make today special."

"So we should just let him fuck her knowing some other guy was painting her walls just hours before?! That's bullshit!"

The girl stayed silent as he worked to tone down his rage, which he did quickly due to his guilt.

Moments later, he said, "Sorry. I don't mean to take it out on you. I just... What the fuck is she doing?"

"I know." She wrapped her arms around Brett and rested her head against his chest.

"Her mouth was probably all over his dick, too, and she's been kissing Drake like nothing even happened. She's fucking sick." He sighed, then said, "He's gonna freak the fuck out."

---

Samantha could see Drake's demeanor change when he read the confession scribbled on a bit of toilet paper. Of course he refused to take their word for it, but now he had indisputable proof. Now he had to face the truth. He read it, reread it, then reread it again. After that, he handed it back to Brett.

"You okay, bro?"

"Yeah," he said and he sounded like he meant it.

"What are you gonna do?" asked Sam.

He shrugged. "Nothing."

"What?"

"What do you mean nothing?" This angered Brett. "You can't just ignore this."

"I don't think she did it."

"What do you mean?!" He had to be shushed by his girlfriend so that Clementine wouldn't hear them. "This is literal proof that she's cheating on you."

Again, he shrugged. It was clear that he had something to say, but he refrained.

"What?" Brett said.

"Nothing. I just... She's not the only girl that lives here."

This really pissed Brett off. "I know you're not calling Samantha a cheater in front of me."

"Okay, look-" Samantha placed her hand on the boy's chest to calm him. "I know this is hard to take in, Drake. I know you love her, but you even said yourself that you thought she was cheating."

"But the note says boyfriend," he argued. "I'm not her boyfriend; I'm her fiancé."

"Do you really think she would've stopped to tell him that she was engaged?"

"I don't think she did it," he said again.

"You're in denial," Brett said, "but I know you know it's true. You know how Dahlia is."

"No." He shook his head and cocked it to the side in a challenging manner. "How is she?"

Samantha could tell that he was getting defensive now and, if Brett insulted Drake's fiancée in anyway, he would probably start throwing punches. She'd never seen Drake do so before, but she knew that he was capable of it after hearing about the fist fight he'd started with Clementine's ex Carter.

"Babe, can you just — can I talk to him for a sec?" she politely requested.

Brett hesitated, but he nodded, then left their room to give the two some privacy.

After this, Samantha sat down on her bed in front of Drake and looked up at him. "Go ahead and ask me what you wanna ask me."

"I don't wanna ask you anything," he said phlegmatically.

"You don't wanna ask me because you know I'll tell the truth and you don't wanna believe it."

Drake's calm and collected expression faltered a bit at this, but he kept quiet.

"Ask me." Again, she got nothing. "Ask me," she pushed firmly.

Although she was a woman and he had mostly been wronged by men in his past, he feared that strict, authoritative voice no matter which gender it came from. Because of this, he complied, although hesitantly.

"Did you cheat on Brett?"

"No," she said in a voice so serious that he felt a sinking feeling in his gut. She had never used that tone before. "You know the last thing I would want is to get in between you and Dahlia. I would never throw her under the bus and ruin your relationship just to save my own. I did not cheat on Brett. I would never cheat on Brett. I was not the girl this guy slept with." She pointed at the note again.

For a moment, she saw his eyes water over, but only for a moment. He rubbed his nose and sniffled, the sound of which made it clear how stuffed up it was and how close to crying he was. He put his hands back on his hips and looked down at the floor, his mind clearly racing at a hundred miles a minute. She sat silently while he worked things out in his head. It wasn't long before he spoke. His voice was back to being cold and empty.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Thanks for bringing it to my attention." He didn't sound incredibly thankful. "Goodnight."

"Drake-"

Before she could say more, he had left her room. Did he believe her? He wasn't too sure. In his brain, he thought that maybe there was a chance that she was telling the truth, but in his heart, he felt like there was no way that Dahlia would ever do that to him. He went straight to the bedroom he shared with his fiancée and was met with a giant grin. She was laying sideways on the bed in red lace lingerie, which was see-through and only went low enough to cover her panties, leaving little to the imagination. She was sexy as fuck and, normally, the sight of this alone would arouse him, but his doubts were hindering that from happening.

"What's the matter? Don't you like it?" she asked.

He shook away his thoughts of paranoia. "Yeah. It's very hot."

She smirked with satisfaction, then waited. After a moment, she said, "Well? Get your ass over here and shag me so hard I can't walk straight for a week."

"Um, I'm...actually I'm kinda tired. It's been a long day and-"

"Oh, boo!" She scrunched her nose as if she smelled something disgusting.

He tried to come up with an excuse. "I think donating the plasma today just took a lot out of me. I'm physically exhausted."

She frowned, then stood and walked over to him. She grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the bed, where she made him sit down, then Dahlia got on her knees behind him, removed his shirt and started massaging his shoulders.

"Clem-"

"Shh. Just relax."

He couldn't deny how great it felt. He closed his eyes and allowed her to get the tension out of his muscles. A minute went by and a moan left his lips.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm."

The girl then put her lips in the crook of his neck and sucked on his skin. So that she had enough room, her hands moved down to his biceps and she began massaging those. Drake's breathing got heavier and goosebumps rose up on the back of his neck. Soon, she pulled his chin towards her and connected their lips, then her hands gently slid down his bare torso. Although he wanted to, Drake didn't protest when she unfastened his jeans, nor did he stop her when she got on his lap, straddling him as she shoved her tongue down his throat. Even when he pulled his lips away, she didn't stop. She was all over him. She kissed him and touched him and he just sat there and let her do it. It felt good — he had to admit that much — but he couldn't stop thinking about that note. Did he think Samantha would ever cheat on Brett? No. Never. But he didn't want to believe that Clementine had been unfaithful to him either. Now that Brett and Samantha had confronted him, things with Dahlia felt different. The way her lips grazed his skin, the way her fingernails lightly gliding up his torso made the hairs on his arms stand up — it wasn't the same. There was no emotional or spiritual connection. It was strictly primal.

Drake was suddenly shoved backwards so that he was laying down, his feet still planted on the floor. Dahlia leaned over him, her lips traveling down his torso. She shimmied his jeans and boxers down, then tossed them to the side. The young man laid there as she took his penis in her mouth, then she slipped her free hand into her panties and started getting herself ready.

When both were physically aroused, she sat down on Drake's lap again, but this time, with her back towards him. She moved her hips, penetrating herself with his penis as he kissed her shoulder blade. One of her spaghetti straps slipped down her arm, so he pulled the front of that side of her dress down, revealing her boob. He cupped it in his hand and squeezed it until he heard her moan.

---

Drake had been unable to sleep that night. He reread that note over and over again and even went so far as to go through his closet to see if he noticed anything missing. That guy still had someone's shirt and, if all of Drake's clothes were accounted for, then Clementine couldn't be the mystery girl. However, a lot of his clothes had been left behind at Ricardo's and Gem has borrowed a shirt from him when he'd spent the night probably. Drake probably had a couple shirts at Gemini's honestly. He was somehow terrible at keeping up with his clothes.

The next day when Dahlia headed out for study group, Drake gave her a kiss and let her go without a word. However, that's when his paranoia got the best of him. He couldn't stand not knowing anymore. Brett let him borrow his car and Drake followed her. The house was in the next neighborhood over, which was less than ten minutes away. Drake parked down the street so that he wouldn't be seen, then he started to make his way towards the house.

As he stood behind a line of bushes dividing one yard from the next, he started to realize just how fucking crazy this was. He was stalking and spying on his fiancée. This was not him. This was not who he was. What ever happened to trust? Trust used to be the foundation of his relationships, but now he was creeping in the bushes and peeping through windows like some kind of freak. Drake started to change his mind about this plan. There was no uncrossing that line if he went through with it. This would cause a huge riff in their relationship if she saw him and he didn't know how many more he could cause before she finally broke up with him.

Before he had time to decide, however, the front door opened and he saw a familiar face: Carter. He had no time to comprehend what was happening before the two connected their lips. Dahlia pushed him inside and was already removing his shirt as he flung the door closed. Drake's heart dropped. His mind was racing and it was hard to breathe. It wasn't long before his nerves got so bad that he leaned over and puked his guts out.

Tears stung his eyes when he was done. He had no idea what to do, but he knew he couldn't stand here for some neighbor to spot and he felt too weak to make it back to Brett's car. Instead, he went over to Clementine's car and got inside, quietly closing the door behind him. Now he was alone and could have his meltdown in private. Unfortunately, he had no one there to keep him from going into full-blown panic mode.

Drake closed his eyes and rested his head against the headrest. Okay? Just calm down, okay? Don't freak out. Not right here. Not right now. He took a huge breath through his nose, then opened his mouth and slowly let it out. I'm gonna go in there and kick his motherfucking ass, I swear to God. No, stop. Just think. Just think. The young man was so angry that he was shaking, but even after what he had witnessed, he was still absolutely in love with her. Fuck! Oh, fuck, Clem, why would you do this?! Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Look, you cheated on her first. You went out and you whored yourself out and you relapsed. She forgave you, you did it again, then she forgave you again. You can talk this through with her and you can forgive her just like she did for you countless times before. We can work this out. This doesn't have to mean it's over. We can still get through this.

