Julio paced back and forth in the waiting room nervously. It was empty other than Ricardo, Mrs. Hayfer, her husband and himself. He had chewed his thumbnail down to the stump, so instead of ruining another nail, he swiftly sat down in the chair next to his brother.

"Something's wrong. It's been three hours and they haven't told us a goddamn thing."

"He's gonna pull through," Ricardo said. "They're probably just monitoring him to make sure there are no sudden changes."

Julio rested his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair with his head hung guiltily. "I'm so fucking stupid! I shouldn't have left him alone! I'm such an idiot!"

"No, you're not," the man argued. "Drake is a master of deception when he wants to be."

"And I knew that! I should've seen through his lie. So fucking dumb."

Ricardo pulled him into a hug and let him cry.

Alice's heart was broken. She had been through this multiple times before and she knew first-hand how hard something like this was on loved ones. She gave her husband a look letting him know that she was moving, then she sat down on the other side of Julio. Mrs. Hayfer lifted her hand and rubbed the boy's back. "It's not your fault," she said, agreeing with Ricardo.

"What do you know?" Julio said, prompting his older brother to flash her an apologetic look.

"Eight years ago..." She cleared her throat, then glanced at her husband. It was something that they never spoke of, yet here she was, sharing the hardest day of her life with a former student. "Eight years ago, my son Daniel passed away by suicide."

Julio sniffled. "Shit, I'm sorry," came his muffled voice. "I didn't mean to-"

"I know. He'd attempted it twice before. The third time was the one that finally got him. He was twenty-two. He had been sad for a really long time. I spent a lot of that time in denial. I didn't understand, but after the first attempt, I tried to form a closer bond with him. I still never understood him and I think he knew that." She had silent tears running down her cheeks. "After he took his own life, I was devastated. I blamed myself. I obsessed over everything I could've done wrong and almost drove myself insane. It wasn't until later that we found his suicide note on his computer. One thing he wrote was that it wasn't our fault and that he was really sorry for the pain he was causing. He felt like he was the problem."

Julio pulled away from his brother and turned in his seat to look at her as she sniffled and wiped the water from her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," her voice cracked, then she managed to get her composure back. "You're right. I don't know what's going on with Drake and what exactly he felt at the time, but I really don't think you had anything to do with his choice. I don't think he blamed you. I think he blamed himself. I think he blamed himself for a lot. I think he would've done what he did regardless of whether you left him alone for that one minute or not. I think this was something he was going to do all along. He had the pills ready." She placed her hand on top of his when she saw that her words had given him some sort of peace.

At that moment, a doctor whose nametag read Dr. Sarkov approached and caught their attention. "Are you with Drake Parker?"

The group stood and Ricardo nodded his head, then urgently asked, "How is he?"

"He's alive," the man said and this received several sighs of relief. "We had quite a struggle. He went into cardiac arrest two more times since his arrival, but we got him back and we pumped his stomach. There were a lot of drugs in his system and it was a miracle that he survived."

Ricardo pulled his brother closer and offered him a small, encouraging smile.

"Unfortunately, there is some bad news. Mr. Parker is currently in a comatose state and there's no telling how long that will last or if he'll even manage to wake up from it. Although we have him stable right now, his chances of survival are about fifty-fifty and the odds of him making a full recovery are even lower than that, I'm afraid."

"W-what do you mean?" Julio asked.

"When the brain goes without oxygen, cells begin to die within minutes. This means that if he wakes up, there is a high possibility that he might have permanent brain damage."

"Brain damage?" Ricardo said, his worry evident.

"It could range from mild to severe and it may be long-term or even irreversible. It could affect several things: his memory, motor functions, speech, personality. It's possible that he could be in a permanent vegetative state if he wakes up, both physically and mentally."

Again, Ricky pulled his brother closer when Julio's crying started back up.

"However, it's best to remain positive and not lose hope," Dr. Sarkov said. "There's always a possibility that he could pull through and be just like he was before. I was told he was immediately given CPR before the paramedics arrived and that can decrease his chances of lasting brain damage." He was looking at the Hayfer's because he assumed that they were Drake's parents. "You should talk to him. There have been cases where patients wake up from a coma and report having felt love and support."

"Can we see him?" Ricky asked.

"Only family is allowed to visit at this time unfortunately."

"We are his family," Julio argued.

It was obvious that Dr. Sarkov doubted this because Ricardo and Julio were Hispanic, so Garrett spoke up. "I'm Drake's father. These are my sons from a previous marriage."

"Very well. We can only allow two at a time in the ICU."

"You boys go ahead," the man said.

The doctor started down the hall, leading the way to Drake's room.

"Thank you," Ricardo said and he received a nod in return.

"That was very kind of you," Alice said to her husband when they were alone, then he pulled her closer to him and gave her a squeeze.

He had no words. Months ago, Drake had meant absolutely nothing to him. Garrett didn't even look at him like he was a person. He had just been a sex object to him and now he felt bad, but could you blame him? Drake had presented himself as a sex object. When he looked at the boy now, he saw the people who cared deeply for him and he saw his severe mental illnesses. He was a person who had dropped everyone for drugs — who had slept with men two and three times his age to smother the emptiness. He was a person who had felt so low that he had been willing to give up everything — his caring best friends, his future, drugs even — to silence the dark thoughts once and for all. He was a person who was a real human being and now he was on the verge of death. It was like his son all over again. Ricardo and Julio were so young and Garrett hated that they had to suffer through this. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy, much less those kind boys.

"I didn't mean to blow up on him that time," he finally said. "I was just angry, but I was angry at myself and my own stupidity. I just took it out on him. I publicly ridiculed him because I couldn't own up to my own mistake."

Despite the endless number of I'm sorry's that had spouted from his mouth, Alice noticed that this was the realest her husband has been since she'd caught him with Drake.

"Do you ever just look at your students and think about what their futures will be like? That one's gonna commit suicide. That one's gonna be a lawyer. That one's gonna run for president. That one's gonna get addicted to drugs and fall into prostitution."

"Sometimes, but usually they're all positive things. I focus on their potential."

"What did you think when you saw Drake in your class? What did you think his future would look like?"

Alice thought for a good minute. "I thought he was going to be in for one harsh reality check when high school was over. Turns out he didn't need one. He lived with one every weekend."

*FLASHBACK*

"And it's not just his grades, I'm afraid." Mrs. Hayfer was sitting behind her desk. She wasn't smiling, but she was enjoying every minute of this; Drake could tell. "His behavior inside this classroom has been unacceptable."

Although Drake kept his head low and pointed away from his father, he knew the man was glaring at him.

"It's something everyday with him. There are frequent classroom disruptions and he consistently disobeys instructions. He's become such a disruption to my other students that where he's sitting now is his permanent seat for my class."

Drake was sitting in a desk that touched Mrs. Hayfer's desk and was away from where the rest of the students sat during the school day. Martin was next to him in a chair the teacher had pulled up for him.

"Another thing that has been out of control lately is the foul language. If he's not swearing at me, it's at another classmate or at himself when he's struggling with his work and I don't tolerate that in my classroom."

The man's eyebrows lifted with shock, then lowered with anger. "He cusses at you? You cuss at your teacher?" he asked his son before Mrs. Hayfer could respond.

"I've had to send him to the office twice this week already. Drake, would you like to tell your father about the incident that happened today?"

He said nothing.

His father spoke up, scaring him into submission. "She's talking to you, Drake."

"She sent me out of class because I didn't understand the assignment."

"You refused to do it," she said. "You wadded it up into a ball and threw it in the trashcan."

"Because you wouldn't explain it to me," he argued.

"Because I had already explained it, but you chose to text during my class rather than pay attention," was her rebuttal. She then opened one of her desk drawers, pulled out a cell phone, then set it down on her desk. "Here's his phone back, by the way."

Drake reached for it, but Martin got to it first.

"Drake, why don't you tell your father what you called me when I took your phone?"

The young man was still looking away from the adults like he had been, but he could feel his dad turning in his chair, glaring daggers into him as a challenge. "I'll let you tell him," he said with clear attitude and disrespect.

"Jared Drake Parker!" Martin scolded.

He collapsed under the pressure, but he managed to keep his cool vocally. "I called her a fucking cunt."

"You what?!" His eyes were bulging out of his head.

Alice swore she saw the boy flinch. She spoke up. "And that was just today's insult. Tell me, Drake, do you spend your entire school day coming up with these so that you can unload them in my classroom? That would explain your grades."

"Fuck you."

Martin was astonished. "What the hell's the matter with you?!"

She definitely saw him flinch this time.

To Mrs. Hayfer, he said, "I apologize. Audrey and I did not raise him like this."

"I understand. Some students fall out of line. You know what that means, Drake?" she said. "It means you're gonna have a hard road ahead if you don't straighten up."

"That is absolutely right," Mr. Parker said. These words were all the confirmation Drake needed to know that he was in for a beating when they got home.

The student's heart sank. "This is such bullshit."

"Excuse me?! You are grounded, young man. No phone, no car, no computer and no tv for two weeks."

"Whatever."

"Whatever?! Alright, let's make it a month. You wanna try your luck for two months?"

"You can't ground me, Dad, because you're never even around except for on the weekends."

"Well, I'll let your mother know the grounds of your punishment."

"She's not home either. She actually has a job, unlike you."

Martin had been pushed too far and it took everything in him to keep from snapping his neck right then and there. "Okay, well, since your mom's so busy, you'll come and stay with me for the next two months. Okay? How about that?"

For the first time during this parent/teacher meeting, Drake's head shot up and he made eye contact with his father. He was filled with terror and it showed. His voice wasn't so brave anymore. "No..."

He shushed his son with a simple wave of the hand as if he was swatting at a fly. "Is there anything else we need to discuss?" he asked Mrs. Hayfer. After she said there wasn't, Martin said, "Okay, well, I'm about to have a long talk with Drake and I'll fill his mother in on everything we talked about. I appreciate you setting up this meeting for us and, please, call if my son gives you anymore trouble after today, but it won't happen again, will it, Drake?" He clenched his jaw when his son ignored him and repeated, "Will it?"

"No."

"No what?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Now apologize to your teacher."

His voice was quiet. "I'm sorry."

"Look her in the eyes, boy, and speak up," Martin demanded. "Apologize like you mean it."

Drake felt so small when he met her gaze. "I'm sorry for being a bad student."

"There are no bad students — just bad choices," Alice said. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Drake?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. I hope to see you tomorrow with a whole new attitude, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a defeated voice.

Martin stood, then shook Mrs. Hayfer's hand. "Thanks again for inviting us. Come on, Drake."

The boy stood, his head hung. He followed his father out the door. Everything in him was telling him to turn back, run to his teacher and tell her everything that was about to happen to him. She wouldn't care, though. If it were any other student, she would, but she wouldn't care if it was Drake.

"I can not believe you embarrassed me like that!" Martin quietly hissed when they were further down the hall. "I swear to God I'm gonna bust your ass the second we get home. You're fucking dead. You hear me?"

He was so incredibly fucked.

"You're gonna stay with me for the next month. How do you like that?" the man said as he angrily shoved the front door open and stomped toward his truck. "And since you didn't seem too bothered about me taking away your electronics, I'll take away your comfort privileges, too. You'll be staying in the basement and out of my fucking sight."

Drake felt his eyes water over at that. "No..." he begged.

"You're gonna sit there and think about what you've done and how much trouble you're causing your family. And you're on food restriction. The only time you'll be eating is when Megan comes over on the weekends."

"You can't do that!"

"You wanna fucking bet?"

"I'll die."

"God, I hope so. That would be nice."

"That's not fair!"

"Fair?!"

Mrs. Hayfer was looking out her classroom window, where she saw the father and son approach the man's truck. Martin had turned his head towards the boy sharply. Alice couldn't hear him, but it was obvious that he was raging due to the frantic arm waving and pointing. Drake stood there and took it with his head down and his left arm clutching his right bicep. Moments later, Martin gave his son a mighty smack. It was so powerful that it had the boy reeling. That's what Drake needed: a good slap in he mouth, the woman thought. Maybe he was too old for spankings, but he wasn't too old for a hard slap and a belt whooping. He needed his mouth washed out with soap, too. That's what her parents had done to her when she'd cursed in front of them.

Drake clutched his stinging cheek as he nodded along to whatever his father was saying. Another minute passed before Martin motioned towards the truck and commanded him to get in. The young man flinched at the sudden wave of his dad's arm, then he obeyed orders.

*END FLASHBACK*

Dr. Sarkov gestured the two young men inside. "I'll give you boys some time."

Ricardo thanked him, then followed his brother into the hospital room. This was such a familiar thing for them now. They'd visited Drake in the hospital countless times before, but this one was different. This time, he might not make it out and if he did, he might not be the same Drake.

They heard the consistent beeping of the machine first, then they saw him. He was laying motionless. There were wires all around him, which were hooked up to machines that monitored his well-being. He looked like he was asleep, but he wasn't; he was comatose. They couldn't wake him from this.

Ricardo touched his shoulder gently while Julio pulled a chair up next to the bed. "Hey, Drake," the older one said softly. "It's Julio and Ricky."

Julio noticed his brother address himself using the nickname Drake always called him by despite how much he hated it.

"We're here for you," the man said. "It's not time for you to go yet. You hear me? You can't go yet. We need you back at home. The house is so much quieter without you. We need you to pull through this and come back to us." To lighten the mood, which is something Drake usually did and would've done had he been awake and aware, Ricardo said, "Besides, neither of us can cook anywhere near as well as you."

Julio let go of a small chuckle as tears formed in his eyes. He sniffled.

"It hasn't been the same without you," Ricardo continued. "I come in from work and I don't hear It's Always Sunny on the tv and it doesn't feel like home without you there." He brushed Drake's bangs away from his eyes, which remained closed. "We love you and miss you and we need you to make it through this so you can come back home."

He stopped talking after that so that his brother could say something encouraging. However, Julio leaned forwards in his chair and hung his head. Moments later, Ricardo could hear him take a quivering breath in, then a strangled sob left his throat. He put his hand on the boy's back and rubbed it. This went on for a couple minutes before Julio was finally able to speak through his crying.

"I shouldn't have told him about what he did last night," he said with regret in his voice. "I just thought it would be better if he knew what he was about to walk into. I didn't want him to go downstairs and face the consequences without having time to digest them."

"Hey, it's not your fault." Ricardo squatted down so that he was closer to eye level with his younger brother. "What you did was good. Dee and I were fighting all morning and things might've taken a turn for the worse had Drake come down there not knowing what was going on. He probably would've had a panic attack."

"But at least he'd still be alive."

"He still is alive! You have to have hope."

Julio lifted his head and met his older brother's eyes. "Look at him! Does he look alive to you?! He's a fucking vegetable!"

"He's gonna wake up. I know it. You just have to be positive."

"Okay, then what happens if he does wake up and he's completely paralyzed? Someone's gonna have to stay with him all the time. He'll have to be spoon-fed. He'll have to be bathed. Someone will have to change his fucking diapers."

"We're gonna get through this," Ricardo assured. "All three of us. Somos-"

"Somos un familia. Yeah, I know. You've said it a thousand times before."

"Julio...look at me." Ricardo stared into his eyes and when he spoke, his voice was serious. "He's gonna be okay. He will get through this. We will get through this."

Julio opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden movement in his periphery caught his attention. For a moment, his heart jumped with excitement, for he thought that Drake had woken up. Instead, he was still out of it, but his body convulsed uncontrollably. "Shit!"

Ricardo turned back to the hospital patient. He, too, cursed, then ran out of the room and called for a doctor.

"Oh, shit!" Julio stood, but he moved no further. He wanted to help his best friend, but he didn't know how. He wanted to leave, but his feet were glued to the floor. He stared on helplessly as Drake had a seizure. Julio's breathing picked up, but he didn't feel like he was getting any air. His hands shook next to his side.

"They're coming," came Ricardo's voice from behind him.

"What's happening?" the scared boy asked.

A group of doctors and nurses rushed in and surrounded Drake. "We need you to go back to the waiting room," one said.

"What's happening?" Julio said a bit louder than the last time.

"Please, we need you to clear the room."

Amongst the swarm of doctors and nurses, someone said, "He's asphyxiating. Get him on his side."

"What's happening?! Drake!"

"Sir, you must clear the room."

Ricardo wanted to stay, too, but he knew that they would only be a distraction, especially with his brother's many questions. "Come on." He grabbed Julio by the shoulders, then guided him out of the room. "He'll be okay. They're taking care of him." He pulled the shaking young man into a hug and held him while he sobbed. "He'll be okay," he assured, but now he wasn't sure if he believed it.

It was a while before a doctor had approached the anxious group and let them know that Drake was stable again. They wanted to run a couple tests on him, so he wasn't allowed visitors at the moment. Julio seemed to have calmed down after they were told that Drake was still alive. However, he could tell that his brother wasn't doing so well despite his positive facade. For the last hour, he'd been hunched over in his chair with his nose pointed to the floor and his hands holding up his head. He hadn't spoken a word. It was obvious that he was trying to stay strong for Julio. If he cracked, the young man might lose hope. However, it wasn't fair that he had to hide his own emotions, but even if Julio told him that he had every right to be upset, too, Ricardo still wouldn't show it. For this reason, the young man had done the only thing he'd been able to think of: he'd texted Dee.

When he saw him stepping off the elevator and looking around to determine which direction the waiting room was in, Julio said, "You guys wanna go to the cafeteria and grab food?"

Alice saw that Julio wanted to give his brother some alone time with the guy heading their way, so she stood, her legs stiff. "Yeah, sure. Come on, Garrett."

"Ricardo, we'll be back. I'll bring you something." He didn't get a response, but he didn't expect one. On his way out of the waiting room, he greeted Dee. "Hey, thanks for coming."

"Of course. I'm sorry about Drake."

The second Ricardo heard his voice, his head lifted. At the entrance of the room stood Dee. The man got onto his feet and the second his ex started moving towards him, he broke down. Dee wrapped his arms around him and Ricky clung back as tears left him. They stayed like that for a long time.

Visiting hours were over at ten, but Ricardo had insisted on staying. He wanted to be close in case there were any sudden changes. Mr. And Mrs. Hayfer left after exchanging numbers with Julio, then Julio and Dee convinced Ricardo to go home and get some sleep.

Dee pushed Ricardo's bedroom door open, then gently closed it behind him, careful not to spill anything off of the tray he was carrying. "I think your brother might already be asleep. I tried knocking on his door," he said quietly, then he made his way over to the bed. "I made some grilled cheeses."

Ricardo didn't make a move to grab the food. Instead, he continued laying where he was with his back turned to the man.

"Come on." Dee rubbed his bicep. "You need to eat something."

Despite the softness of his voice, it wasn't a suggestion and Ricardo knew that, so he sat up. He still said nothing and Dee said nothing and that was okay. Instead, they both picked up one of the four grilled cheeses and took a bite. Ricky's bites were small and it took him longer to make it through his first sandwich because he felt a sickness in his gut. Before he started his next one, he finally broke his silence.

"Thanks for being here."

"Of course," he said. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't know that he would...that he would do something like this."

"This is his third time," Ricardo admitted quietly and his eyes watered over. "He came so much closer this time than the ones before. His heart stopped four times. He wasn't planning on waking up from this one. Maybe he won't."

"Hey, that's not true. He's gonna wake up and he's gonna make a full recovery. I've prayed for him and I had the prayer team at my church pray for him. He's gonna pull through. I know it."

"I just don't understand why he would do this," he cracked out, then he started crying again.

"I know." Dee pulled the man's head onto his shoulder and petted his hair softly as he wept. After a moment, he moved the tray with the one grilled cheese that was left, then he laid down and pulled Ricardo close. He held onto him tightly and kissed the top of his head. "Everything's gonna be okay," he promised. "Just try to fall asleep. I have the alarm set, so we can get up and go back to the hospital the second visiting hours begin. He'll be fine, babe."

Dee had been right. When they got to the hospital the next morning before the sun, they had received great news. Drake was no longer comatose and was beginning to respond to some things. He was able to follow a flashlight with his eyes, but when the doctor had held his hand and asked him to squeeze it, he failed to do so. Even still, Dr. Sarkov assured the three boys that he was making progress. Only two were allowed to visit Drake at a time, so Dee stayed in the waiting room. When it was time for the nurses' shift change, they had to leave the room for an hour, so the three boys grabbed a late breakfast, then Dee headed home to take a nap before work after promising to check in.

The two Santos brothers were back in Drake's ICU room. Dr. Sarkov had suggested playing something that the patient liked, such as his favorite music or movie, so Ricardo had Hulu up on his phone and was streaming It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia while he and Julio played Go Fish.

"Got any threes?"

Ricardo shook his head, so Julio drew from the deck in between them. The older brother asked for a nine, got one, then set his pair down in front of him. "Got any fours?"

"Nope." Julio pulled out his phone when he heard it ding.

Ricardo drew a jack. He had a jack in his hand, so he set the pair down. "Who's that?"

"Mrs. Hayfer's asking about Drake." Julio set his cards face-down on the table so that he could type faster and more accurately. When he was done, he said, "It's my turn?"

His brother nodded.

"Mmm...got any...jacks?"

"No. Just laid them down." He pointed to his newest pair.

"Damn." He drew, then read the text he got from Mrs. Hayfer. "She said she can come sit with him if we wanna grab a late lunch so Drake doesn't have to be alone."

Ricardo looked at the clock. It was past breakfast and he wasn't incredibly hungry. "I guess I could eat if you wanna get something."

After Julio replied back, he said, "That's really nice of her to offer. Her and Drake always hated each other. She's saved his life, like, what — twice now? Drake's about to hate her so much more when he finally wakes up."

"Well, I'm glad she was there when she was — her and her husband. Without them..." He didn't finish this thought, but his gaze moved towards Drake's closed eyes and Julio knew what he wasn't wanting to say.

"I just can't believe he did this again."

"I know," Ricardo agreed. "You ever do something stupid like this and I'll kill you myself."

Julio was battling his own demons and suicide was something he thought about from time to time. However, he never put those ideas into action and now after seeing Drake like this and knowing that he may never make a full recovery, he never would. The bad thing about killing yourself to escape your problems is not succeeding and then ending up with even worse problems.

"I won't," he vowed. He could never put his brother through this again. He would never wish this kind of pain on anyone.

Ricardo looked back down at his cards. "Got any eights?"

Ricardo pushed open the door to Drake's room and found Mrs. Hayfer sitting next to the boy's bed and using the food table to grade her students' homework on. She looked up when she heard the door open.

"Anything new?" he asked.

"Nope, no changes."

Ricky noticed her begin to stack her papers and said, "You don't have to be in a rush to leave. Julio's on his laptop in the waiting room catching up on homework."

She nodded. "How's he holding up?"

"Better now that Drake came out of the coma. I think he googled coma statistics and really freaked himself out."

"And you?" Alice asked. "How are you?"

He was quiet for a moment because he had to think about it. How was he? He'd spent so much time worrying about Drake that he hadn't had much time to think about anything else. "As well as I can be, I suppose. You?"

"I don't really know how I feel," she admitted. "I think I just feel a lot of guilt."

Mrs Hayfer thought back to the many times Drake had sat on his leg or knee at his desk because his father had torn him up so viciously with a belt that his skin on his bottom and legs were raw and covered in welts. She recalled the times he had repented after she'd told him about her decision to call Mr. Parker. Once he'd even begged her not to.

*FLASHBACK*

"I know it was irresponsible of me and I'm sorry," he said. "Please, please, don't call him."

Her response: "Why? You're scared he'll make you stay in all weekend instead of letting you go out on dates and to parties or whatever it is you waste your time doing when you should be doing the homework I assign?"

"I'll stay after and I'll sit right there and complete it right now," was his offer.

"No, Drake," she said with exhaustion in her voice. "You had three weeks to work on this project. Three weeks. That's plenty of time. This was twenty-five percent of your grade. You realize what that means, don't you? It means the highest grade you can get in my class is a seventy-five, and that's if you had a one hundred before this, which you don't. You're gonna fail this class, Drake."

He didn't give up. "Just give me an hour and I'll do it for half the grade." A fifty was still an F, but it was something.

"You're getting a zero, Drake, and that's final."

Drake sat down in his desk so that he was closer to her level. "You're gonna fail me?"

"You're gonna fail you."

The young man looked down at his desk and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "My dad's gonna kill me."

For a moment, Mrs. Hayfer thought she caught a glimpse of his eyes and they seemed to glisten with tears. "Why didn't you do your project, Drake?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Was it laziness?"

She was right; he did know. He didn't do his project because he didn't understand it. He sucked at math and he had fallen so far behind in her class that it was impossible to catch up. Every time he turned around, his father was calling him names: stupid, dumbass, idiot, retarded, etcetera; and Martin was right. Drake wholeheartedly believed these things to be true about himself.

However, he repeated himself. "I don't know."

She waited for him to elaborate more, but he didn't, so she opened one of the drawers on her desk, pulled out her purse, then rummaged through until she found her phone. "You can talk to him with me and explain to him that you don't know why you didn't do your project."

Drake's head jerked up at this. "No."

She reached into another drawer and pulled out a list of phone numbers that belonged to the parents of the students who misbehaved most. Martin Parker was at the top of the list.

"Mrs. Hayfer, I know I really fucked — I mean...shit! I mean..." Both of Drake's legs were bouncing up and down...up and down...up and down. "Come on, please, don't call him. Can you call my mom instead? Just this one time, please?"

"When I call your mother, neither your behavior nor you grades improve."

"They will this time, I swear."

"You made your bed, Drake, and now you have to lie in it."

The young man hung his head and closed his eyes when he saw her dialing his father's number. She clicked the button for speaker, then placed the phone on the desk in between them. Drake felt sick to his stomach when he heard that first ring. He prayed that his dad wouldn't answer. He prayed that Mrs. Hayfer would let him off the hook just this once. Prayers never seemed to work for him, though — not when he was up against Martin Parker.

"Hello?"

Drake could immediately hear the loud television in the background. Fuck! The football game's on. Interrupting the game would make this ten times worse.

"Mr. Parker?"

"Yes, who is it?"

Drake could tell he was drinking. There was a slight slur in his voice, but he didn't think that it was strong enough for someone who didn't know his voice well to pick up on it.

"This is Alice Hayfer, your son's math teacher at Belleview High School."

Martin cleared his throat then and they could actually hear him sit up straighter on the couch. After a moment, the sounds from the football game ceased. "Hey, what's going on?" His voice was more formal now.

"I have Drake sitting here with me and we wanted to talk to you about his latest issue."

"Issue?" the man repeated. There was anger coming through already.

"Go on, Drake," Mrs. Hayfer prompted.

He knew he'd better speak up. He was already on thin ice after the parent/teacher meeting from two months ago. "Um, hey, Dad," he tried to start casually. This felt strange because he'd never tried to speak casually to him before.

"What did you do, boy?"

"What? N-no. Nothing."

"Exactly," Alice said. "That's the problem. Tell him what you didn't do."

Drake met her eyes and he expressed a desperation she had never seen in him before. It was just a quick flash of weakness, then he hung his head again. "I didn't complete my math project," he admitted.

Mrs. Hayfer chimed in. "You didn't just not complete it. You neglected to even begin it."

"Are you kidding me, Drake?" Martin said sternly. "Are we really going back to doing this kind of bullshit?"

"Dad, you're on speaker."

The young man hardly finished before his father exploded. "I don't give a shit, Drake! This is the fifth goddamn phone call I've received from your school in two months! I'm fucking sick of it!"

"I'm sorry," he said meekly. He was embarrassed that Mrs. Hayfer was hearing his dad talk to him this way.

"I don't understand why we're even sending you to school if you're gonna cause more trouble than you're worth! Huh?!"

Drake wasn't sure what the question was, so he just quietly muttered, "I don't know."

"You don't know?! What? Speak up! You have no problem talking during your science class, but when you have to speak to me, you go silent!"

Drake swallowed with fear, but his throat was dry, which made him cough.

"Are you listening to me?!"

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Parker, if I may break in here," Mrs. Hayfer said, "before we get too far into one topic, I'm afraid Drake has more bad news." She motioned for the boy to speak.

Drake wished that he were dead. He prayed for a giant piano to fall on top of him and crush him. Anything would be better than facing his father's wrath. "She said she was gonna flunk me."

"What?! I thought we just had a lengthy discussion concerning your grades, Drake!" 'Discussion' meant 'beating' in this case.

"I know and I was trying-"

"It doesn't sound like you were trying!"

Alice spoke again. "He had three weeks to do this project and it was twenty-five percent of his grade. Every single one of my students completed and passed with at least a C — everyone except for Drake."

There was a sigh on the other end, then silence. That's not something Drake ever heard from his father before. This was going to be really bad. "Is there any way he could turn it in late for a lower grade?"

"I'm sorry. That's not possible."

"What's his current grade in your class?"

"After adding in this zero, it's gone down to a twenty-two."

"Goddamnit, Drake." There was another brief pause. "And there's nothing he can do to make up for it? No extra credit or anything?"

"No, it wouldn't be fair to my other students who did take the time to work hard on their projects."

"Drake, your mother is gonna be so disappointed in you. Do you hear me?"

"I know," he said and he even sounded disappointed in himself.

"What do you think your punishment should be? Hmm?" When he didn't receive a response, he exploded, making his son flinch. "I'm talking to you!"

"I don't know," the young man said defensively.

"Well, let me tell you. You're grounded. Four months. All the way until the end of summer. No phone, no tv, no car, no friends, no electronics, no guitar, no leaving the house, no anything. When you get home today, I'll have a belt waiting for you."

Drake lost it at this. A quiet sob left his lips, so he hung his head and attempted to get himself under control. However, he continued to weep.

"Does that sound good?" Martin said.

"No," the helpless boy whined.

"No?! You want more?!"

"No!" he pleaded.

"I'm gonna talk to Walter today about you staying with me this summer instead of going with them on vacation to your aunt's lake house. This way, I can watch you and I'll know for certain that you'll be doing nothing but sitting around regretting how childish you've acted this school year. You've really showed your ass and you've been an embarrassment to your mother and I. Now you have to face the consequences of your actions. Does that sound fair?"

He knew that he would get yelled at some more if he disagreed. His voice cracked when he spoke. "Yes, sir."

"Good. You come straight home after school. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now Mrs Hayfer, is there any way that Drake can graduate with the rest of his class this year or will he have to stay behind and repeat the twelfth grade?"