Just then, he heard a loud sound that sent a whole new wave of nerves through him. His eyes jerked open, then he looked down at the cup holder between the seats. It was Dahlia's phone. He picked it up and looked at the screen. She had received a text message, but she had it set up so that it didn't show its contents on the lock screen. He swiped to the side to open the phone, but was then prompted to put in a four digit combination.

"Shit!" he quietly cursed.

Never had he gone through her phone before. He didn't believe in such an invasion in privacy. This was an exception. He typed in the year that she was born, then the month and date when that was wrong. As he did this, he started recalling times when he noticed the girl being extremely secretive about her password and what she was doing on her phone. He had been so fucking naive to trust her. Doubtful, yet hopeful in a way, Drake typed in the day they had met. No luck, and now he was locked out for the next minute.

"Fuck!"

He knew that he would only lock himself out for longer and longer periods of time if he kept guessing wrong. He took this time he had to think. Clem is clearly selfish as fuck. It's got to be about her somehow. How did she not put her birthday? That's literally her favorite time of year. Come on, Drake. Think. What are some important dates? What are her favorite numbers? Anything. Just when his one minute was up, he remembered something. She was from Europe. They write their dates differently, with the actual day coming before the month. He typed in her birthday again, but European-style, and miraculously, her phone unlocked.

"Yes! Holy shit!"

For someone who was always on her cell phone, she actually didn't have many apps. She had the basics: Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat and Twitter. However, right underneath that row, he saw the Tinder app. He clicked on it, then went to her messages. He scrolled through and saw dozens of messages. He then went back up to the top and opened the first one.

Tyrone: ok lemme know when ur free

Dahlia: no class today and the roommates are gone for the next couple hours. can u swing by?

Tyrone: omw [runner emoji]

This was from yesterday morning before Drake had left with Samantha and Brett to donate plasma. He remembered this. He had literally been sitting right next to her, slipping on his shoes while she typed away on her phone. He had told her bye, told her he loved her; she had said the same things back. She'd kissed him and told him to hurry back. She said she'd miss him. Each one of those lies had effortlessly rolled off of her tongue. Apparently, he was just a roommate to her.

Tyrone must have been genuine when he'd expressed guilt because Clementine had messaged afterwards hoping that he'd hook up with her again soon and he never responded. He read through more of the messages, each one ripping his heart into more and more shreds. Minutes into this, Dahlia received a message through Facebook. Drake looked at the banner on the top of the screen.

Keegan: wyd

Drake recalled the name. This was supposed to be the guy from Clem's study group.

Keegan: fiance around?

Drake blinked at this. He actually knew that she was engaged and he was still willing to fuck her?! He clicked on the message, then immediately regretted it because Facebook messenger tells people when their messages have been read.

Keegan: im horny

Keegan: send pics

Keegan: give me more like last time with the closeup of ur tits

Keegan: &another one of u with that dildo

Keegan: actually send a vid for that one

Drake scrolled up further and it wasn't long until he saw a dick pic. He clicked on it, then scrolled so that he could see for himself what kinds of photos his fiancée was sending to other guys behind his back. She'd sent him nudes before, but less often now that they lived together. Even so, he had never received the kinds of pictures she was sending to these other guys. They were dirty and perverse, which he would've loved had she sent them to him and not every single guy on her fucking phone. There was even a photo of her touching herself at her desk and Drake could just barely be seen sleeping in the dark background. Not only had she cheated countless times; she was making a complete mockery of him in the process.

Drake had had enough. He couldn't stomach seeing anymore messages or anymore pictures. There was only one more thing he needed to know. He backed out of Keegan's messages and scrolled down without even reading the names. He was curious how long this had been going on. If it started during the two months that he'd abandoned her, well, he probably deserved that honestly. However, he scrolled and scrolled and scrolled and saw that she had been sleeping with other guys since the start of their relationship.

Drake felt light-headed. Everything she had ever said to him was a lie. Ricardo had been right all along. She never loved him. She had only been using him and he'd been too fucking stupid to see it. She made him look like a fool in front of his friends. Ha! What friends? He'd dropped every last one of them for her! How could he have been so fucking blind?! He was such an idiot! Drake couldn't stop himself when he suddenly vomited again, this time in the floor of her car. He almost started to clean it, but then stopped himself. Fuck it, he thought. He got out of the passenger's seat and made his way back down the street to Brett's car. Once inside, be drove away. He wanted to get as far away from here as fucking possible.

---

He was bawling so hard that it was almost impossible to see the road. He fervently wiped at his sore nose, then his eyes, then his nose again. Audible sobs left him and his back jerked with each one. The closer to home he got, the harder he cried. He didn't want Brett and Sam to see him like this, so the fact that he couldn't stop crying made him cry harder. He wanted to die. He wanted to slaughter his wrists, take a shitload of pills and choke on his own vomit in her bed so that she could find him and feel guilty as shit. No matter how much he hated her right now, though, he loved her too much to do that to her.

When he arrived at home, he saw that Samantha's car was gone and remembered that her and Brett had some volunteer thing with the church today. He was thankful to have the house to himself. He walked right in and went directly to the room he shared with his fiancé — the room he used to share with his now ex. He went to the closet and grabbed an old book bag. He moved around so much that it was overdue time for him to invest in a suitcase. However, this backpack had been through everything with him. It had carried his hygiene products when he'd stayed with his dad that summer. It had carried his math textbook that one time he actually remembered to bring it when he had to study with Mindy. It had carried his Charlie supplies (consisting of a couple boxes of Triple C's, a pair of scissors and a bottle of water) when his addiction had really started spiraling out of control. It had carried his cat Fonzie to and fro before his father ended up killing him. It had carried the magazines and word search books his mother had given him after Martin had injured him enough to require hospitalization. It had carried the clothes he'd got to finally return home in after two long, grueling months. It had carried the can he'd bought, which had ultimately lead to Meelah's death. It had carried the drugs and alcohol he'd ingested for his first suicide attempt. It had carried three shirts, two pairs of boxers, a pair of jeans and the one hundred and thirty dollars he'd stolen out of Walter's wallet when he'd been kicked out and forced to move back in with his abusive father. It had carried a few extra boxes of Triple C's he'd hoped to share with Mindy when he'd met up with her at a diner, only to receive news of her pregnancy. It had carried the ecstasy pills he'd had to sell for Marcellas. It had carried nothing but a useless journal the first time he'd been homeless. It had carried the ten dollars Tad had given him for the handjob in the diner bathroom, which was his first experience with prostitution. It had carried the five hundred dollars that Molly had given him per fuck to pay Marcellas. It had carried that last box of pills that his mom had tossed out the car window, which had lead to him causing her to wreck and end up in a wheelchair. It had carried a pack of cigarettes, almost empty by the time he made it home, where his father then attempted to kill him, but had died in the process. It had carried the pain meds he'd had to take while living with his mom and Walter again. It had carried the Triple C's he'd relapsed on and the phone number Tad had given him just before Drake had been kicked out of his home again. It had carried the razor blades he'd bought to kill himself because he was sick of letting Tad have his way with him. It had contained absolutely nothing when Ricardo had practically kidnapped him and forced him to get clean. It had carried a few condoms that he was ready to use as soon as he could convince that hot girl Dahlia to leave the bar and go back home with him. It had carried the Triple C's he'd ended up relapsing on after nine months sober. It had carried the grocery sack that had contained the bottle of lube he took with him to the truck stop. It had carried his Trainspotting book, the only thing worth keeping when he'd left the streets and moved back in with the Santos brothers. It had carried the snacks and water bottle Ricky had packed for him as they hiked up a mountain. It had carried some of the alcohol back to the cabin, which he later got so wasted on that he ended up sleeping with his best friend. It had carried his mom's current address written on a napkin, which he'd left unread. It had carried his toothbrush in case Clementine let him inside to cuddle (and she did) despite the fact that he'd abandoned her for two months. It had carried both Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer when he'd left Ricardo's to move in with Dahlia after the big fight. It had carried his I.D., which they'd required so that he could drink at Chili's after he'd proposed to the love of his life. Now it would carry whatever he felt was most important because he didn't plan on returning to this house ever again.

Drake started grabbing all of his clothes out of the closet. He didn't have much, but still, they wouldn't fit in his book bag. He would just have to get a garbage bag to put things in. He piled everything in the closet that he owned on the bed, then snatched open some of the dresser drawers to grab more of his belongings. As he did this, he heard the front door open.

"Drake?" It was Dahlia.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed quietly.

She'd gotten here quick. Well, maybe not. She'd had plenty of time to finish fucking Carter and find the vomit in her car. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Drake had caught her. Literally, every bad emotion made him throw up uncontrollably. He probably shouldn't have parked on the side of the road and spent so much time sobbing, but it had just been so hard to see and he had wanted to stop being so emotional because he'd thought his roommates would be here.

He picked up his two kittens and put them into his backpack, leaving it partially unzipped so that they could breathe. He was going to have to leave his clothes and literally everything else. He didn't care. He just wanted to get as far away from Dahlia Martin as possible. Unfortunately, when he went to slide up the bedroom window, it wouldn't budge. As he struggled with the old, rusty locks, the bedroom door burst open.

"Drake-" She paused when she saw his things emptied out of the closet and dresser. "Drake, what the fuck?"

If he wasn't so desperate to leave, he would've been baffled that she was playing innocent right now.

"Where are you going?"

"As far away from you as I can get." He gave up on the window and turned back to her.

"Excuse me?"

"You can cut the fucking bullshit, Clem! I saw you with him!"

She paused, then said, "Okay, look, Drake. It was a one-time thing-"

"I saw the messages in your phone. On your Tinder app," he said to jog her memory. "And on Facebook. 'Fiancé's gone. Now come show me what a proper shagging's like.'" This was only one of the many messages that were now permanently carved into his brain. "Keegan wants you to send more pictures by the way."

She knew she was caught and that there was no denying it, so she started attacking him. "You're the one who pushed me away! You. Left. Me. Remember?"

"Yeah," he said harshly. "Too bad I wasn't smart enough to fucking stay gone."

"You are such a hypocrite! You know that?! You were out there shagging hundreds of guys! That's no different than what I did!"

"I didn't do it over the span of our ENTIRE FUCKING RELATIONSHIP!" He was still crying and his voice cracked with these words, which made him feel pathetic.

"I only cheated because I was going mad being around you all the time! All you do is lay around moping and whining about yourself! It's a fucking bummer, Drake!"

He turned his head away and chuckled bitterly as he wiped his nose.

"Being around you when you were like that made me wanna kill myself! You drove me away! You did!"

"Yeah, you're right," he said through his tears. "It's my fault. It's like you said: no one else will accept my baggage. Well, I would rather be alone forever than spend one more second wasting my life with you!" he spat viciously, then he tried to go past her.

Dahlia shoved him back, then shut and locked the door.

"Get THE FUCK out of my way!"

"You're not leaving!"

Again, Drake tried to force his way past and again, he was shoved. This time, it was hard enough for him to fall onto his ass. Worried about his kittens, he removed his book bag until he had a safe passage for them to leave. "The fuck is your problem?! Clearly, you don't wanna be with me or you wouldn't have cheated, so just move and let me get the fuck out of your life!"

"You're breaking up with me?!" she said incredulously as he pushed himself back onto his feet.

"Clem, I swear to fucking Christ-"

"You?!" she repeated. "You're dumping me?!"

"Look, I don't give a shit who dumps who! Tell all your friends you broke up with me if you want! I don't care as long as I never have to fucking look at you again!"

"You don't get to walk out on me! You're the fucked up one in this relationship! You're the one with all the issues! You're the one who drags a shit ton of baggage around everywhere you go!" Dahlia yelled. "You're a bloody junkie! You ran out on me and became a fucking prostitute!" She spat that word out of her mouth.

"Yeah, you're right, so if you can step the fuck aside, I can get out of here and stop inconveniencing you with my bullshit."

Suddenly, she brought her hand up and smacked him so fast that he hadn't seen it coming. "I'm trying to have a fucking conversation with you and you're standing there being all sarcastic and I don't appreciate that!"

"Don't fucking hit me!" He shoved her away from him, which angered Clementine to the point that she did exactly what he told her not to. "You don't get to hit me! You do not get to hit me anymore, you fucking bitch!"

Never had he ever stood up to her in this way. Never had he stood up to anyone ever. Dahlia didn't like this new, braver Drake at all. She had to remind him who the fuck he was. She had to put him back in his place. She gave him another hard shove. He tripped over the foot of the bed and fell backwards onto it. Before he could move, she was on top of him and she continued hitting him, but with her fist this time.

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?! Huh?! You're the one who's a bitch! Not me!"

He had his arms up to protect his face. "Get off!" he shouted. "Clem, I mean it! Stop!"

"You see?! And you're trying to call me the bitch?!"

His mind was dragging him back to his father's and all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sob. He felt scared like maybe he was going to die. This is how that night had started after all. He was beaten, then he was raped, tortured and almost killed.

"Stupid, worthless fuck!"

He couldn't tell whether Martin or Dahlia had said this. He was slipping. When he peeked through the crack between his arms, he couldn't tell if it was his father or his fiancée on top of him.

"You are nothing without me! Do you hear me?! NOTHING!" This definitely sounded like Martin.

A wave of fright rushed through his body. Fear jolted through his fingers so many times that he could physically feel them pulsating. His dad was back and he'd come to finish what he had started. Drake turned and grabbed a fistful of the comforter, but before he could begin crawling out from under the raging man, his shoulder was snatched and he was shoved into his back. Now that he was forced to look up, he found himself staring into the eyes of a man he thought he'd killed. His heart was bursting out of his chest and he was paralyzed with terror. In an instant, his jaw received a punch, which reminded him to shield himself. However, that's not what happened. Instead, he shoved Martin back with all of his might.

"Stay the hell away from me!" he screamed.

There was a crash as Clementine fell back with so much force that her head collided with the wall. Drake couldn't move. He laid there trembling although he knew he needed to run. It was like he had forgotten how. He knew his father would be back on top of him if he didn't get up, but his muscles weren't working. He was on full alert. As he hyperventilated, the boy's eyes scanned the room. His brows furrowed with confusion as he realized that this wasn't his dad's house at all. Finally, he pushed himself up and that's when he saw Dahlia on the floor clutching the back of her head.

"What the fuck, Drake?!"

"Shit! I'm sorry!" Despite everything that she had done to him minutes ago, he was overcome with guilt. He hurried to her side. "I didn't mean to! Are you okay?! Fuck, I'm so sor — aaahhh!" He crumpled to his knees after he was punched in the groin. He'd had no time to brace for it and the surprise of it knocked the wind out of him. He clutched his lower stomach and took in short, staccato breaths of air, then slowly leaned over until his forehead rested against the carpet. The pain brought even more tears to his eyes. "Fuck..." he said on a quick exhale.

"I think I'm fucking bleeding," Dahlia said, but she wasn't. "You shoved me so hard I'm fucking bleeding."

"Gmm..." the boy groaned. His voice came out as a whisper. "M'sorry."

"You're sorry?!"

"Fuck..."

"You're sorry?!" she said louder to get his attention.

"I'm sorry. Oh, shit..." Suddenly, he was roughly shoved into his side.

"How does that feel?! Huh?!"

"Clem...just give me a minute... Fuck..."

"No. I want you out now!"

"Just..." He didn't see himself moving for the next five minutes at least.

"Now, I said!"

Drake still wasn't moving and this infuriated her.

"GET OUT!" the girl screeched at the top of her lungs. She stood and went over to her purse, then pulled out her phone. "I'm ringing the police."

"Clem, don't! Please, don't!" Despite his bruises, he felt like the cops would side with Dahlia because she was a lady. He yelled through clenched teeth as he straightened. "I'm going. I'm going, okay? Fuck," he cursed as he got onto his feet. He wiped the water from his eyes so that he could see, then he sort of limped over to his bag and picked it up. Drake let go of his breath through pursed lips.

"Get out! I hate you!" Clementine yelled and she gave him one last shove.

He managed to catch himself on the door frame, then he kept going. "Fucking bitch." He walked outside and slammed the front door behind himself.

---

It had taken every ounce of strength Drake had to keep himself away from Tad's and Walmart. Relapsing like that and falling back into that degrading lifestyle would only hurt Drake, not Dahlia. In fact, she would be extremely satisfied to see the boy ruin his life on her behalf. He'd end up on the streets doing the same old shit, begging for spare change just to keep the hunger pangs at bay and she would go on to be a rich, successful doctor knowing that she was the last good thing he'd ever had in his life. That's what she wanted and he refused to give her that, but damn if it wasn't hard!

Instead, he'd settled for the gay nightclub he'd grown so accustomed to while staying with Gemini. Speaking of Gemini, he could've called him, he supposed, but he didn't want to be around anyone right now — not anyone who would pry and ask him a thousand questions about what had happened. He didn't want to think about any of that. He just wanted to drink his pain away before he changed his mind about not using Triple C's.

God, he was so fucked! He literally had nowhere to go and no one who would want him. Whether he did Charlie or not, he would be back on the streets. Now that he knew the truth about Dahlia, he recalled every warning Ricardo had given to him regarding her. He had been right all along, but it was too late to go back there. Clementine had turned him against his best friends — the only people who had had his back for the last three years — and now he was alone. Just like she wanted. Drake looked like such a fool!

He'd made his mistakes and he knew he had to live with them now. He'll have to figure it all out and get his life straight on his own. Not tonight, though. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight.

"Drake?"

The young man had done his usual, fucked up routine of flirting with a few guys so that they would buy him drinks, then he'd chased them all away by drunkenly unloading all of his baggage. He couldn't remember how many times he had done this, but he was so wasted that he didn't even hear the person who was saying his name. Instead, he had his head hidden in his arms like he was napping, which was almost true. He was very close to passing out.

"Drake," the voice said again. "Hey, Drake. Drake!"

Finally, the young man lifted his head, but his eyelids hung heavily over his pupils. He sniffled as he looked around with confusion.

"Jesus..."