"Actually, there is a test he can take. We don't offer summer school, but I can set him up with a tutor, which will work out perfectly if he is staying with you over the summer break. Towards the end of July, he can take an exam and if he scores high enough, he can graduate."

"Do we have to pay for this tutor?"

"No, it's a program where students who are interested and who have the grades can sign up to earn college credits — the kind of students who always go above and beyond in everything they do."

"See, Drake, why couldn't you be like those kids?"

When the young man realized that he was actually waiting for an answer, he pitifully said, "I don't know."

Drake was still weeping when Mrs. Hayfer got off the phone with his father. He kept his head down with shame and covered his face with his arms. He was humiliated that he was crying in front of his arch nemesis and the fact that he couldn't stop made it even more embarrassing. He wasn't incredibly audible. His tears were silent other than the frequent sniffles he had to do so that snot wouldn't fall onto his desk. Two minutes went by like this, with Hayfer leaving him in peace, before the door to the classroom opened suddenly.

"Oh, oops, am I interrupting something?" Her name was Marybeth. She was this extremely attractive girl who Drake had hit on despite the fact that she had a boyfriend.

"Shit," Mrs. Hayfer heard Drake whisper under his breath as he wiped his damp eyes.

"We were just finishing up," she said when she saw the young man grab his backpack and stand. "Come on in, Marybeth."

She approached the desk and in order to spare Drake's dignity, she said nothing about seeing him cry. Mrs. Hayfer stopped him before he could leave.

"Drake, I hope you've learned a valuable lesson today."

Too scared not to be polite, he replied with a meek, "Yes, ma'am," before leaving her classroom.

*END FLASHBACK*

Alice couldn't even begin to imagine the hell he had gone through when he got home that day. Drake wasn't the first student to cry when she called home, but it was extremely rare. Most kids liked to pretend they couldn't care less. Drake was usually one of those kids, but that day had been different. She wasn't sure if the boy had stayed with Martin for the entire four months, but she doubted that Mrs. Parker would part with her son for that long, especially since she definitely wouldn't be able to see him when she was gone on vacation. Even still, any time he spent with that man was undeserved. His beating must've been brutal because the phone call took place on Friday afternoon and Drake didn't return to school until Thursday. How could she have been so blind? She had just assumed that he'd gotten sick over the weekend. When he walked into her classroom Thursday, he wouldn't even look at her. He kept his head down, he kept quiet and he did his work for the first time in a long time. This is the way he behaved during the entire two months he had left until summer. He didn't speak to anyone, he didn't cause disruptions and he always turned in his work on time. He would come into her classroom looking rather depressed, but that was to be expected when his father had taken away everything that had given him joy. Little did she know that, around this time, Drake had been forced to give his gym coach fellacio and he and Meelah had split up soon after. Alice had had no idea and she never would fully know what he'd been going through at the time.

The last time she saw him was on the final day of school. He had started coming in looking like a hot mess: dark eyes, sunken cheeks, a permanent frown. It had somehow slipped past her, but thinking back on it, he was probably constantly drugged up at this point. She could tell by looking at him that he dreaded spending his summer with his dad. She hated this kid so much that, somehow, all of the obvious signs — she just missed them. It was right in front of her and she hadn't seen it. That was the last time she had seen him until many years later, she'd walked in on him masturbating for her husband for a few dollars.

Finally, she spoke quietly. "I could've prevented so much." Her voice cracked and her eyes became blurry with tears.

She thought about all of the sexual abuse he had endured from his father. It had become such a normalcy for him that finally, when he had the chance to get away from all of that, he physically inserted himself in a place where people viewed sex as a form of payment. He had learned that that's all anyone wanted from him — that that's all he was good for. Alice should've been the teacher who taught him otherwise. Instead, she had been impatient with him and she had made him feel ashamed when he didn't understand something. No wonder he relied so heavily on his body to get by. Everyone had basically told him that his brain wasn't worth shit.

"I knew his dad was hitting him," Ricardo admitted softly. He wanted Mrs. Hayfer to know that she wasn't the only one who had failed the boy. "Drake asked me not to say anything, so I didn't, then one day, I got this phone call at four o'clock in the morning. He didn't say anything. He was crying and I just knew. I rushed over there and found him locked in the basement. He had been beaten so badly that a few of his bones were broken. I took him to the hospital and again, he begged me not to say anything. And I didn't. A little over six months later, his dad almost killed him." His voice was somber as he recalled this dark time in their lives. "I met him at the hospital and he was in so much pain. I stayed with him the whole time and watched him suffer through it. When the police came in to ask him questions, I learned about the sexual abuse. I'd never felt so sick before in my life."

Mrs. Hayfer was saddened by his story. She reached forward and gently gripped Drake's hand in hers and when she did this, he turned his head away from her.

"S'cold," he whined, his eyes still closed.

Alice and Ricardo's head jerked towards him.

The woman stood and placed her free palm on his cheek. "Drake? Hey, Drake?"

"I'm gonna find a doctor." Ricardo hurried out of the room.

"Drake, can you hear me?"

"M'so cold," he mumbled again. "It hurts."

"What hurts? Hey, what hurts?"

"It hurts!" He yelled it this time.

"Tell me where it hurts, honey."

"Mom — Fuck! Fuck! Please make it stop!"

"It's gonna be okay," Alice soothed, petting his hair.

However, Drake continued to scream obscenities. It wasn't much longer before Ricardo ran back into the room with some of the staff in tow. Mrs. Hayfer joined Ricky so that they were out of the way while Dr. Sarkov shined a light in his patient's eyes and asked him to follow it. He then asked him a few questions like what Drake's name was and where he felt pain. Instead of responding to any of this, the young man continued screaming, so the doctor motioned his okay to a nearby nurse, who injected something into the boy's IV. Within seconds, Drake stopped yelling and he seemed to be asleep.

"What did you give him?" Ricardo asked.

"Something for the pain. Don't worry. I know it looks scary, but this is good. He's becoming more and more aware and he spoke and even moved a bit this time. He is making progress."

Ricky nodded his understanding. "Was that morphine?" When the doctor confirmed this, he said, "Could you not give him that again? He has a drug problem and he's requested before to only be given something with a low addiction risk and to only be given it when completely necessary. It should be in his files."

"Sure, I'll take a look."

"Thank you."

"And could we get him some more blankets?" Mrs. Hayfer chimed in. "He complained about the cold."

"Of course."

The room cleared out until the only people left were Ricardo, Alice and Drake. The teacher went back to her original spot and looked at his vitals on the screen next to the bed.

"What were you doing when he woke up?" the man asked.

"I just held his hand," she said. "I think he thought I was his mother. He called for her." She gently brushed his bangs out of his face. "The last time I saw him, he said they weren't on speaking terms. Is this still true?"

"Yes, ma'am. He ran into his ex girlfriend's parents and they wrote her new address down for him, but he refused to look at it."

"Do you think he'll ever go?"

"I think he will, but I think he's waiting for the time to be right. He wants to make progress, I'm sure, rather than show up more messed up than he was when he left her."

"I don't think she'd mind. I'm sure she just misses him," she said. She would give anything to see her son again. She didn't care what state he was in as long as he was alive.

"I've tried to tell him, but he says he's not ready," Ricardo said. "It's more than facing his mom again. Drake has a three-year-old daughter who he's never even seen."

"What?" Her voice was full of surprise.

"He left her and her mom behind and last he knew, they lived with Mrs. Nichols. You may know her. Her name's Mindy."

"No, I don't think I know her," she said. "Maybe if I saw her face, I'd recognize her."

"I don't remember her last name, but I think you set it up where she tutored him that one summer."

Mrs. Hayfer turned her gaze to him. "You mean Mindy Crenshaw?!"

"That's her name," Ricardo remembered.

"That doesn't make any sense. They hated each other. She was dating Drake's step-brother. She had a baby?"

"Yes, ma'am. I was only able to see her once, but she was beautiful."

"I wonder if that's why she never comes back to visit me. Usually, there are one or two students every year who stop in for a visit. I always thought she would be one of them."

Mrs. Hayfer was hearing everything that Ricardo said, but she found it all so hard to believe. Never in a million years could she see Mindy and Drake together. Or maybe it wasn't all that unbelievable. Maybe Mindy, like Mrs. Hayfer, had never really given Drake a chance. Alice had seen a side of her former student that he had never shown back in her class. Maybe when Mindy had spent the time tutoring him, she'd seen it too. He wasn't the person Alice had always thought he was. He had so much more to offer, but he kept that hidden behind these invisible walls that his father had built for him. It's like he had spent his entire life trapped and he never realized that he could walk right through those walls because they weren't actually real.

Alice had many questions and Ricardo seemed willing to answer them for her because without her, Drake would've been dead. Like Julio had stated before, she's saved his life twice now. She was involved and she deserved to know.

"What happened between Drake and his mother?"

"She found him laying in the middle of the road one night. He was high as a kite, so she got him to her car. I don't know what happened exactly. Drake doesn't fully remember. He tried to get out, but she wouldn't let him, so he grabbed the steering wheel and they wrecked. Mrs. Nichols was in a coma for a few days and when she woke up, she couldn't feel her legs. She was bound to a wheelchair when she got to go home. Drake got released from the hospital before she awoke from the coma and he was right back in the same day. That's when Mr. Parker attempted to end his life. He was welcomed back home with open arms, but Drake had been involved with these really bad people for a while. He owed them a lot of money, which he didn't have. These guys — they broke in and held his family at gunpoint while they beat him. They were going to kill them all, but Walter — he had been unconscious on the floor, but he woke up and took them to the bank and paid them off, then he made Drake promise never to return and he's kept that promise."

"Jesus..." Alice whispered as she looked at the sleeping young man. "So he came to you?"

"Not exactly. He stayed with this horrible guy who kept him drugged up so that he could fulfill his sick fantasies he had about being in a relationship with Drake. Drake let him do it because he had a steady supply of drugs there. After I found out he had been kicked out of his mom's house, I looked everywhere for him. When I found him, he was so far gone that I didn't think I would ever be able to bring him back. It was a struggle, but he cleaned up and he's stayed with me and my brother ever since. Well, until he moved in with Dahlia."

"Dahlia?"

"His on-again/off-again girlfriend. She's a manipulative sociopath. She treated him horribly and he let her because he was head-over-heels in love with her. She put him down, called him names, hit him, and he never stood up for himself. I've been trying to convince him for years to get professional help with everything he's had to deal with and he finally agreed after his two-month relapse, when you brought him home. He and Dahlia made up and he spent the night with her the night before his appointment. He called the next morning and said he wasn't going. We got into this huge fight and he ignored my message when I tried to apologize. One week later, I got on Facebook and found out that he had proposed to her. I don't know what happened. Dee said Drake told him she had been cheating on him the entire time they were in a relationship. I tried to tell him a long time ago, but he never listened and I never had proof. I wish I would've tried harder before things got to this point."

"So he did this because she broke his heart?"

"I don't know," the man said. "There was a lot going on. I was mad at him about something he did when he was drunk. He didn't remember it the next morning, but when my brother clued him in, he ran off before I got the chance to talk to him. A couple hours later, we ended up here."

Mrs. Hayfer approached the question with caution. "What did he do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He tried to sleep with Dee," the man said. "Dee and I spent that entire morning arguing. When Drake woke up, Julio told him what he'd done. I was so angry. I was gonna yell at him. Drake knew that, so that's why he ran."

"You had every right to be mad," the woman said when she heard the guilt in Ricardo's voice.

The fact that he even felt guilty in the first place completely puzzled her. She was learning a lot about Drake today. Not only had he seduced her own husband, but he also slept with his step-brother's girlfriend and he'd tried to have sex with his best friend's boyfriend. She didn't understand how someone so broken up about his fiancée's infidelity could go on to ruin other relationships the same way someone had done to his.

"I think I know why he did it, though, so...I don't think it was really something..." He was unsure how to word this without making it sound like Drake was manipulating him like Clementine had done to Drake. "It's part of why I really wanted him to get professional help. He's...just so confused about some things. He thinks men only give him attention because they wanna sleep with him and for the most part, I guess that's been kinda true. He felt like he owed Dee something in return for his kindness. When Dee pushed him away, Drake lost it. He saw it as a failure on his part — like he..." This probably wasn't making any sense, so he tried to offer up a bit of backstory. "It turned out that the person he thought cared about him the most — that being Dahlia — never actually loved him and he never meant anything to his dad, the person who should've cared about him more than anything. I think having Dee say no to him was like having another person tell him he's worthless and the fact that Dee said no when the sex was supposed to be a form of payment, like something he had to do, a legality — I think that made Drake feel even more, like...useless, in a way." He didn't know why he had gone into so much detail and he probably shouldn't have, but he didn't want Mrs. Hayfer to think of Drake as a guy who would normally go around sleeping with his best friends' significant others. "I know it sounds crazy, but I know Drake. He never would've purposely hurt me like that."

What Ricardo said made sense, but at the same time, Alice wasn't so sure that she believed his last sentence. This was because of her own experience, though. Although she was here and she wanted to see Drake pull through just as much as anyone else, there was still bitterness in her heart because of what he'd done with her husband. Maybe she was wrong; maybe she wasn't, but if Ricardo was correct, then she hoped Drake got the help he needed before he ruined someone else's relationship and life.

"He's not a bad person," Ricky said. "He just makes a lot of wrong choices and he has to learn to live with them."

The pain shooting through Drake's rib cage is what woke him. When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but a bright white color. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the light everyone always talked about. Any minute now, he would see Meelah. However, he waited and waited and she never came for him. Maybe he wasn't completely dead yet. Maybe he was caught in that place in between. That would explain why his ribs hurt so goddamn much. Maybe he should stop using God's name in vein now that he was here. There's probably a strict rule against that or something.

Despite the horrible pain jolting through his abdomen, he felt at peace. Finally, he could-

Beep.

Drake's head tilted ever so slightly towards the sound.

Beep.

There is was again. In an instant, he knew. He knew where he was.

"No..." It came out as a whisper, but the next time, he was louder. "No. No, no...no!" He touched the top of his left hand and felt the IV. "No!" He ripped off the tape and pulled the needle out of his skin, then he pushed himself into a sitting position. The pain in his chest was so excruciating that he let go of a scream. He felt wires attached to his torso, so he snatched them away and the circle-shaped stickers tore off of his skin. His vision was blurry and he still couldn't see anything but white. On top of that, he heard more frantic beeping, like alarms going off. All of this disoriented him. He pushed his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, but immediately fell, his knees colliding against the cold, hard floor. He clutched his chest and let go of a sob as he pushed himself up. He was so weak that he had to remain hunched over and use his free hand for support. He took his first step, then another, then another. "GAAAHHH!" he screeched when the catheter caught him. He was on the ground again. He doubled over as tears found there way to his eyes.

"Get him up," someone said, then Drake felt himself being grabbed.

"No! No!"

Two men lifted the boy back onto the hospital bed, but he continued to fight them.

"You're gonna have to restrain him."

Suddenly, his leg was grabbed and he was no longer able to kick with that one. "NO! NO! NO!" While he was focused on keeping his other leg free, his right arm was taken. "NO! NOO!" He was sobbing now.