Drake blinked a few times until his eyes managed to focus on Josh — not his brother, but the Josh he'd hooked up with in the parking lot. Suddenly, his drunk self thought he had the most brilliant idea.

"I haven't seen you in a minute. Is Gemini here, too? I didn't see him on the dance floor." He turned towards the crowd as if to search for their mutual friend.

"Canwegetouttahere?" Drake slurred, wasting no time.

Josh gave him a quick once-over. "Are you okay?"

The young man's glazed eyes sparkled and he let out a short chuckle through his nostrils as if Josh had just said something cute. He flashed the hipster a smile that he knew he wouldn't be able to resist. At least, that's what he hoped was happening because it was actually incredibly hard to hold his eyes open. Drake touched Josh's bicep as a way of persuasion. Just like he'd been taught by a lot of important men in his life, he was using sex as a means of manipulation. "Let'sgobacktoyourplace, yeah?" His fingers slid down Josh's arm gently so that his touch brought chills up on the boy's skin.

Once he grazed over his wrist, Josh took his hand in his, then helped him out of the chair. "Is this your bag?"

"Mm-hmm." Drake grabbed it. Thankfully, he was still conscious enough to be careful with it.

He leaned on Josh, who guided him out the front doors and to his car. Josh opened the door and helped him inside, then he buckled the seatbelt for him. As he leaned across the boy, Drake put his hand on the sober guy's cheek and pressed their lips together.

---

Josh, being the gentleman that he was, had tried his best to resist all of Drake's attempts to have sex. Why was Drake doing this? Well, the drinks of course, for one thing, but also because he wanted to hurt Dahlia the way she had hurt him. Would Dahlia ever find out about this? No, probably not, but he had to do something out of spite before he gave up and got high again. In addition to these nonsensical reasons, he was also grateful that Josh had taken him in because — let's face it — if he would've had to go back to the streets, he would've undoubtedly relapsed. In a way, it was almost like he owed this hipster his life. He'd just have to settle for his body for now.

The second they had arrived at Josh's home, Josh had attempted to make something to sober his houseguest up. Drake had faced quite a bit of resistance before the chubby suspenders- and bowtie-wearing man finally gave in to his seductive teases and rather blunt advances. The two had made out in a hot and heavy manner in the kitchen. Hands were all over the place as they tore at each other's clothes impatiently. As they did this, Josh was forcing him to back up until Drake ran into the kitchen table. Without having to say it, it became clear that the hipster was a top. His guest didn't mind. After Josh lubed up, his sex partner laid his back against the tabletop and lifted his legs so that the man could support them. Immediately after that, Josh started the penetration.

Drake's breathing was heavy and he was sweating already with much help from the alcohol. He put on a show and started touching himself, which Josh enjoyed watching just as much as Drake enjoyed doing. More, in fact, because the guy was only five pumps before-

"...Did you just...?"

Josh was panting hard. He averted his eyes, but Drake could see shame and humiliation all over his face. For a moment, the young man just laid there because he didn't know what else to do. He felt embarrassed for Josh. He knew what sexual ridicule felt like and he didn't want the man to feel bad about it. He was a little irritated that he was unable to get off, but there were much bigger things to worry about right now. Josh's pride was severely wounded. Drake pushed himself up, then reached for his boxers and stepped into the legs.

"Sorry," Josh stuttered finally as he watched his guest redress. Apologizing made things feel even weirder if that was even possible.

"No, it's okay."

"It's just been...a minute," he admitted.

"Don't worry about it." The awkwardness was almost enough to sober him up. "Maybe I should eat after all if that offer's still..."

"Yeah, of course."

"That'll give you some time to recharge and we can go again later."

Did he want to go again? No. However, now there was a pride thing involved and things would feel awkward and uncomfortable until Josh redeemed himself. Drake was willing to let the man use him to do that. The hipster actually seemed surprised that his guest hadn't ran out on him. He was grateful that Drake was willing to give him another chance.

"Um, where's...where the bathroom?" the young man asked quietly.

"It's just right around the corner to your left."

"Thanks." Drake left him and isolated himself in solitude. After he cleaned up, he wasn't quite ready to go back out there to Josh, so he sat down on the edge of the tub and pulled out his cell phone. The first message was from "Ricardo." It was a long paragraph filled with more fucked up shit. "He" knew about Drake and Dahlia's break-up already because she had apparently changed her relationship status on Facebook to single. "Ricky" couldn't help but gloat and say how he wasn't surprised that she had dumped his sorry ass and he was surprised that it had actually taken so long. He told Drake not to go crawling back to him and to figure shit out on his own. Drake couldn't really blame him for that, he supposed.

He had a couple of messages from both Samantha and Brett. They were worried obviously and he didn't want them to think he was laying in a ditch somewhere choking on his own vomit, so he actually responded in a group message.

Drake Parker: srry i havnt res. ondrd in ok

Brett Monty: where r u

Drake Parker: w tjis friwns

Brett Monty: what

Drake was aware that his typing was shit. His vision was blurry and he couldn't press the correct buttons, so instead, he went through his contacts and called Brett, who answered after the first ring.

"Drake?"

"Heysorry. I'malildrunk. Sorry."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, Drake, it's Samantha." Apparently, they had him on speaker phone. "Where are you?"

"I'muh...withafriend."

"What happened?" asked Brett.

"Thingsgotawkward soI'mhidinginthebathroom untilIeat."

"What?" He seemed confused. "No, I mean, earlier today with Dahlia."

"Oh..." He was uncomfortable sitting like he was, so he carefully scooted back so that he was sitting in the tub with his feet in the air and his back leaning against the wall. "Yeah, youguyswereright. Shewasfucking ashit tonofotherguyssincethestartof ourrelationship. Literally herstudygroupnever even existed."

"Shit..."

"I'm so sorry she did that, Drake," Samantha said.

"S'okay." Despite saying this, he suddenly let go of a sob. Even though he was drunk, his heart was still aching and talking about it right now wasn't helping anything. He sniffled as tears fell down his face.

There was a pause, then Brett's voice came through. "Drake, why don't you tell us where you are?"

"I'minthebathtub." His voice cracked when he said this.

"Whose house are you at?"

Trying to get anything coherent out of a wasted Drake was an aggravating and impossible feat. Brett and Sam heard their friend curse, then there was a bit of commotion before they heard him vomit. This went on for a good minute or so before Drake's hurling dissipated into sobs and whimpers. The couple tried to get his attention, but he had dropped his phone in the process of getting to the toilet and he forgot all about it.

"Babe, look at this." Samantha held up her own cell phone, where she saw that Drake was posting Dahlia's dirty pictures on his Facebook page.

"What the fuck? Drake," he said into the phone, trying to get the boy's attention again.

"He's been on the phone with us. I don't think he posted these."

Brett's forehead wrinkled. "You think Dahlia posted these to make him look bad? She would do that to herself?"

"I wouldn't put anything past Dahlia anymore after this."

"He could get arrested for something like this." After a moment, Brett hung up the phone, then he called Drake back. Thankfully, the phone ringing attracted Drake's attention.

When he answered, he was trying to pretend he hadn't just been bawling his eyes out over a toilet. "Hey. Sorry, Ididn'tmeantohangup."

"Drake, listen," Brett started, "Dahlia is posting pictures of herself in her underwear on your Facebook account so that you look like an asshole."

"Hmm?"

"You need to go in and change the password and delete those photos right now." After a moment of silence, he said, "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

"Um...yeah..." Clearly, he didn't.

Brett sighed with frustration. "Give me your Facebook password."

"It's...Ican'tremember."

"Come on, Drake."

"Shechangeditwhen wegot together. Ineverhad to putitin. Italwaysjust cameuponmyphone."

"Can you still get in it from your phone then?"

The young man pulled the phone away from his ear and went to Facebook. Sure enough, he still had access to his page and the first thing that popped up was a group of photos of Dahlia half-dressed. Above them was a paragraph-long caption of "Drake" spewing hatred about Clementine and encouraging his Facebook friends to enjoy the pictures.

"Mmmthefuck? Did I...? Ididn't post these. Mmm," he groaned tiredly. "Holdon. Igottago." Before Brett and Samantha could protest, he hung up. He fiddled around his Facebook for a couple minutes, but ultimately came to the conclusion that he was way too drunk to remember how to delete photos. Drake pushed himself out of the floor, then stumbled into the kitchen, where Josh was standing in front of a convectional oven toasting two meatball subs.

"It's almost done," he said.

"Canyoudeletesomething?"

"What?" the boy asked with confusion, then he was handed Drake's phone. "What is this?"

"Canyoudeletethat? Iforget how."

"You posted these?"

"No, my exispissedand Ithinkshe'stryingto make me look bad."

"Damn." After a moment, he said, "Okay, they're gone."

"Changemy password, please."

"What do you want me to change it to?"

"Idon'tcare," he said. "What'syourmiddlename?"

"It's Leonard. I hate it."

"Usethat. Shewon'tguessthat," he said. "Howoldareyou?"

"Twenty-seven."

"Leonard27. Canyou writethatdown? I'llforget."