They had him strapped down pretty quickly and he was unable to move.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GOOO! I JUST WANNA DIE!" He could feel someone's hands turning his head forwards and firmly holding it there before he was blasted by a bright light. He was terrified and not being able to move was giving him flashbacks. "DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME! FUCKER!"

A new voice could be heard now. "What the fuck are you doing?!" There were loud stomps, then, "Get the fuck away from him!" The voice was much softer now. "Hey, hey, it's okay. It's me. It's Julio."

Drake could feel the restraints loosening enough for him to pull his hands free.

"Listen to me. Just calm down okay? I won't let them do that to you again. Just breathe, okay? Just breathe."

When the patient sat up so that he felt less trapped, Julio wrapped his arms around him. Drake clung to him tightly, his hands trembling wildly as he bawled into his friend's shoulder.

"Shh, it's okay," Julio soothed. "Everything's gonna be okay."

"I wanted to die," he whined.

"I know."

"Just let me die."

"Please stay calm so they let me stay in here with you."

Drake was scared of what they would do to him if he was alone, so he stopped screaming and just cried into Julio's shirt.

"I'm sorry," Drake quietly said to the nurse as she put his IV back in. He wasn't sure who he had done it to, but he definitely punched someone pretty hard in his struggle.

"It's okay." She offered him a warm smile. "We're glad to have you back." She then nodded at Julio to let him know he could move back to his former spot. "The doctor will be in shortly to ask you some questions." After that, she was gone.

Julio took a seat on the bed carefully so that he didn't disturb his broken ribs. He was quiet for a moment as he stared at the floor, then he looked up at him and hesitantly asked, "What happened, bro?"

"You weren't supposed to find me," Drake said. "How did you find me?"

"Mrs. Hayfer's husband found you. They're the ones who saved your life."

"Why can't everyone just let me go?" He said it almost as if he were speaking only to himself, but Julio gave him an answer anyway.

"Because it's not your time yet."

Suddenly, the door burst open and Ricardo came in panting and sweating. "Sorry, I just saw your text. I was walking Mrs. Hayfer to her car."

Drake turned his head away from him.

"How are you feeling?"

The young man jerked away when Ricky rubbed his bicep. He left his question unanswered. Ricardo looked up at Julio with confusion and his brother seemed to be just as clueless.

"Are you in a lot of pain?"

Still nothing.

"Drake?"

"Just fuck off, okay?"

Again, the two Santos brothers shared a look of bewilderment and puzzlement.

"Are you okay?"

His voice was hard and emotionless. "Do I look like I'm okay?"

He's right. That's a dumb question. "Can I get you anything? Do you need me to do anything? I can fix your pillows if you're not comfortable."

"Can you leave?"

Ricardo took a sharp breath in and furrowed his brows. His voice was soft. "What?"

However, Drake didn't repeat himself.

"I don't understand."

"You know what you did."

Julio looked at his brother questioningly, but Ricardo was clueless.

"What do you mean, Drake?" When he didn't get a reply, he said, "Did I do something to make you upset?"

"Just go," the boy said.

"I don't un-"

"Leave!"

Drake had tears in his eyes, which matched Ricardo's. The man was hurt. He had no idea why he was being shunned like this, but he didn't want his friend to get worked up when he should be resting, so he gave the boy the space he demanded. He didn't say anything as he walked out the door, but the second he was out of the room, his tears fell down his cheeks. He felt lost. He had no idea what he could've possibly done to deserve this. Instead of going back to the waiting room, he made his way to a nearby restroom and locked himself in so that he could get a grip on himself in private.

"How is he?" Ricardo asked eagerly when his brother came into the waiting room.

"He's fine. They're doing shift change, so they kicked me out for an hour." Julio plopped down next to him. "Bruh, what the hell did you do to Drake?"

"I didn't do anything!" he said defensively.

"I've never seen him act like that before. Not to you."

"Me neither."

"They said he might have brain damage when he woke up. Do you think it's because of that? Maybe he thinks you're someone else or he thinks you did something?"

"Is that a thing?"

"I don't know, but something's wrong. Even when he gets mad at you, he would never have the guts to talk to you like that."

"Well, he did during our big fight," Ricardo said. "Maybe that's it. Maybe I said something then that really hurt his feelings."

"I said a lot of shit, too, though. We all did."

"Maybe I said the wrong thing."

"I don't think that's it."

"It has to be. That's the last time I've talked to him until just then when he kicked me out of his room." The man leaned forwards in his chair and rested his head on his hands. "I said so much shit that I don't really even remember it. I was just so angry at the time."

Julio put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up about it now. Let's grab lunch and when we get back, I'll talk to him."

Ricardo sighed, but he sat up. "Alright."

Drake was asleep by the time Julio was allowed to go back into his room, so the young man sat in the single chair, rotating back and forth between scrolling through Facebook and flipping through the same twenty channels on the television. It was exhausting being here again. They were just here two months ago when Drake had been assaulted by some guy he owed forty dollars to and somewhere in between then and now, Ricardo had told him about another hospital bill he had received while staying with Dahlia. Drake had to have the worst credit out of everyone Julio knew. At the young age of twenty-one, the boy probably owed tens of thousands of dollars in hospital bills alone...if not hundreds of thousands. This was like Drake's home away from home, yet, for Julio, sitting in this chair never got any easier.

Suddenly, he heard a gurgling noise coming from the patient, then Drake's eyes shot open. Julio immediately knew what was about to happen when his friend started gagging. He quickly searched around for something within reach that resembled a trash can. The closest thing he could find was the bed pan on one of the shelves in his roll-around table. He held it underneath Drake's head just in time to catch a waterfall of vomit, which spewed violently from his mouth. The young man coughed afterwards. He got a few deep breaths in, then he was at it again.

After the second round, Julio asked, "Was that it?"

Drake only shook his head as he spat into the almost-overflowing pan.

"Hold this." When the young man took it, Julio hurried over to the door and grabbed the small garbage can. He brought it back to Drake and took the bed pan over to the sink.

"I'm so sick," Drake whined before more slid up his throat.

"Maybe it's the morphine."

He panted for breath before saying, "What?"

"You woke up earlier yelling about pain." He saw his friend's worried look and said, "My brother told them not to give you anymore."

Julio grabbed a paper towel and wet it, then he tore off a few more and left them dry. Drake wiped away the snot, then cleaned off his mouth. About the time he was finished with that, his friend passed him a new gown to change into. He removed the one that had puke trailing down the front, then he cleaned off his chest. As he did this, he noticed the bruises right between his breasts.

"Damn," he whispered to himself, then he slipped on the clean hospital gown with Julio's help. "Sorry," he said guiltily as he watched his friend clean the sink.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

"My mouth tastes bad."

"We brought your toothbrush and shit. You wanna brush your teeth?"

When Drake nodded, he opened the closet and searched through a small bag of the boy's belongings. He passed him his toothbrush and toothpaste, then poured some water in a cup so that he could gargle and spit afterwards. After that was finished, Drake rested his head against the pillow and closed his eyes.

"You alright?"

"Hurts to breathe," he whispered, then to himself, he mumbled, "I just got over this shit."

"Yeah, I heard about that."

Drake eyed him now. "Who told you?"

"No one," he said. "We got your hospital bill in the mail."

"Shit, you weren't supposed to see that." The boy closed his eyes again and sighed, then winced.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Really?" Julio was hurt. "You're not gonna tell me?"

"It was an accident. I took too many muscle relaxers."

"Muscle relaxers?"

"I was having a panic attack. Clem gave me these pills. I didn't look at them; I just took them. I don't know what happened. Brett said Sam drove me to the hospital and I stopped breathing, so he had to do CPR."

"Bruh, Dahlia almost killed you."

"It was an accident, alright?"

"Are you sure about that? She's gonna be a doctor. Shouldn't she know that shit?"

"She wouldn't have done that," Drake said. "She has too much to lose."

"I don't know, bruh. Dahlia's fucking crazy."

"The fuck do you know?" he snapped. He was getting angry and Julio noticed this.

"Are you really sticking up for her right now? After everything?" Julio, too, was pissed. "My brother has been by your side through everything and you made him leave this room in tears earlier. The cheating, the lies, the abuse, the manipulation — you're willing to look past all that for Dahlia, but not forgive Ricardo, who has no idea what he even did to make you hate him so much?"

"He knows what he did and he can go fuck himself," he mumbled.

Julio was fuming now. "Hey! I get that you're stuck in the hospital and your plans fell through and you're not having a good time, but that doesn't give you the right to treat my brother like shit. He has been worried sick about you and you just kicked him out like that? That was fucking rude."

"The only reason he's been so worried is because if I had succeeded, then he would've felt like it was his fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"Who do you think told me to kill myself?"

"What, you're trying to tell me Ricardo told you to do this?"

"Several times."

"That's bullshit. He would never-"

"Apparently, he would," Drake interrupted. "He'll get what he wants soon enough. I know we both know that this isn't the last time."

Julio was taken aback by his words.

"Just because I failed, it doesn't mean I don't still feel the same way. This is all bullshit. We're sitting here watching tv, listening to music and...and playing fucking cards, but when I get out of here, I'm gone. I'm gonna finish what I started."

"What the fuck, Drake?" was all Julio could even say. Hearing his best friend's harsh, phlegmatic voice brought tears to his eyes. "I don't understand. Don't you give a shit about anyone — about me?"

"I've tried things your way for far too long and not a damn thing has changed. I'm so fucking sick of feeling this way. All I do is destroy. I've destroyed everything and everyone around me except myself, but I am done failing at that."

Usually, when Drake spoke, Julio could tell who was really speaking. Most of the time, it was Drake, but sometimes it was Martin or Charlie or Dahlia. He had no idea which this was.

"Who told you that?" Julio asked.

Drake held his pained stare and spoke with a hard voice. "Your brother."

"Bruh, what the fuck?"

Ricardo had been resting his tired eyes as he was hunched over in his seat, but when Julio entered the waiting room, he sat up and furrowed his brow and immediately noticed how angry he was. "What?"

"Did you write this?"

He took the phone that his brother held out to him and read the vicious words on the screen, then he saw his name at the top. "What the fuck?" he whispered. "I didn't send that." He dragged the screen down and saw another hateful message above this one. After reading it, he moved on to the next, then kept scrolling when he saw that it wasn't the last. "What the fuck? I didn't send all these." He looked at his brother. "You know I didn't send these."

Julio believed him.

"I don't understand." Ricardo pulled out his own phone and opened his messages that he had sent Drake. "This is the last thing I sent to him. I tried to smooth things over with him when I saw the hospital bill, but he ignored it." He checked the date that he sent his apology, then scrolled through the messages on Drake's phone. He made it all the way to the top, but there were no matching texts. "He deleted it."

"This first message was sent the same day you sent that message," Julio noticed. "Bruh, you don't think..."

"What?"

"I mean, I didn't do it. The only other person who had access to your phone this many times was..."

"Dee wouldn't do this."

"You were always talking and thinking about Drake all the time. Maybe he got jealous. I mean, you two have only been dating for, like, a month or two, so how much could you really know about him?"

"He wouldn't do this," Ricardo argued. "You've met him. He's not like that. You know he's not like that."

"I don't know anything anymore," Julio said. "I mean, it would be so simple to get on your phone, send Drake a message, then delete it so that you would never know he did it. Who else could it be? Someone from work? I promise it wasn't me."

"I know it wasn't you. Hold on. Lemme...lemme try something." Ricardo started typing on Drake's phone: a simple hey, then he sent it. He waited for a moment, but he never received the message on his phone.

"Is your WiFi working?"

"It's working."

"Send it from you."

Ricardo typed Drake's name into the box, then sent it to the boy. Immediately, he received a notice in a blue box at the bottom of the screen. "You can't reply to this conversation. What the fuck?"

"That means he blocked you."

Ricardo went back to the home page on his account and used the search bar to find Drake's page. It wasn't there, which confirmed Julio's statement.

"Wait, but if he blocked you," Julio said, "then he shouldn't be able to send you a message, but he did and he didn't get the same notification that you did."

"I'm so confused."

"This isn't your profile." Julio took Drake's phone from him. "Otherwise, it would've said 'You can't reply to this conversation' when you sent yourself a message from him. It works both ways when you block someone. Neither of you can message the other."

"So...this is someone else's page...?" He was slowly beginning to catch up.

"Right, but when I click on it, I can't see it because it's set to private. He's not friends with this profile."

"Okay..."

"Hold on." Julio pulled out his own cell phone and opened the Facebook app. In the search bar, he typed 'Ricardo Santos.' "Look, there are two profiles with your name, and both using that same profile picture, but this one I'm friends with. See? This is you. Here're those pictures you posted from the cabin. But when I click on that other Ricardo — I'm not friends with that one and I can't see any of your posts."

"What does this mean?"

"It means that someone created an entire Facebook page pretending to be you and they sent those messages to Drake from it so that he would think they were from you."

"Who would do that?"

"Yeah?" Clementine called over the loud sound of the running water in the shower.

Sam cracked open the door. "I was talking to Brett and my phone just died. Do you mind if I use your phone really quick?"

"Go ahead."

Samantha picked it up off the counter. "It's asking for your password, hun." She passed it to the girl when she reached her arm around the shower curtain. When she got it back, she said, "Thanks. I'll just be a second." She closed the door behind her, then went back to her bedroom. "Okay, I got it," she said into her own, sufficiently-charged cell phone.

"Okay, open Facebook," Julio said, "then go over to the menu and log out. After you do that, it should show you what accounts usually log in on that phone."

"Hold on." There was a short pause, then, "Yep, it's showing hers, Drake's and then Ricardo's."

"Son of a bitch!" she heard the older brother exclaim in the background.

"Okay, can you get in?" Julio asked.

"Yeah, I'm in. She's got a message. It's from Drake. It just says hey," she said, confirming that this was the "Ricardo" who had been messaging Drake.

"That fucking bitch!" came Ricky's infuriated voice in the background again.

"Oh my God..."

"What?" Julio asked.

Sam had read the latest message Dahlia had sent to her ex. "I can't believe she said that. Oh my God. I feel so bad. How could she say that?" She continued scrolling. "I'm so sorry. When he talked about getting texts from you, Ricardo, I really thought it was you. This has been going on for a while. He was such a mess about it. He stayed in bed all the time and just cried."

Ricardo stood and clutched his balled-up jacket in his fists. He started pacing to work off his anger before he did something that would put him in jail. He sharply mumbled a lot of words in Spanish.

"Oh my God, I can't believe she said all this," the girl said again. "He never read them to me. I didn't know they were this bad." After a moment, she said, "This one..."

"Which one?"

"The one on April sixth, his ex's birthday."

"Meelah?"

"Yeah." There was a pause as she reread the message. "He stayed in bed and cried that whole day. Dahlia said it was because he had a nightmare, but I didn't know he got another text, and then Brett found out that it was Meelah's birthday. They had — I don't really know if I should be telling you this, but I know you guys only wanna help him."

"What is it?"

Ricardo came closer and stopped walking now.

"Dahlia — she always brags about their sex life. She was telling me about this time he let her do a rape role-play, with him being the victim. I didn't know how she'd managed to convince him, but after reading this text... She's just making him feel inadequate. He probably felt like — I don't know — like he had something to prove to himself."

As she spoke, Julio went back and found the text Sam was referring to, then he and his brother read it.

"She told me he used the safe word, but then she put something in his mouth so he couldn't say it again and she kept going."

Ricardo slung his jacket so hard that when the zipper hit the metal arm on one of the many chairs, it made a loud noise. He was cursing up a storm when he turned and stomped out of the waiting room.

"Bro," Julio called after him, but he was already gone.

"I confronted her about it and she blew up. She made a whole scene and put Drake on the spot. He stood up for her and said it was just part of the role-play, but I think he was just too scared to call her out. He'd changed after it had happened, which is why I'd even asked how things were going in the first place. He hardly ever kissed her. He wasn't upset when she stayed gone with her friends all day and left him at home. He didn't tell her he loved her when she left the house." Sam said, "I think it happened multiple times. She tried to say it wasn't rape because, you know...he ejaculated. I don't know if it'd do any good for you to bring all of that up now, but I just thought you should know."

"This is all so fucking insane. I mean, I always thought she was crazy, but...she's straight-up psycho. My brother was right. She's a sociopath."

"That's not even the half of it. It was like he was in prison when he lived here. She wouldn't let him leave the house ever. She picked out his clothes, told him what to eat, picked what he watched. She'd leave in the morning for 'study group,' which we found out was never actually a thing, and she would stay gone all day — sometimes wouldn't even come back until the next morning. Even when she was gone, he wasn't allowed to leave the house and he was too scared to go against her wishes because sometimes, she would text him and make him send some ridiculous picture of himself doing something or holding a certain object to prove that he was at home. I remember walking in on him one day taking a selfie of himself holding an iron, which we've never used. It's been in the back of the hall closet since we got it. Even after he sent the picture, Dahlia told him she didn't believe him because he could've taken that picture before, so she made him FaceTime her and I had to tell her he was at home. He was so embarrassed."

"I knew she was controlling, but goddamn."

"And I don't know if you saw it the other night, but she started posting dirty pictures of herself on his Facebook page to make it look like he was doing it to be an asshole. We were on the phone with him and he was so wasted. I didn't think he could even comprehend what we were saying, but he took them down and changed the password, I guess, because she didn't do it again."

"I didn't see it. He has me and my brother blocked."

"I'm sure she went in and did that," Samantha said, then there was a silence because both were having trouble fathoming all of the new information. "Never in a million years would I have ever thought that she could do something like this."

"I know. I don't understand why she would ever wanna hurt him. He loved her. He still loves her, I can tell." He sighed, then hung his head and rested it in his hand. "I don't know how I'm supposed to tell him all of this."

"How is he?" she asked somberly.

"It looks like he's gonna make a full recovery, but maybe that's just me being hopeful. He was a vegetable just a few hours ago, but now he's talking normally and everything."

"Brett and I will be praying for him," she said, "and for you and your brother, too."

"Thanks."

"We would love to come by and see him when he feels up to it."

"I'll let him know," Julio said. "Do you think you could send me some screenshots so Drake has proof?"

"I'll do you one better. I'll take a video of me going into the account on her phone. I don't think screenshots will cut it with Drake."

"They probably won't. Good call," he said. "Hey, can you delete that last message we sent so she doesn't get suspicious of us finding out?"

"Got it. I'd better go. I need to call Brett from her phone in case she goes in and checks to see if I did what I said I'd do."

"Okay, and, um, don't tell Dahlia...what he did, please. I don't want her to have that satisfaction."

"I won't."

The two said their goodbyes, then Julio hung up the phone. He let go of his breath and stayed there, mentally preparing himself before he gave Drake the news.

Julio stayed silent as he held his friend close and let him bawl. Drake's body jerked so hard that he was tightly clutching a pillow against his chest as an attempt to weaken the sharp pains shooting through his abdomen. He had taken the truth hard. Like expected, he refused to believe it in the beginning, but once the video was in front of him, he couldn't deny it. Julio had then showed Drake that there were two profiles for Ricardo Santos, one that he himself was friends with and one that he wasn't. He'd then explained to his hurting friend that it wasn't even possible for the real Ricky to message him because he was blocked. Julio went into Drake's phone and showed him his blocked friends. Both Julio and Ricardo were there, along with Kenzly, Meelah, Mindy, some attractive girls Drake hadn't even spoken to since high school and his family. He had been the one to block his family and it was years ago. It had been too hard seeing them go on living their lives without him and he hadn't wanted them to see him continue to fuck his life up.

Everything that was happening was completely insane. He went back in his mind and analyzed every last bit of his relationship with Dahlia that he could remember. She had caused him so much heartache, and for what? Why had she accepted his proposal if she didn't actually have feelings for him? What if he wouldn't have caught her cheating? She had started pushing for kids and he would've done it, too, just to make her happy. He would've done everything for her. He did do everything for her and none of it was real. This last year with her was a fucking daydream — or more like a nightmare now. It was like he was just waking up and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

This was his karma. He had no right to be upset when he had basically done the exact same thing to Tad years ago. He had caused the same emotional turmoil and he had left scars on the man's heart. Now he knew how it felt. Now he felt worse than he could ever remember feeling.

Julio felt his best friend pull away suddenly, then he watched him lean over the bed and hurl into the garbage can. He knew that he couldn't make this better. There was nothing he could do to take this pain away, but he could offer his support, so he rubbed his friend's back. Drake's puking and coughing and gagging was loud enough that, when Ricardo entered the room, Drake didn't hear him. Julio did, however, and he looked up at his brother, who looked on at the scene before him with sympathy.

Minutes later, when Drake was finished throwing up, he pushed himself back up into a sitting position. This is when he finally noticed Ricardo. He was standing next to him and holding out a damp paper towel.

"I'm so sorry," was all Drake could say and he cried some more. "I'm so stupid. I'm a piece of shit. I-"

"No, you're not," came Ricky's soothing voice.

Since the young man wasn't making any moves to wipe off his mouth, he did it for him. After this, he wrapped his arms around him. Since he was standing, he felt Drake's forehead rest against his stomach as he hung his head shamefully and sobbed. They remained like this for a couple minutes until Drake was finally able to speak again.

"Please forgive me," he said. "Please don't hate me."

"Look at me." Ricardo squatted down so that he was looking up into Drake's eyes, which he tried to hide behind his bangs. He put his hand on the boy's cheek so that he couldn't turn away. "I could never hate you. Ever."

Somehow, this made Drake feel worse. "I'm so, so, so sorry. I should've known."

"Hey, we all fell into her trap," he said. "You just got the worst of it."

"I love her," his voice cracked and went up a few octaves.

"I know."

"Why would she do this?"

"She's a sociopath. She doesn't care about anyone. She met you and she saw how kind you are and how big your heart is and she knew she could take advantage of that. You did nothing wrong."

"How could I be so blind? I'm such an idiot!"

"You're not an idiot. This wasn't your fault. You did everything right. It was her who made the mistake. She'll realize that soon enough. No one will ever love her and treat her with the kindness and respect that you did."

"She's gonna regret it," Julio agreed as he pulled Drake into a half-hug. "You're the best boyfriend slash fiancé anyone could ever ask for. Shit, even I'd marry you if you didn't have a dick."

Drake would've laughed if he wasn't so heartbroken. "God's punishing me for the way I used Tad. I did the same thing to him that Clem did to me."

"You're not perfect," Ricardo said. He hated Tad and he didn't think that Drake should feel the least bit guilty about leaving him, but he did, so he had to work off of that. "You make mistakes, but you mean well. You have a conscience. That's what separates people like us from people like Dahlia. That's what makes you human."

"I'm so tired," the boy said.

Ricardo wiped Drake's tears away with his thumb. "Why don't you lay down and get some rest, okay?" He stood and Julio got out of the way so that he could help the boy lay down. "Everything's gonna be okay," he promised. He brushed the boy's bangs out of his eyes and wiped away more of the wetness on his cheek. "You comfortable?" When Drake nodded, he moved his hand to the boy's bicep and rubbed it.

The patient's voice came out as a weak whisper. "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Ricky promised.

"Hey, it's okay." Ricardo whispered. "You're okay. It's just a nightmare."

Drake looked at him and felt comfort when he saw his face. It was short-lived, though, and his face soon began twisting and contorting. "Oh, fuck," he groaned in between staccato breaths, then he clutched his chest.

"Can you go to the nurses' station and ask about pain medicine? He hasn't had anything since the morphine." After Julio left the room, the man grabbed Drake's extra pillow and handed it to him to squeeze. "Dr. Sarkov's nice, but they just don't have it together up here like your normal doctor. Maybe when they move you out of ICU and into a regular room, you'll get to see Dr. Mydo."

"It's hard to breathe," Drake complained.

"It's hard to breathe or it just hurts to breathe." One was way more dangerous than the other.

"It hurts."

"I'm sorry."

"It's way worse than last time. How many ribs did they break?"

"Seven and your sternum is fractured."

"Seven? Fuck..." Last time was only two with several fractures, Brett had told him.

"Julio should be back with a nurse in a second." Ricardo could see the pain that his friend was in and it broke his heart.

"Everything hurts."

"What's everything?"

"My back, my...head...arm. My chest feels really tight." Drake had his eyes squeezed closed and his toes curled tightly. He pressed his heels against the mattress, almost like he was attempting to push himself backwards as if he could crawl away from the pain. "No..."

"No what?"

"No, I can't breathe."

"You can't breathe?" Ricardo confirmed.

"No." Drake began coughing now.

The older man turned his attention to the nearby machines when he heard his heart monitor beep faster. "Shit..." He started to make his way out to the hallway, but finally, Julio returned with a nurse. He quickly filled the man in.

"What's happening?" Julio asked when he saw Drake.

The medical professional approached Drake, his demeanor serious. "Mr. Parker, where does it hurt?"

Ricardo answered for him since he was struggling to breathe in between his coughing.

The nurse, whose name tag read Mullins, pulled out his stethoscope. "I'm going to put this on your chest and listen to your breathing," he said, making sure to explain what he was doing so the patient didn't freak out like before. He was the one who had received a punch. He tapped on the young man's chest and listened while Julio and Ricardo stood helplessly by.

"...can't..."

"I'm going to put this oxygen mask on you to help you get some air. Don't panic. I'll grab Dr. Sarkov and we'll see about getting some x-rays done." He hurried out of the room.

Somehow, the oxygen mask made it even harder to breathe. Drake's fingers tightened into fists as he tore at the sheets, his knuckles white.

"Just hang in there," Ricardo said for lack of anything better to say. He gripped the boy's wrist. "No, don't take that off." Suddenly, he felt Drake grab his hand. He met his friend's eyes and saw fear in them. "You're gonna be okay," he assured.

Within the next sixty seconds, Mullins returned with Dr. Sarkov and a couple nurses. The doctor put the buds of his stethoscope into his ears, then listened and tapped his chest in a few places. "It's sounds like a pneumothorax," he said.

"What's that?" Julio asked.

"A collapsed lung," then he said, "Let's get ready to move him."

"Move him where?"

"We're going to get x-rays of his chest for confirmation," Dr. Sarkov explained while the nurses began raising the sides of the bed up to prevent Drake from rolling off as they moved him.

"And if he does have a collapsed lung?"

"We'll put a tube in his side to drain out the air."

"Isn't that the opposite of what's supposed to happen?"

"If it was punctured, then the air is leaking from his lung and going into the membrane that surrounds it. That's where we'll be draining it from. Now if you don't mind returning to the waiting room. I will update you shortly."

With that, they were gone.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Ricardo asked softly as he approached the hospital bed. He offered a warm smile.

"I'm okay."

Julio examined the small tube that went into his friend's side between his ribs. "Did it hurt?"

He didn't want them to feel worse than they probably already did, so he evaded the question by simply saying, "They numbed it a lot." He sounded exhausted. "I'm sorry I freaked you out."

"We're just glad you're okay," Ricky said. "Visiting hours are over in a few minutes, but Dr. Sarkov said he'll let us stay an extra ten minutes."

"I don't want you to go," he said softly.

"They won't let us stay. The ICU is strict," he said. "Hey, but you'll be okay. We'll be back first thing in the morning."

Julio turned off the lights, but the one above Drake's head stayed on.

"Just close your eyes." Ricardo petted his hair as the boy repositioned his head on the pillow and did as he was told.

They remained silent. Today had been such a long day for all of them, but Drake especially. He was extremely tired, which is why he was out like a light within five minutes. Julio and Ricardo quietly snuck out of the room, then made their way to the elevators.

"Today's been so... I don't even know how I feel about today," Julio said. "I'm just so fucking exhausted."

"Me, too." He led his brother into the elevator when it opened.

"You think he'll be okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "You remembered your laptop and everything?"

"I got it," said Julio. "You're driving home, right? I don't think I can hold my eyes open."

"Yeah."

"Is Dee gonna meet us there?"

"I don't think so."

This wasn't something Julio normally did, so he felt awkward when he asked, "Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

Ricky had been grateful for Dee sleeping over the night before. His presence had helped him a great deal. They'd thought that Julio had been asleep, but maybe they had been wrong. Maybe he hadn't been able to stop obsessing about Drake.

"Of course." He draped his arm across his brother's shoulder and pulled him closer. It'll be a sleepover, just like when they were younger and would make a blanket fort in the living room floor.

"You tell anyone, though, and I'll kill you."

Ricardo smirked, then ran his fingers through the boy's hair roughly to mess it up. "I'd like to see you try, small fry."

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Ricardo said when the patient finally opened his eyes. He gave him a warm smile that made Drake feel like today would be a better day.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, his voice strained from tiredness.

"About an hour. No big deal. You slept a long time."

"They kept coming in and waking me up," he complained as he rubbed his eyes.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?"

"Nothing out of the norm," he said. "I'm so thirsty."

"Maybe you can ask them about taking the feeding tube out and letting you eat and drink on your own," the man suggested. Worry flashed across his face when Drake quickly leaned over to puke, aiming at the trash can below. Ricky stood, then rubbed his back until he was done.

Drake coughed, then spat into the can. He laid back against his pillow again and clutched his chest while Julio grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste for him.

"You're still throwing up?"

"Sometimes."

"Did you tell them?"

"No."

"Well...Drake!"

"I just wanna go home," he said pitifully.

"I know, but we have to get you better first."

The young man brushed his teeth, then blew his nose when he was offered a tissue. After this, he rested his head with fatigue. "I feel like shit."

"I know."

Ricardo seemed to take a more nurturing approach to the situation, his brother noticed. Julio, on the other hand, hoped that this was enough to scare Drake from ever doing what he had done ever again. He wasn't sure how many more times he could go through this.

"How are things with Dee?" Drake asked suddenly, which caught Ricky off guard.

"We're working through some things," was his answered. "Don't worry about us. Just focus on getting better."

There was more silence, but the young man couldn't drop the subject. "I didn't mean t-"

"I know."

"It's okay to be mad at me. You should be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," the man said. He was disappointed and upset, sure, but telling him this wouldn't help his recovery.

"Why don't we play cards?" Julio said. He had the same idea as his brother; they needed to keep things light. "You up for getting your ass kicked in poker?"

"Can we do something a little less...exhausting?"

"Afraid you're gonna lose?"

"Okay, Julio," Ricardo calmed. "Don't start getting competitive like you always do."

"Whatever. I can kick your asses in Go Fish, too.

"Have you told him that it was me who found him?" Alice asked as she quietly approached the sleeping boy.