"Your ex is psycho," Josh said. "Does she know your security questions? She'll probably be able to get back in if she knows you well." Josh spent the next few minutes helping Drake fix his Facebook before anything worse could happen, then he gave the boy his phone back.

"Thanks. Sorry."

At that moment, there was a ding. Josh went over to the miniature oven and pulled out the subs while Drake opened the refrigerator in search of something to drink. His eyes immediately spotted the beer. He grabbed one and twisted it open.

When Josh turned, he saw this. "Maybe you should stop drinking for a while," he suggested meekly because he didn't want to come off as a bossy, judgmental prude.

"Oh. Sorry. I'mrude," Drake slurred, then he pointed to the bottle. "CanI havethis?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Weren't you just throwing up in there?"

"Ijustwanna getthroughtodayandthen I'llstopdrinking. Ipromise."

"Okay," he said. "You can help yourself to anything in the fridge. I got an extra toothbrush from the dentist the other day. You probably wanna brush your teeth, right?" If they were gonna try having sex again liked Drake had said, he definitely didn't want to kiss someone with vomit breath.

"Yesplease." Drake followed him into his bedroom and watched him search through some things on his dresser until he found the goodie bag from the dentist. "Thankyou. You'rereallynice."

Josh gave him a nod. "Toothpaste's in the top drawer under the sink. Actually," he added, "you don't mind if I hop in the shower really quick, do you? I took ecstasy back at the club and it's making me sweat." After Drake shook his head, he said, "You can go ahead and brush your teeth, though. I'll turn on the tv for you. I've got Netflix."

After Drake brushed his teeth, he met Josh in the living room. The young man knelt down in front of his backpack and unzipped it. His kittens were asleep, so he woke them by gently pulling them out of the bag so that they could stretch their legs.

"You brought cats..." Josh was dumbfounded when he saw them. Not that it was a bad thing, but this was definitely one of the strangest hook-ups he'd ever had.

"Yeahsorry. Thisokay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I just — that was the last thing I was expecting you to pull out of your bag." He glanced back at the television and clicked on Netflix.

I'msorry. I'mbeingsorude. I'mgonnafeelreally badaboutallthis tomorrow."

"No, it's seriously okay. I love cats," the man assured. "There're more meatballs in there if you wanna feed them, or — I don't really have cat food or anything."

"Thankyou. You'rereally nice," he told him again.

He was handed the remote. While Josh showered, the boy took him up on his offer of meatballs and allowed his kittens to eat and drink, then he grabbed another beer and turned on The Office.

---

Drake was on top of the hipster and he was moving his lips away from Josh's mouth and over his chin. He got lower and lower and maybe he was rushing a little. He was just so exhausted and it was a miracle that he hadn't passed out yet. Josh probably wouldn't need long anyway. Hopefully, he could hold out long enough so that it was believable when Drake faked it. Or maybe he could actually get him off this time. That would be nice.

Drake stimulated him orally, then the man got behind him and they went at it doggy style. Just like Drake had feared, he wasn't feeling any sort of pleasure. He was so tired that he couldn't keep that bored expression off of his face, so it was a good thing that they went about the sex this way this time.

Or maybe it wasn't Josh at all. Maybe despite everything, he didn't want to fuck anyone other than Dahlia. Okay, well, it was definitely partly Josh, too. He will for sure have to fake it.

As he waited for the right time, his eyes scanned the room. Josh was kind of messy, but it was a normal messy. He had a few Polaroid cameras on his dresser, which wasn't at all surprising considering what type of person he was. Honestly, Drake thought they were pretty cool and he almost said something about them, but he managed to stop himself just in time. He didn't want Josh to know he wasn't having as good of a time as he was.

As his attention moved to the walls, the first thing that he noticed was the giant elephant tapestry. That's pretty dope. Next, his eyes came across a frame. He couldn't see incredibly well in the darkness and in his drunkenness, but it contained a diploma of some sort. There was another picture frame nearby and Drake's heart dropped. It was hard to see, but there were two people and one was definitely Josh. He was kissing another guy at the beach. The young man squinted to be sure, then he looked around some more and saw two more pictures of the couple together.

Used to, he never would've cared, but now he knew what it was like to have an unfaithful lover. It was devastating. It was his karma, he supposed, that Clem had done that to him after he'd slept with a married woman, slept with a married man (probably several honestly), cheated on his first love with Charlie (metaphorically of course, but it still counts), slept with the love of his step-brother's life (multiple times) and cheated on his girlfriend with literally any guy who'd give him a few dollars. He was tired of being this person.

Josh furrowed his brows when Drake suddenly pulled away from him and got up. "What's wrong?" he asked, then he saw the boy put on his boxers. "Did I do something wrong?"

"I havetogo." Drake put his jeans on fast and was even shocked himself that he didn't fall.

"You weren't enjoying it?"

He picked up his shirt and belt and made his way into the living room with the hipster trailing right behind him.

"You're really leaving?"

"You didn't tellme youhada boyfriend." Drake got his shoes on and finally started to pull his shirt over his head as he searched for his cell phone.

"I thought you knew," said Josh.

"YouthoughtI knew?!" He was still incredibly drunk, so this sentence didn't make much sense to him. How was he supposed to know again? "Howthe fuck wasI supposedtoknow?!" Finally, he found his phone. Now he was able to go.

"I thought maybe Gemini would've told you." When Drake opened the front door, Josh grabbed his bicep. "Look, Drake, it's not what you think. We both-"

"Don't fucking touch me!" he snapped violently as he yanked himself free. He didn't give Josh time to say anything else before he hurried across the yard, down the sidewalk and out of view.

---

"Okay, thankyou," Drake said, still slurring his words.

"Where are you?"

"I'mliterally walkingupyour driveway." He put his phone away when the person on the other end hung up. When he got closer to the house, he saw the front door open, revealing Dee. "Hey."

"Are you okay?" the man asked as he allowed him to enter his home.

"Yeah. I'msorry. Thanksforlettingme stay. Ijust needaplaceto crash. Justfortonight."

"Shit, dude, how much have you had to drink?"

"Mmm..." He shrugged.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Drake as he plopped down on the couch with exhaustion. "Exceptmywhole lifeisfalling apart."

"Can I get you anything?"

"Nothanks."

Dee sat down next to him. "You wanna talk about it?"

Instead of answering, Drake said, "Pleasepleaseplease don'ttellRickyI'm hereplease."

"He's been really worried about you." Dee saw the boy roll his eyes. "No, seriously."

"Hejust messagedme onmywayhere tellingme hewishedIwasdead."

"What?" His brows furrowed. "No, he's literally been so upset about you being gone that he hasn't left the house."

Too tired to argue, Drake pulled out his phone and showed him the messages.

"What the fuck?" This confused Dee because 1). his boyfriend obsessed over Drake's well-being to the point where it was getting in the way of their relationship and 2). because Ricardo didn't seem like the type to talk to anyone this way. Maybe he didn't know his boyfriend as well as he thought he did.

"Sorry, Ishouldn'thave showedyou." He took his phone back and hoped that this didn't come between the new couple. "He'sareally good guy. Ideserveallthis honestly. It'sallthetruth."

"Damn, I can't believe he said those things." He hadn't had the chance to read much, but he saw where "Ricardo" basically wished him dead and he mentioned something about a truck stop and Drake being a whore.

"S'okay."

"So what brought you here?" Dee asked. He didn't mean it in a mean way. He just wanted to know what had happened.

Drake went on to explain the note Brett found, then about when he'd followed his fiancée and seen her with another guy. He went into detail about it because he hadn't been able to talk about it with anyone and the alcohol got him talking and talking. By the time he was finished, he was crying again and Dee had him in a half-hug as he rubbed his back.

---

The rush of vomit roaring up Drake's esophagus like a raging river is what woke him. It wasn't until mid-puke that he was fully aware of what he was doing. He was leaning over the side of the bed and hurling his guts out right there on the floor, only he wasn't back home at Dahlia's and he wasn't at the gay nightclub, which was the last place he could remember being. Instead, he knew where he was. He was in his bedroom...at Ricardo's.

Drake spat in the floor, then quietly cursed. "Fuck..."

Maybe this had all been one bad dream that he was just waking up from. Maybe he and Ricky and Julio never fought. Maybe he never moved in with Clementine. Maybe he never proposed to her. Maybe she never cheated on him after all. Obviously, this was all wishful thinking, but it would've been nice.

When Drake felt that he could hold back another round for a few seconds at least, he quickly got out of bed and bolted down the hall and into the bathroom. Julio must've heard him because, moments later, he pushed the bathroom door open.

"How much did you have to drink last night?" That was the first thing he said to him after having not seen him in a little over a month.

Drake was coughing and spitting into the toilet, so he couldn't answer him. Even if he could've, he couldn't remember how much he had drank.

Julio opened the cabinet and pulled out a pill bottle, the sound of which gave Drake a headache. He poured two of the Advils into his hand, filled a tiny paper cup with water, then passed them over to the boy. "Here."

"Thanks," Drake managed through his panting. He took the medicine. It took a lot of willpower to keep it down because swallowing pills always reminded him of Charlie and the sickening taste. "How did I get here?" He sounded like a lost child and it was pathetic in a way.