"Yeah." Ricardo pulled up the single chair for her. "I apologize in advance if he's..."

"It's okay. I get it."

"He's been very...back and forth with his emotions."

"I would imagine so," she said as she stood over Drake and examined him from head to toe. There were so many wires and tubes, but she noticed the newest one almost immediately. "What's that?"

"We had a bit of a setback yesterday afternoon. He was having a nightmare and he was thrashing around before I could wake him, which caused one of his ribs to puncture his lung. They called it a pneumo...pneumothorax."

"A collapsed lung..."

"That tube is supposed to get all the air out of the membrane...or something."

"My husband had one years ago in an automobile accident," she said.

"Does it still affect him?"

"No, he's fine now. Once they get the leaking air out and the tear heals, the lung can go back to functioning normally. It can be a painful process, though." She took a seat in the chair. "Has work been okay with you taking this time off?"

"Yes, ma'am. My co-manager's been a godsend."

"Good. I didn't want Drake to be alone. You and your brother — you're wonderful friends to him. Really. I just wish my own son had people like you in his life. Who knows? Maybe he still would've been alive today."

"What was he like, if you don't mind talking about him?"

"He was such a delightful kid," she said. "He was very bright and he was happy. He used to-" She smiled as she reminisced on some of the best times of her life. "He used to hide every time Garrett came home from delivering a truckload to another state. We had this tall, light blue, wicker hamper. It was his favorite spot to hide because it had a lid. When we heard his father pulling up into the driveway, I would lift him up and put him in and Garrett would wander around pretending he didn't know where he was. When he found him, Daniel would laugh and laugh. Garrett would lift him up and give him whatever spare change he had in his pocket." She paused as her eyes watered over. "He was so happy then. I don't know what happened. I don't know where we went wrong."

"Sometimes It has nothing to do with you," Ricardo said softly. "Sometimes it's the chemicals in their brains — the demons that they're fighting."

Mrs. Hayfer nodded, then hung her head. "I suppose you're right." She sniffled as she wiped away the wetness from around her eyes. "I just wish they understood that they didn't have to fight them alone."

Ricardo went over to the counter and grabbed the box of tissues, then he passed them to his former teacher and decided to change the subject to get her mind off of her deceased son and all of her regrets. "I found out why Drake never came back home after he left Dahlia. She had created a Facebook account in my name and she was sending him some of the most...disturbing, ferocious things I've ever read. She told him to kill himself several times, only, he thought I was the one saying that."

"Oh my goodness."

"She said...horrible things about what happened with his dad and when he got involved in sex work. When he woke up yesterday, he hated me."

"How did he find out it wasn't you?"

"My brother and I went through both of the Facebooks comparing. Julio is the one who figured it out. I don't know what he did," he said. "We called Dahlia's roommate and she went through her phone and then we had proof that the messages were coming from her."

"That's disgusting," Alice spat. "I don't understand how she could do that to someone she planned on marrying." After a moment, she said, "It's crazy when you think about it. Drake always had girls all over him everywhere he went. I never pictured him settling down with just one for the rest of his life." She reached over him and brushed his bangs away from his eyes. "He deserves so much better. I hope he finds someone who has just as big a heart as he does."

The gentle touch on Drake's forehead woke him from his slumber. He somehow felt more tired now than he had before his nap. It was extremely hard to hold his eyes open and he was disoriented slightly. "Mmm..." he groaned.

"What's wrong?" Ricardo asked.

He didn't receive an answer. Instead, Drake dozed off again, but only for another couple minutes or so because the blood pressure cuff around his bicep started to tighten. Despite having been told to stay still when this happened, he lifted his other arm lazily and rubbed his tired eyes.

"Hey, Drake," came a woman's soft voice.

For a moment, he thought that it was his mother, but when he looked in her direction and blinked away his blurry vision, he saw someone even more unexpected. His head lifted off of his pillow as if that would help confirm that his eyesight wasn't completely out of wack. "Mmm, Mrs. Hayfer?"

"Yeah." The corners of her lips twitched upwards into a smile ever so slightly, then they went back to their normal downward position.

"Hey," he said, then he put his head back on his pillow and rested his eyes.

Hey. Well, it was better than anyone had expected.

"Hey," she said back.

"S'fucking cold in here."

"Hey, watch the language," Ricardo reminded, then he went over to the closet and grabbed the spare blankets the hospital had provided them with.

"Sorry," the boy mumbled. "It's really cold."

Alice helped Ricky spread the two extra blankets out on top of Drake. While the man fixed his pillow for him, she tucked his legs in tight like her mother used to do for her.

"Thanks," he said, his eyes still closed. His fingers trembled as he gripped the top of the blankets and pulled them even higher. "Where's Julio?"

"He's Skyping his study group in the Subway downstairs."

Mrs. Hayfer took this as her cue to leave. "I can go so he can come in here." She started to stand, but Drake stopped her.

"No, it's okay." Finally, he opened his eyes and met hers with sincerity.

"You sure?" she asked.

"Yeah." He was still half-asleep and it showed when he asked her, "Are you cold?"

"No, I'm okay." She looked at Ricardo, who backed away now that he was finished repositioning the pillow. "Why's he so cold?"

"I think it's whatever they put in the IV." He went over to the other side of the bed and leaned against the glass wall.

"I can feel it in my veins," the boy whispered as he snuggled into the three thin, white blankets. "They won't give me anymore blankets."

"Plus, he's just naturally cold all the time in general."

"Me, too. Especially my fingers." When she said this, she looked down at her hands. Her fingers were long, white, wrinkly bones. "Actually, I might have something that could help." She stood and went over to her purse, which she had left on the counter. "I have a bunch of these HotHands."

"Hot hands?" Drake questioned.

"Here they are. My students would always complain about how hot I keep my classroom, so I started bringing these. They're hand warmers." She opened a pack, then started shaking the two pouches that were inside. "You just shake them like this and then they'll get hot in about fifteen minutes."

She got Drake all set up. She let him use her gloves and she put one pouch in each. She had to be careful with his left hand because there was a large bruise on top from where he had pulled out his IV before. They now had it sticking into his forearm. Mrs. Hayfer also let him have her toe warmers. She put the sticky end against his sock, then Ricardo put the slippers that he'd bought for the boy back on him. Minutes later, he felt much better.

"I'm so warm," he said happily, his eyes still closed and the blankets pulled up to his chin.

"They last a long time, too. About eight or ten hours, I think."

"Bruh, why didn't anyone tell me about these on the streets? I would've sucked dick for these."

"Drake..." Ricardo scolded, but in a kind tone of voice. "Sorry, they gave him pain meds not too long ago and they make him a little loopy."

"Sorry," Drake repeated even though he didn't really know what he was sorry for, then, bringing back up a topic from almost twenty minutes ago, he said to Ricardo, "Can you ask Julio to bring me Subway?"

"A sub's not gonna fit through your feeding tube."

"I can eat it normally."

"You'll have to ask one of the nurses."

"They're gonna say no."

"Then the answer's no," the man said matter-of-factly.

Drake pouted for a moment, then turned to his former teacher with hopeful eyes. He opened his mouth to say her name, but was interrupted before he had the chance.

"Still no," Ricardo said.

"Ugh," the young man groaned and if Ricky was a bit older and if Alice didn't already know these two boys, she would've guessed that Drake was the other man's son. "Fuck my life," he whispered to himself as he tossed his head back against the pillow.

"Bruh..."

"What?" He knew when he looked at the older boy's face. "Mrs. Hayfer says bad words, too. I've heard it." He was referring to the time she had taken him to his motel room and had sworn at him when he'd started kicking the dashboard of her car.

"It's disrespectful," the man said quietly.

Drake started making sure to use a filter. He looked around the room, then his eyes landed on Alice's. He said nothing at first as if he was waiting for Ricardo to interrupt him, but when that didn't happen, he asked her, "So no Subway then?"

The woman couldn't help but smile. "He's relentless, this one."

"Tell me about it," Ricardo agreed.

"What's that mean?" Drake asked.

"It means no Subway."

Alice smiled at his joke, but she couldn't not teach when someone was willing to learn. "It means being persistent, but, like...in an annoying way."

Ricardo snorted at the expression of utter shock on Drake's face. "Rekt."

"Rude a.f., Mrs. Hayfer," Drake replied, with a.f. meaning as fuck, but filtered. Even still, he was warming up to her and she could sense this.

Ricardo glanced at his watch. "Someone's probably gonna come in and check on you soon," he said, "so if anyone asks, Mrs. Hayfer's your mom and I'm your step-brother."

"What?"

"They only let us visit you if we were family."

Like clockwork, a nurse knocked on the door within the next few minutes, then stepped inside. Mrs. Hayfer joined Ricardo to get out of her way. She turned slightly as an attempt at hiding her face.

"Hi, Drake." The nurse's name tag read Belinda. She was young and tan and had a giant smile and a bubbly voice. She was someone he would've hit on if he wasn't absolutely heartbroken about splitting up with his fiancée. "How are we doing?"

"I'm okay."

"You're breathing okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good." She went over to the IV pole to change out the empty bag of liquid.

There was a silence for a moment, then Drake, still loopy because of the medication they had him on, said dumbly, "This is my mom."

Ricardo couldn't stop himself from face-palming. "Oh, God..." he mumbled so that only Mrs. Hayfer, who waved awkwardly to the woman, could hear.

Somehow, Belinda's smile got even bigger and she looked at the patient with furrowed brows.

"And this is my step-brother," Drake added.

"Hm, that's funny," she said. "Josh and Mrs. Nichols look a lot different than I remember."

The boy's mind was too fuzzy for him to comprehend that she knew he was lying. "...yep..."

Ricardo, on the other hand, was internally freaking out. If they stopped letting them visit because they weren't blood relatives, then Drake would have no one.

Belinda tried to clue him in on what she seemed to think was hilarious. "You don't remember sneaking me into your room after you thought your parents were asleep and then getting caught by your mom, do you?"

He was confused, so he went with the answer that he thought made him sound better. "...yeah..."

Ricky literally couldn't look at the train wreck before him.

"And cheating off my test papers in Mrs. Hayfer's class?"

Drake was beginning to understand. "Oh..."

The nurse turned and gave her former teacher a smirk. "Hi, Mrs. Hayfer."

"Hi, Belinda. Good to see you."

"I would've thought that after he was out of your class, you would've steered clear from Drake," she joked.

"Believe me. I've tried."

"She thinks I'm relentless," the young man said.

"From what I remember of that night when you snuck me in, I would have to say I agree with her." She laughed and patted his shoulder as if they were old friends. "Why'd you try to hurt yourself, Drake?"

This question took him by surprise and he didn't know how to answer it. However, he felt like he had to say something because although they were around the same age, she was a nurse and, therefore, an authority figure. "I guess I just...felt alone."

"You're never alone," she said, her voice still bubbly, almost like she was talking to a child. "You and Mrs. Hayfer didn't get a long one bit back in school, but she's here and she's worried about you. She wants to see you get better, and this guy right here — he's been by your side since you got here. I promise you you're not alone."

Drake was suddenly hit with a wave of guilt and he lowered his eyes.

"I know you've gone through quite a rough patch, but the world's not all bad. The people who love you and care about you — they're who make life worth living and it looks like you have two of those people standing right in front of you. You've gotta get better for them, Drake. You've gotta get better for you, okay?"

"Okay," he said.

She gave his shoulder another pat, then tossed the empty liquid bag into the wastebasket. "I'll be back to check on you in a little while. Just hit that nurse button if you need anything." With that, Belinda was gone.

The room was quiet after that and the air felt heavy, but before the awkwardness could set in too much, Ricardo slowly approached his friend. "You okay?" He sat down on the edge of the hospital bed and rubbed Drake's arm.

The boy's voice was somber as he looked up at the man, his eyes glistening. "I didn't do it to hurt you," he said.

"I know that, Drake."

"I just...I just thought you..."

"Look at me," he said with such a serious tone that the boy listened. "Even if I were angry — raging like you've never seen — I would never. ever. want you to hurt yourself. Ever. Do you understand me?"

Drake's almost inaudible voice was filled with shame. "Yes."

"I love you...so much." One of the boy's tears silently slipped with this and Ricardo's eyes were getting a little wet, too. "You mean so much to me and I could not have asked for a better friend than you. Having you in my life-"

Drake hung his head as more of his tears fell, but Ricky wanted to make sure he heard him. Sure, the words were going into Drake's ears and into his brain, but his brain could easily contort those when it needed to. Ricardo lifted the boy's chin and forced him to meet his eyes. This way, his words would go into his heart.

"Having you in my life," he continued, "— it's been chaotic, yes, but I have never felt more whole. When you're gone, a piece of me is gone, too."

Drake was often conflicted about what to believe. On one side, you have Ricardo giving him encouragement and hope and praise and on the other side, there's Martin, with his sensible doubts, brutal put-downs and vicious insults. However, hearing these words now — they felt like the truth.

"Please, don't try to leave us anymore," Ricardo said quietly. "I would be so empty without you."

Mrs. Hayfer hung back and stayed quiet. When she looked at Drake, she saw her son and when she looked at Ricardo, she saw the person she wished she could've been. She was happy for Drake — she really was — but it wasn't fair. Both had attempted suicide three times, only Daniel's third time had worked. Drake got to live another day while her beloved son was gone forever. She would give anything just to see him again. She just wanted to hold him in her arms and tell him all the things she'd never said — all the things Ricardo had said. If she could just go back, she could've saved him. She could've made sure that he knew without a doubt that he meant everything...everything to her.

Tears fell down her face as she watched Drake lean his forehead against his friend's shoulder. The boy's back jerked as he cried. She heard him apologize to Ricky, which was something she'd never gotten from her son. If only she could go back and be the person he had needed her to be...

Alice quietly slipped out of the room so that the two boys could have some alone time. She went over to the elevators and took one down to the ground floor. She was crying the whole time, but the middle-aged woman she was stuck with didn't say anything to her and she was grateful. When she got off the elevator, she passed by the Subway and the gift shop, then she was in the lobby. She went out the sliding glass doors and made her way to the parking garage straight ahead. She needed to calm her nerves. She hadn't picked up a cigarette in six and a half years, but things had been rough these past couple months and the last three days had really pushed her over the edge.

She was parked on the bottom level, so she didn't have to get on another elevator to get to her vehicle. She got her keys out of her purse, then clicked a button on them. The taillights flashed and the car chirped as its doors unlocked. She opened the passenger's side door and reached into the middle compartment for her pack of cigarettes, then she went around to the hood of the car and sat down along the wall. She didn't want to smoke inside her vehicle because her husband would smell it, but she knew that she would be fined if security drove by on patrol and caught her. She grabbed a cigarette out of the pack and flicked the lighter, then closed her eyes as smoke filled her lungs. She hardly got a minute to herself before she was interrupted.

"Mrs. Hayfer?" It was Julio. His backpack was tossed over one shoulder and he was carrying his laptop. He held a pencil and some papers, which were close to slipping out of his hand due to how quickly he'd packed his things. He has seen her rush past the Subway clearly upset and wanted to check on her. "Is everything okay?"

"Drake's fine," she said as she wiped away her tears and sniffled.

He never would've taken her for a smoker, but he never thought that about any teacher, really. "Mind if I...?"

She picked up her pack of Camels and held them out to him, so he slid in between the two cars and approached her. He pulled out a cigarette, then lit it and sat down next to her. For a moment, they stayed silent and just took puffs and exhaled the smoke out of their mouths, then Julio broke the quiet.

"We're only four months in and this has been the shittiest year of my life," he said.

"Yeah, it's definitely up there at the top of the shitty years list for me, too." She was staring at an ant on the concrete. As it scurried on, she flicked her ashes right in front of it and when it tried going another way, she put another obstacle in its way to trap it. When she felt a tap on her shoulder she looked over and saw her former student holding out a flask to her. She accepted it, then took a big gulp. It was whisky. The warmth of it immediately hit her. She could feel it everywhere — all the way down to her toes. She took another drink, then passed it back.

"I can't imagine the memories all this is triggering for you," he said, then he paused and tilted the flask over his lips. He wasn't quite slurring his words, but Mrs. Hayfer could tell that this wasn't his first sip today. "I've thought about it before — doing what Drake did. I've been wishing I had the balls to do it for years. He's done it three times. He mustered up the nerve three times. Every time, I see the toll it takes on the people around him — on my brother. I feel it, too, and sometimes I can't help but hate him for being so selfish — for making things even harder." He took another swallow, then passed the flask along. "And what sucks is knowing that I could never end my own life because I've felt what it's like to stand over my best friend's lifeless body and know that it would be the last time I ever saw him. I felt what it's like to obsess over the last conversation I had with him and regret everything when it's too late to go back. I could never put my brother or my parents or even Drake through that...and I hate him for that."

"I never understood why Daniel did what he did until after he succeeded. Life felt unbearable without him. It was like I had died with him."

Julio took the flask and drank. He kept his head facing forward and stared absently at the hood of her car as he listened.

"One day, I decided that I couldn't be without him for another second. I locked myself in the bathroom and I got in the tub and just started tearing my wrists up." She was no longer crying. In fact, there was no emotion at all in her eyes. It was almost like she was dead. "I laid there waiting for it all to go away — for all the emptiness to go away," she said. "But then I started thinking about my husband — about him walking in and finding me like that. He'd just lost his only son and now his wife was following right in his footsteps. As I laid there, I realized that...there is always something worth living for. Life goes on. We have to go on with it. We have to learn from our mistakes and do the best we can because giving up...giving up is the worst mistake you'll ever make. Once you give up, you'll never be able to take it back."

"So what'd you do?" the boy asked.

"I got up, I got some gauze, I wrapped up my arms and I called an ambulance."

"Do you ever...do you ever wish you wouldn't have? Do you ever wish you would've stayed in the bathtub?"

There was a moment of silence, then she said, "No." Alice met his eyes and shook her head. "I don't."

Ricardo turned his head towards the door when he heard it open and he saw his brother.

"He's asleep?" Julio whispered.

The man nodded. "Did you see Mrs. Hayfer?"

"Yeah, she went home for the day. She said she'll be back tomorrow."

"I feel bad. I didn't even notice her leave."

"What happened?" He was a bit drunk now, so he sat down the the chair because he didn't want his brother to catch him stumbling around.

"He got upset...about what he did. He feels awful about scaring us."

"He should," accidentally came out of Julio's mouth.

Ricardo approached him and gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "You alright?" he asked with furrowed brows.

"I'm fine," he said harshly.

It was obvious that he wasn't, but the man knew that there was a time to prod and there was a time to back off. "I need to run out to my car to grab my phone charger. I'm gonna grab a drink from the vending machine. You want anything?"

"No."

"Okay. I'll be back."

When he was gone, Julio sat back in his chair and stared at his best friend. Without realizing it, he clenched his fists with fury and his eyes were hard and slanted. He had rage burning inside of his heart and he couldn't help it. He understood Drake. He could totally relate to wanting to kill yourself, but the difference is that he's never actually tried it. You don't do that. You don't just leave everyone behind like that. You don't pass your pain onto someone else. It's not fair.

The young man picked up the remote and turned on the television. He put the volume way down low and flipped through the channels. There was nothing on: some bullshit talk show, a cooking show, Maury, some dumb-looking cartoon on Disney, soap operas. He sighed, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his flask again. He liked the taste of whisky. For the longest time, he'd leaned towards vodka, but that was before he gave whisky a real chance. He had always just stuck with what he knew, but Ricardo had given him a shot at his bar a few weeks ago and Julio had immediately fallen in love. He liked beer a lot, too, but you had to drink so many and it took too long. It wasn't that way with whisky. Not at all.

Despite the television volume being on five, the sudden noise, although extremely quiet, had woken Drake. His room was dark, but he kept it dark because he preferred it that way. Therefore, despite the dim lighting, he could see that Julio had joined him and that Ricardo had left. He could also see the flask that his friend was drinking from.

Julio sighed and mumbled to himself, "Piece of shit," and he turned the tv back off. He straightened in his chair and that's when he noticed Drake watching him. "Hey," he said innocently.

"Hey."

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," the boy said quietly.

"You want some water?" Without waiting for an answer, he stood and grabbed Drake's water cup, then turned his back to him and went over to the sink. This wasn't because he thought the patient was thirsty; Drake got his liquids through the tube in his nose. He just needed to inconspicuously put his flask away without him noticing.

"Julio?" came Drake's soft voice from behind him.

"Yeah?" He turned back to him and passed him the water.

The young man wanted to ask why he was drinking, but he knew why, so he went with this instead. "I'm really sorry...about everything. What I said to you yesterday — I was just...in a bad place."

Julio knew that he was talking about when he told him that he was going to kill himself the second he was released from the hospital. Drake had truly meant it at the time, but now he wasn't so sure. It wasn't completely off the table, but he highly doubted that he would be able to put his friends through this again.

"I've been so shitty," Drake continued. "You've always, always been there for me and I keep letting you down. I don't know how you put up with me."

"Me neither," was Julio's response.

Drake was surprised that he was so honest, but he wasn't offended. "I'm sorry."

He knew that the boy was apologizing because he'd seen the flask and he felt embarrassed that Drake of all people felt the need to ease his way into a conversation about his new habit. The last person he needed a lecture from was some junkie who couldn't stay clean to save his life. The fact that he even had the audacity pissed Julio off in fact and he went on the defensive.

"Save your sorries, Drake. I know they don't mean shit."

"I really am sorry, though."

"I swear, sometimes I wish I never would've met you."

The young man didn't know what to say to this. He didn't want to say anything anyway because he could feel a lump rising up in his throat.

"There it is. That face right there — that my-dad-abused-me face. No one can get mad at you with that face. No one is allowed to get mad at you! You get away with so much bullshit because of what happened to you and it's not okay anymore. You ran out on us! You ran out on me! You made Dee break up with my brother, then you did this! You did this and now we can't get mad at you for all of the other shit!"

Drake held his glare with his own glazed over eyes.

"You do this every time!" Julio continued. "You break our hearts and you stress us out and you ruin everything, and then you go out there and almost get yourself killed one way or another and we have to pretend like you never hurt us! I have to pretend like you leaving wasn't the reason I started drinking everyday! I have to pretend like I didn't spend every waking moment worrying about you! I have to pretend that I didn't start failing all of my classes because you made me wanna fucking die! I have to pretend that I don't fucking hate you!"

Drake's bottom lip trembled even though he tried his best to stiffen it. He did all he could to keep the tears back, but so much water was flooding his eyes that finally, the dam broke. He stayed silent and he didn't make a move to wipe off his face because he didn't dare break his stare.

"You are the worst thing that's ever happened to me. The second you came into my life, everything became all about you. My brother fucking loves you and it's like I don't mean anything to anyone anymore!" Julio said. "I've lived in your fucking shadow for years! All of my problems get swept under the fucking rug, but then if for one second the spotlight isn't on you, you run off and you make the worst fucking decisions or you relapse or you...you fucking try to kill yourself! Ricardo's been so obsessed with you that he hasn't even noticed I haven't been going to class! He hasn't noticed that I hide in my room all day drinking until I pass the fuck out so that for a little while, I can forget I exist in a world where I will never be nearly as loved as you! So many people love you and do everything to help you because they want you to get better and you just fucking piss all over them every time! You know what I would give to have people care about my feelings like that?! You have taken everything from me! I'm so fucking tired of being here, but I can't even kill myself because you've taken that chance away from me, too!" He had tears running down his face now, too, but he ignored them. "And we both know that you're gonna get out of here and you're gonna try to end your life again and you're gonna make us go through this all over again because it's what you do! But you're gonna succeed one day just like Mrs. Hayfer's son did and my brother will be crushed, and when you do that, I will never ever get him back! You stole my fucking life!"

Alcohol affected Julio in the same way it affected Drake's father. Drake had noticed it almost immediately. He had noticed that fire burning in his friend's eyes. His dad's eyes had looked the same, so maybe that's why his fingers were trembling inside of his former teacher's gloves. A couple more sips and Julio would be throwing punches. He was a raging drunk and Drake was actually scared to be alone with him.

He could feel his mind pulling him back to his father's house, but he didn't want to go there. If he went there, he would be doing exactly what Julio had said he would, then Julio would feel guilty about unloading all of this truth.

Unfortunately, Drake's brain was weak and he was no match against his father's wrath.

*FLASHBACK*

A sharp pain shot through the young man's shoulder blades and the back of his head started pounding when he was shoved up against the wall. His dad's face was right in his and the scent of alcohol was so strong that it got Drake choked up. He started coughing, but that was a struggle because his dad's fingers were wrapped tightly around his throat.

"WORTHLESS LITTLE FUCK!" Martin pulled him away from the wall, then shoved him against it again.

Drake clutched the man's hands and tried to pry his fingers away, but he knew he wasn't strong enough. Everything hurt. He had been kicked so many times that there were already dark black bruises all over his torso. His nose was gushing with blood like never before and his lip was split open as well. He was shoved against the wall once again, so hard this time that he started seeing double. Afterwards, Martin yanked him away from it speedily and tossed him down. Drake had a lot of momentum, so he just barely caught himself with his forearms before his face smashed against the concrete flooring of the basement. Immediately, the left side of his bottom was given a rough kick and the force knocked him off of his knees and onto his stomach. This time, his face did make contact and he bit down so hard on his tongue that it bled. Drake choked out a sob as blood poured off of his face and landed in a dark crimson puddle below him.

The young man reached his hands out and started using his forearms and elbows to crawl towards the staircase on his stomach. He lifted his wildly trembling hand and gripped the first one, then pulled himself closer. "GAAHHH!"

Just before he had been able to ascend, his father dropped a cement cinder block right on top of his back. It landed directly on the bones of his shoulder blades, so his back curled up at the pain. He turned onto his side until the block fell off, then he started pulling himself up the stairs. Just for the hell of it, Martin let him get to the top before he gripped his ankles and began yanking him back down.

"Don't!" The young man clawed at the wooden steps, but he was unable to sufficiently grab ahold of one.

"You think I'm just gonna let you go like that?" Mr. Parker asked him.

"I've learned my lesson," Drake said.

"Well, that's great, Drake, but what good is that gonna do you now? You heard your teacher. You've already failed your math class."

The boy moved towards the staircase again, but his dad grabbed the waistband on the back of his jeans and snatched him back with ease. Another sob left him because he couldn't get away.

"Where ya going, Drake?"

"Please, I've had enough," he begged.

"See, I just don't think you have," the man disagreed, then he grabbed a fistful of his son's hair and started dragging him across the floor by it.

"AHH-OW! As an attempt to lessen the pain in his scalp, he clutched Martin's arm and allowed himself to be pulled along.

They stopped at a wooden table, where his dad kept his tools. Drake was yanked up and shoved onto it so that his stomach crashed against the top of it. He tried to straighten, but the man leaned against him, putting his weight on top of him to keep him in place. He grabbed the boy's hand, then pulled it over to the steel vice, which is a tool used to hold things in place.

"Don't..." Drake tried to pull away, but he wasn't strong enough.

Mr. Parker put his son's left forearm between the strong jaws, then twisted the spindle so that they would close.

"Please!" the boy choked out as he stared on in horror. He felt the steel getting smaller and smaller until it was squeezing him tighter than a blood pressure cuff. "You're crushing it!" he yelled with fear as his father kept going. More sobs left him. "Please!" he begged. "Dad!"

Finally, Martin stopped and Drake felt the weight lift from his back. He reached over with his free hand and pulled at one of the jaws, but it wouldn't budge. He tried yanking his arm out, but it wouldn't move at all.

"Ow..." he whined, then he reached for the spindle to get his arm out the slow way.

However, before he could start, his father gripped his free hand and pulled it down to one of the table's legs, then he snugly secured Drake's wrist to it with three zip-ties. They were so tight that these hurt, too.

"What are you doing?" the boy asked fearfully now that he was bent over the table top. He felt his dad reach around him and begin unbuckling his belt, then it was pulled out of the loops. Drake rested his forehead against the table as he wept. Although at this time in his life he could count on two hands how many times he had been raped since the abuse had began a year ago, he knew exactly what was about to happen to him. "Please, don't." He felt his jeans and boxers being pulled down to his ankles, leaving his rear end exposed. "Please, I'll do better. I'll be better."

Tired of hearing his mouth, Martin grabbed a nearby roll of duct tape, then put it over his son's lips. He wrapped the roll around Drake's entire head three times, then tore off the end.

He continued to beg, but it only came out as, "Mmm. Mmm." All he could do was listen as Mr. Parker removed his own clothes and wait while the man got himself hard. Drake was full-on crying when Martin thrust into him without any sort of lubricant. The boy pulled at his restraints, but he couldn't get free. "MMMM!" he yelled suddenly when the man popped him with the belt whilst pumping into him. He was given another whooping. "MMMM!" His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He tried begging him to stop, but it was no use. "Mmm! Mmm! Mmm! MMMM!"

This went on for another three and a half minutes until Martin released inside of him. Drake was sobbing so much that his nose was stopping up and, since the tape was covering his mouth completely, this made it extremely hard to breathe.

His dad still wasn't finished with him after the rape. He wrapped Drake's belt around his hand and continued to beat him until he was raw and bleeding. The boy's muscles were tensed and he winced with each one. His hands, one trapped inside the vice and the other zip-tied to the leg of the table, shook with a mixture of fear and pain and humiliation. Even when Martin twisted the spindle in the opposite direction, letting his left arm lose, Drake remained where he was. He couldn't walk. He couldn't put his clothes back on. He couldn't sit. He could barely move.

His dad grabbed his hand, then began bending his fingers backwards. "You had enough?"

Drake couldn't speak because he still had the tape over his lips, so he nodded his head.

"Are you sorry?"

Another nod.

"Are you gonna sit in class and keep your stupid mouth shut and do all your work from now on?"

The boy's nod was more rapid because he felt like his fingers were going to break now.

"Say yes, sir."

"Mm, mm."

"You're not gonna speak to anyone, are you? You're gonna keep your head down and only speak when spoken to by your teacher. I'll make sure Mrs. Hayfer knows this and tells me if you disobey. You understand?"

"Mm, mm." Nod.

"And I'm not gonna get anymore phone calls from your school complaining about your behavior and your grades, will I?"

"Mm, mm." He shook his head. Drake visibly relaxed when his father stopped bending his fingers back.