"You don't remember?" When his friend shook his head, he asked, "What's the last thing you do remember?"

"I was at this club."

"Oh, boy." Julio sat down on the edge up the tub, lowering himself close to his level as if he had bad news to deliver. "You don't remember going to Dee's?"

Drake's eyes squinted with confusion. "No." No wonder I ended up here. Why would I have thought that Dee wouldn't tell Ricardo? "God, I'm a dumbass," he said regretfully.

Julio couldn't stop a you-just-wait snort when he said, "Yeah." When the pitiful young man looked up at him with confusion, he asked again, "You really don't remember anything?"

"No," he said and he sounded almost scared. "I was at the club and this guy was loading me up on drinks and I think I gave him a blowjob and went back so someone else would buy me drinks. I don't remember anything that happened after that."

"Shit, Drake..." Julio said sadly. "Dee said you told him you broke up with Dahlia because she was cheating on you."

"She was," he said. "The whole time. Everything was a fucking joke to her."

"I'm sorry. Shit." Julio didn't know how to tell him this next news. "Dee said he was trying to comfort you because you were a wreck and you were crying. Do you remember that?"

"No," he said with frustration. He was beginning to weep again. "I don't remember anything."

"He said..." Sigh. "He said you kissed him."

"What?" Drake felt his heart drop.

"He said he pushed you away, but you kept trying to get him to sleep with you."

The hungover boy felt sick. Once again, he felt puke slide up his throat, so he turned back towards the toilet and threw up some more. He was full-on crying when he was done.

"Dee said you got kinda violent when he turned you down. You started breaking shit. He said he tried to get you to stop, but you wouldn't, so he eventually ended up having to hit you," Julio said.

Drake reached up and touched his eye. He had noticed that there was a sharp pain in it when he'd woken, but his mind had been so all over the place that he hadn't had time to really question it.

"He said you started crying really hard then, so he helped you over to the couch and gave you a blanket and he called Ricardo. You were asleep by the time he got there, so he just carried you to the car and brought you home."

"I don't remember," Drake said through his tears. "I didn't mean to."

"I know, but it happened. You did that and you can't take it back. My brother was really pissed and he and Dee got into it. He's just upset about everything."

"Fuck," Drake sobbed, hanging his head with shame. "He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Julio disagreed. "He's just very mad and very sad and very disappointed." Then he said, "You have to talk to him."

"He's gonna yell at me."

"Probably," Julio said honestly, "but can you really blame him?"

Drake wiped away some of the blurriness from his eyes, but the clear vision didn't last long at all. His friend patiently waited with him and stayed quiet while Drake worked through his racing thoughts.

After a full minute, his quiet, childlike voice choked out, "I don't want him to hit me."

Julio was honestly taken aback by these words. Ricardo almost never hit him. When he did, it was just the normal roughhousing that boys tended to do. He wondered what his friend had gone through while he had been away. Other than the black eye from Dee, Drake had a dark bruise on his jaw from when Clementine had gotten a couple good punches in. Julio also noticed a plethora of bruises stretching up his forearms. He knew that Dahlia was physically abusive towards him, which was one of the many reasons he and Ricardo had hated her.

"He's not gonna hit you," the young man assured.

"He's gonna beat the shit out of me."

"No, he won't. He's not like that and you know it."

"Maybe you just haven't seen him that way before, but I have." He brushed his fingers through his bangs. "God, I didn't mean to," he continued to weep. "I'm such a piece of shit. Why did I do that?"

"Are you into Dee?" Julio asked cautiously.

"No! I promise I'm not!"

"I told Ricky about what you told me that week you were staying with Gemini."

Drake sniffled. "What?" There was so much going through his mind that he didn't remember the conversation his friend was referring to.

"When we talked about you using sex as a form of payment and about Gemini's theory that maybe you needed to feel needed," he said. "And also about how you feel like men only hang around you because they wanna fuck you."

"Name one guy who doesn't."

"Me," Julio stated matter-of-factly. "Because I'm your best fucking friend and I don't expect you to do anything for me. I expect you to do things for yourself, like work on your sobriety and stay away from abusive relationships because you don't deserve that shit. The reason all these guys wanna fuck you is because you keep hanging out with a bunch of gay guys and you're an attractive guy. When it comes to your dad and our high school gym coach, you know, I don't know what the fuck they were doing honestly, but not everyone is like them, Drake," Julio said. "And the men you were fucking on the streets and at the truck stop only fucked you because you offered it, which, again, I truly believe spawns from shit that your dad and the coach did to you. Not everyone is out to get you, bruh."

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Drake whined. "Everything's so confusing. Sex is so confusing."

"Obviously, I can't imagine what you've gone through in your life and what goes on in your head, but I feel like — if you're sure you're not into Dee — then maybe you tried to fuck him as payment for letting you stay. The fact that you said you blew someone for a few drinks just before proves this theory. You were clearly in a mindset of manipulation in the form of sex. I feel like this is a very common thing for you."

"I don't mean to," the young man said. "I don't think I mean to."

Julio frowned and gave him a few moments of silence to cry and mull over these idea, then he said, "What are you gonna tell Ricardo?"

"I just wish I could go back."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to," he said again.

"I know."

Just then, they could hear raised voices from right downstairs in the kitchen. Worry flashed across Drake's eyes.

"Is Dee here?!"

"Yeah. They've just been trying to...work through some things."

Drake put his hand over his eyes with regret. "Fuck. I fuck everything up."

"You can try to fix this."

"I'll just make everything worse," he disagreed. "Just like I always do."

These weren't Drake's words, Julio noticed. These were Martin's words coming out through Drake. These were Dahlia's words poisoning his mind. These were tell-tale signs. Drake was about to have an "episode." That's what the Santos brothers always called them anyway. Episodes were vicious waves of self-loathing that tended to lead to panic attacks, relapses and suicidal urges.

"Shut up," Julio said. "Do not start spiraling. Look at me." When his friend did, he said in a more serious tone, "Do not start spiraling."

Drake nodded, "Okay." He sniffled and wiped his eyes although this didn't stop his tears. "Okay. I just need to...I just need to think."

He took a few breaths as an attempt to regulate his breathing, but the yelling emanating from downstairs wouldn't allow it. He couldn't handle being yelled at like normal people could. With Drake, verbal abuse was a huge trigger and there have been times when he had forgotten where he was completely and suffered through a vivid, realistic flashback of his life with his father. The second he saw Ricardo's face, he was going to crumble and he knew it. He was terrified just thinking about it. Even his fingers were trembling.

Finally, he spoke up. "I need-" He wiped his eyes, then sniffled. "I need to know everything I did last night before I face him. I need to look at who I was texting," he said. "I left my phone on the nightstand, I think. Could you get it, please?"

"Sure." Julio stood, then made his way down the hall towards Drake's room. His eyes immediately landed on the humongous pile of puke that was less than a foot away from the trash can they had left for their intoxicated friend. "Oh, come on, Drake. Damn," he said to himself. Julio didn't see the phone on the nightstand, so he checked the drawer, underneath the bed and around the pillows, but still he came up short. He made his way back to the bathroom to give Drake the news and have him check his pockets to be sure, but the second the turned that corner... "Hey, I couldn't-"

Drake was nowhere to be found.

---

Ricardo: -AND U ARE A STUPID PIECE OF SHIT AND I HOPE YOU DIE!

Drake choked out a sob, then he set the phone back down in the corner rack so that it wouldn't get wet underneath the running water. He didn't have shampoo or conditioner or soap or anything, but he didn't really smell anyway. Besides, after he got back out there, he could make enough money for that in no time.

He knew he needed to go back to being the person he was on the streets and he needed to act like he was into it. However, he couldn't get himself to stop fucking crying. If he could just stop his whining, he could make some money and then go get high. It's that fucking simple, Drake.

He didn't want to do this. He did not want to do this at all. He literally had no one left. Every single person hated him. He hated himself. He just wanted to die. Maybe "Ricardo's" suggestion wasn't such a bad one. That way, he wouldn't have to go back out there and degrade himself. He didn't have to let anyone touch him anymore. He didn't have to go hungry or cold. This was a dangerous way of thinking and he needed to steer away from it before he actually acted on those thoughts. That's why, after he turned off the shower and slipped his old clothes back on, he picked up his phone and called Dahlia.

She took her sweet time to answer. "What the fuck do you want?" she asked.

"Clem..." he cracked out pathetically. He had tried so hard to keep his voice steady, but it was impossible. Drake broke down into sobs. Although no one could see him, he hid his face in his hand and rested his forehead against the tile wall.

"You rung me so you could waste my time making me listen to you blubber away?"

He knew he needed to say something before she hung up, but he broke down. "I..." It was hard to breathe. He managed to get a hold of his voice long enough to get out an, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" She sounded disgusted.

"I'm so sorry."

"You're at the truck stop, aren't you?" she guessed. "You're only sorry because your life is absolute rubbish without me — just like I always told you it would be, mind you. You're a bloody hypocrite. You're the one who broke up with me because you couldn't handle the fact that I was just doing to you exactly what you did to me. You're the one who left. You did this and now you're standing there praying that I'll forgive you and let you come back home so you don't have to shag some strange old man for a few dollars and go buy those pills that hardly even work anymore. That's it, yeah?" She was spot on and he couldn't deny it.

"Yeah," he cracked. "I'm so sorry, babe. I'm an idiot. Please, take me back."

"Get lost, you lousy wanker."

"Clem, please. I'm begging you. I made a mistake-"

"Yeah, you do that a lot," she interrupted.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm such a fuck-up," he said. "Please, let me come home. Please, take me back."

Her voice was dripping with venom when she said, "Drake, I wouldn't take you back if you were the last guy on earth. We're over. Do you hear me? You ruined us. You did. Just like you ruin everything. You are a fucking cancer, Drake. You squeeze the life out of literally everyone around you. You destroy everything and you can't do anything right, you sodding cock-up."

As she shattered his heart into a trillion pieces, he put his trembling hand over his mouth as an attempt to keep himself quiet. He felt weak and he slowly slid his back down the shower wall until he came to rest on his bottom.

"What the fuck are you still doing here, Drake? What you did to Meelah wasn't enough? What about your mom? Or your dad? Or me? Name one person you haven't hurt. Go ahead. Name one."

He couldn't stop the sob from escaping his throat.

"You're good for nothing except making everyone around you completely miserable," she spat, "so why don't you do us all a favor and fucking kill yourself, yeah?"

He was bawling so hard that he couldn't respond. This was the second person in the past five minutes who had wished him dead. Never had he ever felt this undeserving of taking up the space of a human body.

"Just tell me what you want," he managed through his sobbing. "I'll do anything for you."

"Are you deaf?! I just bloody told you what to do."

Drake choked out more sobs and he couldn't stop them even if he wanted. They came with so much force that snot dropped from both nostrils. "Please," he begged, his voice high in pitch. "I love you. I love you."

"Goodbye, Drake. Don't call me again."

When she hung up, he dropped his arm onto his lap. There was no one else he could call. He had no more supporters. The streets were all he had left and that wasn't a life he wanted.

---

"I'm sorry, bro," Julio said for the hundredth time that morning. "I can't believe I fell for that. I should've known better."

"It's not your fault," Ricardo assured as he gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze. "You're sure he didn't mention anyone or anywhere he might've gone to?"

"No, I just told him what he did and he got really upset and he was scared that you were gonna beat him up."

"Why would he think that? I would never do that."

"Are you sure about that?" Dee said suddenly. He had been here all morning trying to talk through the issues that he and his boyfriend were having, but things were still unsettled. "Drake showed me the Facebook messages you sent him."

"What messages?" both Julio and his brother said at the same time.

"The ones where you called him a whore and told him to go kill himself."

Julio's head whipped towards his brother, who looked just as surprised. "What?"

"I never said that."

"He showed me. I read them with my own eyes, Ricardo."

"I never said that!" He pulled out his own cell phone and opened up his messages to Drake for proof. "The last thing I sent was, like, a month ago." After double-checking the date, he said, "Yeah, a month ago on the dot, and I tried to make amends." He held out his phone, but Dee didn't take it.

"I know what I saw," the man said. "I didn't think you were that kind of person."

"I'm not!"

"It just doesn't make sense because you've literally been obsessing over him the entire time he was gone. I get that you're worried, but he's a grown man and, every time I'm with you, I can tell you're thinking about him," Dee said. "The night I met you, you were really drunk and you told me you slept with one of your guy friends. Was it Drake?"

There was a hesitation, then Ricardo said, "Yes. Look, I know how it sounds, but-"

"So it would make sense that you got mad and sent those texts if you were jealous of that other girl."

"I'm not jealous of Dahlia!" He was in disbelief that this was even a topic of conversation.

Dee had a quieter and more serious tone of voice. "Are you in love with Drake, Ricardo?"

"No!" he denied sincerely. "He's just my best friend and I care about him. You have no idea what he's been through and what he's capable of doing right now."

"Then tell me!" Dee pleaded. "All I want is to be able to talk to you!"

"I want to — believe me, I want to — but I can't tell you this and I need you to understand that."

The man sighed sadly. "We've only been dating for two months, so I know that I'm not higher up on your priority list than your friends right now, but you make me feel like I'm not a priority at all — like I mean nothing to you."

"Babe, you mean a lot to me," Ricardo tried. "I've just been going through so much shit right now."

"Then open up to me," he begged. "That's what I'm here for."

Ricky was quiet for a moment as he contemplated his next move. He had a tough decision to make and only seconds to make it. Telling Dee about Drake's past would piss Drake off, but not telling him would piss off Dee. He was going to lose someone here. He just had to choose: Dee or Drake?

His voice was somber when he said, "I can't."

Dee didn't respond right away, so maybe he wouldn't leave. It would be a shame if he did and Drake didn't return because then it would mean that Ricardo had lost two very important people. He wished he knew where his friend had gone. He could be literally anywhere right now doing literally anything. He wished he had a secret tracker on him so that he could keep up with him at all times.

With that thought, he suddenly remembered something. His demeanor immediately changed to urgency and it was like he forgot about his current conversation with Dee completely as he stood up and made his way to the kitchen with a quiet, "That's it."

The other two looked on with confusion, then followed him.

"What's it?" Julio asked.

"Drake asked me a while ago to set up his phone so that I could always see his location."

"He did?"

"Yeah."

"Why would he do that?" Dee asked.

"Because he..." What was he supposed to say? Because Drake wanted him to know where he was in case he relapsed so that he could drag his ass back home and force him to clean up before he sucked some stranger's dick? "He just did."

Julio saw Dee roll his eyes as if his point had, once again, been proven. His brother was blowing this and it was hard to watch. However, he just wanted Drake back, too, so it was probably worth it.

"I found him!"

"Where?!" Julio asked.

"The fucking truck stop."

"Lemme get my shoes really quick." Julio went back to the living room.

"I guess you're going then," Dee said.

"I'm so sorry. I just have to pick him up, but if you wanna wait here, I'll be right back," Ricardo said. "Or I can call you and we'll get together to finish talking."

The man shook his head. "Don't bother."

"Dee..."

Julio entered the kitchen just in time to hear his brother's boyfriend say, "I hope everything works out for you." Dee gave Ricardo's hand one last squeeze, then said, "Bye." When he turned and noticed the youngest boy standing there, he said, "Tell Drake I'm sorry I hit him," then he was gone.

Julio stayed still and kept his eyes on the floor for several moments. When he finally looked up at his brother, he could tell that he was heartbroken. "I'm sorry," he offered.

Ricardo didn't respond. Instead, he grabbed his keys and headed out the front door.

---

Mrs. Hayfer was irritated by the time her husband Garrett finally came out of his tractor and got in her car. "It took you long enough. Should I go check and see if you've got another one of my former students hiding in there until I leave?"

He sighed. "When are you gonna get over that? I've told you a thousand times how sorry I was. Besides, you heard what he said. It was his fault and he didn't really give me a choice."

"He said that because he was scared of you."

"Why would he be scared of me?"

"Are you serious? Do you not remember what you did — how you humiliated him?"

"Yeah, well, he deserved all that."

"You're an asshole," she said as she put the car in drive.

"Stop by the bathroom. I've gotta take a leak." Then he tried, "How have you been?"

"The past three days have actually been rather peaceful without you there," Alice said bitterly.

They were on the verge of divorce and he knew it. Honestly, they had been on the verge of divorce for a long time now. It's a wonder that they had lasted so long.

"That appointment we have with the marriage counselor is this week, right?"

She kept it short. "Yep."

"You think he'll ask about Daniel."

Daniel is their son...was their son. He had passed away eight years ago at the age of twenty-two.

"Probably," Alice replied.

They said nothing more until they reached the restrooms. Garrett said he'd be right back before disappearing inside the men's room. It was filthy and long overdue for a good cleaning. He would've believed that it had been abandoned had it not been for the toilet paper and paper towels being refilled. He never once saw an employee, though. As he approached the first stall, he saw what looked like piss all over the floor. The next one had urine all over the toilet seat. He didn't understand how people could be so gross. Garrett skipped the next stall due to it being occupied and the one after that looked like it was clogged. There was no toilet paper in the next one, but that was okay because he just needed to pee. Just before he stepped inside, his eyes moved over to the left when he heard some sort of quiet sound. The truck stop bathroom was pretty dim due to half the bulbs being blown and piles of dead bugs in the fixtures. Because of this, it took him a few moments before he noticed a hand hanging out of one of the showers.

Garrett made his way down there, then hung back a bit and asked, "Hey, everything okay in there?" He didn't receive a response. "Hey," he said louder. "Are you okay?" He kicked the hand that was creeping underneath the shower curtain and still got no reaction. Garrett was unsure about what he should do. He didn't want to open the curtain because the person might get mad if he's unclothed, but it could also be one of those junkies who always hang around the truck stop. The man squatted down and gripped the stranger's wrist, then checked for a pulse, which he found to be dangerously faint. "Shit! Hey!" he tried again, then he slid open the curtain.

He recognized the face immediately despite the black eye and large bruise on his cheek. It was his wife's former student. What was his name? Derrick? Drew? Whatever. It didn't matter. He was surprised to find him here. Alice had told him that he'd cleaned up. He definitely looked rough. He had bruises all up his forearms and his clothes were partially damp because the shower floor was still wet due to recent use.

"Hey, boy." He gave Drake's shoulder a shake, then he did it rougher. "Kid? Can you hear me?"

The young man remained unresponsive. A bright orange color caught Garrett's eyes as he searched around for — well, he didn't know what he was looking for. It was a pill bottle. He picked it up and read the bottle. They were muscle relaxants and the entire bottle was empty.

"Shit!" He immediately pulled out his cell phone and dialed the police. After giving the dispatcher his location and a quick summary of what his emergency was, he hung up, then went outside to his wife, who looked like she was about to say something snarky and accusatory about the length of time he'd been gone. He beat her to the punch. "Hey, you know that kid who was in your class? He took a whole bottle of muscle relaxers and he's passed out in the bathroom."

"What?"

"I think he tried to kill himself. I called the police already."

"Is he breathing?" Alice got out of the car and hurried after him.

"I don't know. I didn't check. His pulse is very faint, though."

When Mrs. Hayfer saw him, she said, "Oh my God! Drake! Drake!" She leaned closer to his mouth.

"Is he breathing?"

"He's breathing. Come on, Drake. Wake up." She patted his cheek. "Wake up." She gradually got harder and harder, but nothing was fazing the boy at all. Finally, she gave him a hard smack and he actually came to. "Oh, Drake, there you are! Stay awake, okay?"

He looked up at her with tired confusion. "No. Leavemealone." He started pushing her away, but he was too weak to really do anything.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" she scolded.

"Justgoaway."

"An ambulance is on the way," Garrett said.

"Goaway."

"You need to make him throw up," the man told his wife.

"Go! Away! Justleaveme!" He said and it was clear that his chest was bothering him in some way. He took in a breath after his outburst and clearly struggled quite a bit, then he said, "TouchmeandI'llbiteyourfuckingfingersoff."

Alice looked back at her husband. "How long did they say it would take to get here?" She got a clueless shrug as a reply.

"Justlemmego. Pleasejustlemmego." He was back to being unable to hold his eyes open.

"Stay with me, Drake! You hear me?!"

"Mm-mmmmmm." His no turned into a moan as he drifted off again.

"Drake?" She shook his shoulder as tears found their way to her eyes. "Drake!"

"Oh, shit..." Garrett brushed his fingers through his hair nervously. "I don't think he's breathing."

Alice leaned over to check this and discovered that her husband was correct. "Oh, fuck." She got onto her feet and started tugging Drake's arm. "Help me get him out! Help me get him out!"

The man helped her drag him out of the shower, then she got Drake on his back and started chest compressions. After several pumps, she opened his mouth, encircled his lips with her own, then breathed into his lungs.

"Come on, Drake!" she said as she went back to compressions. Tears were trailing across her cheeks like waterfalls as she began having flashbacks about Daniel, the son she hadn't been able to save. "Come on, Drake! Wake up!" She breathed into his mouth again. "Come on. Come on!" She kept going like this for another minute and a half, then Drake finally drew in a breath. "Oh, yes! There you go! There you go!"

"The color's coming back," Garrett said with relief.

"Where is the ambulance?!" She was still frazzled as she pulled Drake's head into her lap and cradled it.

"They should be here soon." He was trying to calm her despite his own hands trembling. If he had to pee before he came in here, now he really had to go.

As the minutes passed a small crowd of about three other men gathered and offered assistance and comfort. Garrett filled them in on how he had found him and what he had taken. The conversation actually helped him feel much better, but it wasn't long before he heard his wife's frantic voice again.

"Drake? Drake? Hey! Breathe! Hey! Come on!" Within seconds, she was performing CPR once again. After a full two minutes passed, she was sweating and exhausted and her husband noticed this, so he stepped in.

"I got it. It's okay. I got it." He was heavier and his compressions were much more forceful. He wasn't even five pumps in when everyone heard the distinct sound of a rib cracking.

"Damn, man, that's too hard!" someone said.

"They're supposed to break," came from another guy.

"Have you been counting?" Alice asked. "You stop after thirty so I can breathe into his mouth." When it was her turn, she performed the rescue breaths, then her husband continued. "Come on, Drake! Wake up!"

When she gazed down at her former student, her eyes were so blurry that he almost looked like her son Daniel. It was like she was having déjà vu. She's been here before. She's attempted CPR before. She failed before. She wasn't going to fail this time. She refused to let another young man lose his life to suicide. Drake had so much to live for. Daniel had had so much to live for.

Four minutes had passed and Drake was still unconscious with no pulse and no breathing. Alice heard a man behind her whisper to a fellow bystander, "He's gone. He's not gonna make it."

She cried harder at this. She didn't even like Drake. She'd never liked Drake. However, Mrs. Hayfer had never wished him dead. Well, maybe for a split second when she'd found him with her husband, but it wasn't Drake's fault and that was something she was still having to remind herself every morning. He had been through so much. He had survived life with his father, a horrible, abusive, drunken monster who had nothing better to do than torture his young son. He had stood up to a man he feared more than anything and he had defeated him. Drake had wanted to live so badly, whether he knew it or not, that he had killed the man who had given him life. He'd suffered through all of the cruelty and bullshit and he'd survived only to end up here now. She couldn't begin to imagine the demons that had been haunting him his entire life, but now he was giving up and she hated him for it. Now he wanted to die so badly that he swallowed every last pill in that bottle and hid in the shower at the truck stop, where no one should've seen him. Death was after him and Death has been after him for a very long time. He escaped his dad. He got through the money situation back at the hotel with that thug named Dev. She didn't know what else, but she was sure he'd been close to death other times due to his risky lifestyle. Finally, Death was cashing in. He was coming to collect.

"Where is the goddamn ambulance?!"

"I think I hear them!" One of the onlookers dashed for the entrance. It was another minute before he returned with two paramedics, who quickly assessed the situation and asked questions.

"Prepping the AED," one said while the other took over the CPR.

While this was going on, Ricardo's car was approaching the turn into the truck stop.

"Oh, shit, look," Julio pointed when he saw the flashing lights.

"Fuck..." Ricardo felt his heart free-fall into his stomach. He knew they were for Drake.

There was only one ambulance and one police car present, which probably meant that whatever had happened had just happened and they were early. That's what he hoped anyway. After they parked their car, they managed to get inside the bathroom because the officer was so busy with crowd control in a direction were a large group of truckers were standing. There weren't too many people inside — maybe five or so. They pushed their way to the front of the bystanders and that's when they saw Drake on the floor. The boy's body jerked as he received his first electric shock from the defibrillator.

"Oh, shit..." Julio said.

"Julio Santos?" came an unsure voice from behind him. When the two brothers turned, they saw Mrs. Hayfer, their former teacher. She was still crying and clinging onto Garrett.

"What happened?" Ricardo asked.

"My husband found him. There was an empty bottle of muscle relaxers beside him. I did CPR and he came to, but then he stopped breathing again. I couldn't get him to breathe. I'm so sorry."

"How long has he been like this?"

Garrett spoke up because he saw that his wife was too broken up. "Maybe six or seven minutes."

"Fuck," came out of his mouth again.

Drake's fingers and lips were blue and his body jerked limply with each chest compression. One of the paramedics used some sort of hand pump to push air into the unconscious boy's lungs, then they gave him another shock. Still nothing. They did another round of compressions.

Julio was crying as he watched helplessly. Upon hearing him, Ricardo grabbed him and pulled him against his chest tightly so that he couldn't see his dying friend. He heard Mrs. Hayfer whispering fervently behind him and made out enough of her words to know that she was praying.

The third shock was just as unsuccessful as its predecessors. It was a race against the clock. If they couldn't revive him soon, he would become completely brain-dead.

As the CPR continued, one of the onlookers whispered to another, "I know that kid. He sucked my dick for ten dollars before. It'd be a shame if he doesn't pull through. He gives great head."

Garrett heard him and gave him a shove and a death glare. "Be respectful," he told him, then he nodded his head towards Drake's two best friends, who were a complete mess as the boy laid there with no heartbeat.

"Come on, kid," one of the paramedics said. "This one's it." He had hope in his voice. He pulled back so that his partner could press a button on the AED, then his eyes moved straight to his chest. "He's breathing," he announced.

An eruption of cheers and sighs of relief came from the crowd. Julio weakly dropped onto his knees and his older brother followed him, still clutching onto him with all of his might.

"Get that oxygen mask on him."

"It's okay," Ricardo soothed as he rubbed circles into Julio's back. "He's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay."

Mrs. Hayfer reached down and squeezed the younger boy's shoulder to offer support as she whispered praises into the sky.

---

Author's Note: I wanna say thanks to locokat and the guest who reviewed. I agree. Clem sucks. Sorry this chapter took so long. I hit a couple writer's blocks. I'm excited about the upcoming chapters just because I got so tired writing about Clementine. I never even planned for him to move in with her, but it just happened in the moment. Let me know what you think of the chapter and where the story's going and if it even seems to be going anywhere at all. Hope your summer's going better than Drake's did in Charlie Freak. CCC ya.