"Good. Even though you're getting a zero, I still expect you to do your fucking project and do it well enough to get what would've been a one hundred if you weren't such a fucking retard. Okay?"

"Mm, mm."

Suddenly, Martin started tearing away the tape. When he got down to the last layer, he ripped it away from Drake's skin and hair violently. After that, he grabbed a pair of heavy duty scissors out of the drawer and cut away the zip-ties, then he snatched his son's hair and pulled him up so that he was no longer leaning over the table. This irritated the welts that stretched from Drake's lower back all the way down to his calves and it showed on his face.

"You'll be staying down here until you can walk normal enough to return to school."

"Yes, sir," Drake whispered regretfully. He hated it down here.

"And I better not hear a fucking peep outta you. Understand?"

The boy's eyes were still wet as he shamefully wrapped his arms around his small frame. "Yes, sir."

"Go lay down."

He pointed to a corner. On the floor were some soft things Drake had once found to make a sort of bed for himself. It was comprised of oil-covered washrags, dirty old tee shirts, a torn quilt and some newspaper. This hardly helped. The concrete was so hard and freezing and all of these things were thin and almost useless. However, it was better than having nothing between his bare skin and the cold, solid floor.

Drake could hardly walk over there. He groaned and hissed at the pain in his backside, but finally he made it and that had been the easy part. He slowly bent his leg to get closer to the ground, then he dropped onto his knee with a sob. He couldn't handle anything touching his bare bottom, so he left his pants and underwear off. He removed his shirt, the last article of clothing he had been wearing, and balled it up, then he carefully lowered himself onto his stomach and used the shirt as a pillow.

As he did all this, Martin went over to a shelf and grabbed a few buckets that he had stacked there. He put them on the floor next to his son. These were for him to use the bathroom in. The man then went upstairs and did a quick search around the kitchen. His eyes landed on a milk jug that was half buried in the trash can. He pulled it out and gave it a whiff, then jerked it away from his face quickly as he crinkled his nose. There was still a bit of milk in it, but they'd trashed it because it had gone sour. He went over to the sink and poured out the expired contents, then he gave it a half-assed rinse before filling it up with the sink water. He carried this back to the boy and set it down on the floor.

"You don't get up from that spot. Do you hear me?" he said.

Now Drake wasn't just stuck in the basement. He was confined to one tiny spot in the corner of the basement, making his prison even smaller. He hadn't planned on going anywhere anyway due to the pain, but knowing that he couldn't even if he wanted to made him feel claustrophobic.

"I don't hear a yes, sir!" He raised his hand threateningly and Drake immediately protected his head.

"Yes, sir," he replied quickly.

"If I come down here and you're not there, I'll bust your ass all over again. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

With that, he was left alone and he stayed that way for the next five days and six nights.

*END FLASHBACK*

Drake swallowed the lump in his throat. He was going to throw up. He could feel it, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to do anything that would make Julio feel guilty about going off on him because like his friend had pointed out, he did it all the time, although unintentionally. When Drake looked into those rage-filled eyes, he no longer saw Julio. He saw his father standing there and despite it being a hallucination, it felt so real. His heart pounded against his chest so fast and hard that it hurt and he couldn't move. Martin looked pissed, like he was back for vengeance. Drake imagined what it would feel like to have his throat sliced open with a sharp blade and he wondered if he would die of blood loss or if he would choke on it and go that way. He preferred dying of blood loss because that one sounded less painful, but on second thought, getting strangled would probably be the faster way to go. He remembered when he had accidentally nicked one of his dad's major arteries. He had bled out in seconds. Drake had been unable to do anything except clutch the wound in a pathetic attempt to stop the bleeding while his father called him a piece of shit. Those were his last words to him and they were engraved in his brain just as permanently as WORTHLESS COCK-SUCKING SLUT was carved into his abdomen. His father had been right. He was a piece of shit. It was a fucking shame that his suicide attempt had once again failed.

"You're doing it, aren't you?" Martin asked.

Drake's meek voice expressed his confusion. "What?" he almost whispered, fearful as his father took a step closer.

"You're spiraling," the man said, "and now I'm supposed to feel bad and take back everything I said."

Drake felt trapped and his breathing picked up. His fear had him sweating and shaking and his throat was dry as he looked up at that familiar face towering over him. He didn't understand what he was asking, but he knew he was furious. His voice was almost inaudible when he said, "No, Dad..."

"What did you call me?!" He was offended and when Drake blinked away some of the water that was blurring his vision, he realized that Martin Parker hadn't been there at all.

"Julio. I meant Julio," he tried.

"You really got me confused with that piece of shit?!"

"He's not..." Sticking up for his father was a habit that he had and it would probably piss the boy off even more if that was possible. "You're not-"

"I'm nothing like that sick fuck!"

"I know." Time for damage control. "I didn't mean to — it's not you. It's my shit."

"I finally open up to you about my feelings and I get accused of being a murderer/rapist because of it?!"

"It was an accident," the boy tried.

Whether it was an accident or not, the thought was there. To be honest, Julio wasn't even mad at Drake about it. He had seen that look of fear in his friend's eyes. He was probably right. Julio was probably acting a lot like Mr. Parker, which made him hate himself, so he wasn't mad at Drake for getting him confused with his abusive, alcoholic, piece of shit father. He was mad at himself for giving Drake the opportunity to get him mixed up with Martin, but he was taking the blame out on Drake because he refused to admit to himself that he could be anything like that man.

"Julio..." Drake started when his drunk friend turned to leave. He didn't get the chance to say more before the boy was gone.

When Ricardo got back from his car about ten minutes later, he walked in to find the patient sobbing his eyes out. "Hey, what's wrong?"

He wasn't about to tell Ricky about the conversation he'd had with his brother, so he blamed it on something else. "My chest fucking hurts." This was actually incredibly true and his sobbing made it even worse.

"I'll go ask for another pain pill."

"I already did," he said. Again, this was true. He'd been desperate for something that would take the edge off after the argument, even just a little bit. "They won't give me another one." He had a couple hours to go before it was time for another pill.

"Lemme talk to them. Just hang tight, okay?"

With that, Ricardo left the room and, sure enough, he returned with a nurse in tow a few minutes later. Drake was given the pain medicine, but it wasn't strong enough to make him forget about the fact that his best friend hated him for ruining his life. He didn't say a word to Ricky. He just cried for a really long time until he finally drifted off into a restless slumber.

Drake was surprised when Julio accompanied his brother to visit him the next morning. It was obvious the boy had a hangover, but he definitely hadn't drank enough to forget what he'd said. Drake was willing to talk through things, but he wasn't going to be the one to bring it up for fear of pissing his friend off again.

"Hey," Ricardo said with furrowed brows as he set his bag down.

Drake was already awake despite the time and he was wearing an oxygen mask with a smoky-looking substance emanating from it. "Hey," he said, but he wasn't sure if they heard his muffled voice over the sound of the oxygen being pushed through the tube.

"What's going on?"

He reached up and pulled the mask down so that he could be heard this time. "It got really hard to breathe," he said. "They're gonna take me for x-rays again to check on my lung."

"Is the oxygen mask helping?"

"Yeah." He then asked, "What's that?"

Ricardo followed his eyes to the bag he had brought. "I just got some stuff together for if anyone gets bored during the down time." He went over to the machines and checked the boy's vitals.

"Like what?"

"Crossword puzzles, Phase 10, Uno, magazines — oh, and Dee let me borrow a book: The Catcher In The Rye. I read it back in high school and I thought you'd prefer me reading to you over watching court shows on tv all day. It's one of my favorites...and a healthy break from those drug books you've been reading."

"I think I've heard of it. That's the one Mark David Chapman was holding when he shot John Lennon, right?"

"Yeah."

It was getting hard to breathe again, so Drake put the oxygen mask back on. He debated on whether or not he should say something to Julio. He didn't want to say nothing and make things more awkward than they already were — plus, he didn't want Ricardo to notice the animosity between them — but he also didn't want to just say hey like nothing had every happened.

He settled with, "How are you?"

"I'm okay," the boy said back.

Drake left it at that.

It was only eight in the morning and Julio was drinking already. He wasn't going to get drunk or anything today. He just couldn't handle getting through the day sober. His anxiety had been at an all-time high. He was having panic attacks on a weekly basis, or he had been before he started drinking.

He sighed when he heard the staff rolling Drake's hospital bed back into the room. He put the lid back on his flask, then opened the door to the bathroom so that he could hear the update. He wished he didn't care, but he did. No matter how much hatred he felt for him right now, he would never stop loving him.

"Is the tube working?" Ricardo asked Dr. Sarkov.

"It's working," the man said, "but I'm afraid it's not working quick enough." He had one of Drake's x-rays with him because showing him a visual representation would make it easy for him to understand. "You see, the lung has a membrane around it, sort of like a shell. The air is leaking out of the puncture wound and going in between his lung and his membrane and it's doing it faster than the tube in his side can suck it out. Therefore, that space is growing larger, making his left lung collapse even further." The doctor then passed the x-ray to one of the nurses nearby, then held his hands in front of his chest to demonstrate this next part. "As more air enters that space, it forces the lung to move over towards his heart. This pressure can lead to a pneumothorax in his right lung, heart attack, or even cardiac arrest."

Ricardo felt himself panicking at this news, but he kept his cool expression because he knew that Drake was watching him and he didn't want him to freak out. "So what can we do?" he asked a bit too shakily.

"We're going to put a larger tube in his side to get the air out quicker and we're hoping that this will solve the problem."

"If it doesn't?" Julio asked because he knew his brother would never ask such a negative question.

"If it doesn't, then we'll be looking at surgery."

When Dr. Sarkov left them, Ricardo exhaled out of his nostrils, then approached Drake's bedside. He rubbed his bicep, then softly asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm scared," the boy admitted quietly.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay."

It wasn't dying that Drake was scared of. He honestly didn't care which outcome he got. The thought of the amount of pain he was going to be in is what frightened him. "They're gonna strap me down again. I don't want them to restrain me." Another thing that terrified him — possibly even more than the pain — was not being able to move. He already knew that this would send him back to his dad's house just like it had the first time. He hadn't even complained about the pain then. He'd just kept going on and on about being restrained and on the verge of a panic attack because of this until finally, they'd had to release him just so that he would stop wiggling around.

"I'll talk to them, alright?"

"They're not gonna listen," he said fearfully. The negativity was a response he'd probably learned from his father.

"Look at me. Just take a breath, okay?"

"I don't want them to restrain me," the boy said again. "They have to put me to sleep."

"I'll go find Dr. Sarkov and I'll talk to him, okay?" Ricardo said. "Okay?"

"Okay."

The man left the room and now it was just Julio and Drake. Neither one said anything about the day before. Well, Drake couldn't really say anything because he was on the verge of an anxiety attack, so whether Julio wanted to discuss what had happened or not, now wasn't the time. The patient's breathing was audible now and he reached over to one of the hooks for his oxygen mask. Julio watched him struggle for a short moment before realizing his friend needed help, then he walked over to the machines and handed Drake the mask. The young man gulped in deep breaths of air and pain shot through his chest with each one.

Despite their animosity, Julio empathized with his friend's panic and truly felt bad for him. "It's gonna be okay," he offered softly. "My brother's persuasive as hell. He'll convince them. Besides, they saw how you were the other two times they tried to strap you down. I don't think they would try again."

Drake was comforted by these words, but only slightly. He wouldn't stop freaking out until this was over.

"You're gonna get through this. We're all gonna get through this. You got it?"

The young man looked into his eyes and saw that Julio believed his own words. His confidence gave him hope, so he nodded his agreement.

Drake wasn't sure how, but Ricardo had really came through for him. He wasn't able to be put to sleep due to the fact that they needed Drake to breathe in certain ways while removing the chest tube, but Ricky had a nurse bring the boy a pill for his nerves and he got permission to stay by his friend's side. Drake didn't know how he had done this, but he'd been gone a while. He probably had to talk to the surgeon directly. She was a kind-spoken woman named Dr. Fender and Drake liked her. She had done the procedure for him the last time and had complimented on the tattoos on his forearms while waiting for the local anesthetic to kick in. She liked the War Is Over one a lot and the two had discussed their favorite John Lennon songs. Ricardo had probably told her some of Drake's past, he figured. It wasn't anything she wouldn't see on his file if she looked anyway. No matter what, Martin followed him around everywhere he went, even this long after his death. He didn't care what his friend had told her, though, because he couldn't imagine things going too well if he'd been restrained.

"Is it beginning to feel numb yet?" the pulmonary surgeon asked from behind her blue mask.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered nervously.

When they began the procedure, Drake's hand was free of the strap. Instead, he rested it above his head like he was supposed to and Ricardo held onto it for both comfort and to keep him from moving. He was still technically restrained in a way, but he trusted Ricky and Drake was extremely appreciative that they had allowed him to be here.

"Okay, you might feel some burning as I take out the old tube," the surgeon warned. "It'll take a few seconds and I need you to hold your breath for me, okay?"

Drake nodded, then did as she instructed him. Like she had said, he did feel a burning sensation, so he closed his eyes. The young man liked her because she was vocal about what she was doing and she didn't lie to him about when he would feel pain and how much there would be. She had told him last time that she'd had to have this procedure done herself years ago when she'd had fluid around her lungs that had needed to be drained, so she knew first-hand what Drake was going through.

Dr. Fender had to cut into the skin some more so that there would be room for the bigger tube. After this, she inserted a Kelly clamp and stretched the hole open. Drake immediately tried to stop her, but Ricardo had a tight grip on his wrist.

"Hey, look at me," Ricardo said.

Drake did. He was wearing his own mask and matching blue smocks. There was a hat over his head, so the boy could only see his eyes really, but they were soft and fearless despite his own concerns.

"You're okay," the man reminded calmly.

Drake involuntarily tried to pull away again when he felt the surgeon insert her finger right into his side and begin feeling around. Ricardo kept his arm pinned above his head. Moments later, they were told that she would begin inserting the tube and although he had gone through this once before, Dr. Fender told him what to expect.

"Just keep your eyes on me," Ricardo said. He could feel his friend's hand trembling. "You're almost done." He felt bad when Drake's eyes watered over. He wanted to cry himself, but he wouldn't.

"How are we doing, Mr. Parker?" Dr. Fender asked.

"It hurts," he said when he felt the tube being inserted into the hole where the Kelly clamp and a finger still was. "It really fucking hurts," he groaned.

Ricardo tightened his grip to stop Drake from doing God knows whatever he would've accidentally done had his hand been free.

"You're doing great," the surgeon said.

"I need...I need to know how much longer."

Drake was the kind of person that could take a considerable amount of pain as long as he had a specific time he could expect the pain to stop or at least lessen. A lot of times when this question was asked, doctors would lie just to offer some sort of comfort. Dr. Fender, however, was honest.

"Fifteen seconds," she said.

Ricardo watched Drake's hand clench into a fist and a tear silently fell down the boy's cheek. He needed to distract him because fifteen seconds could feel like a lifetime to someone in pain. "Look at me. You're almost done. You want me to count with you?" After the boy nodded, he began. "Fifteen... Fourteen... Thirteen..."

Another tear fell down Drake's cheek, but his eyes were locked on Ricardo's and he didn't even break his gaze to blink.

"Twelve... Eleven... Ten..."

Drake felt a rush of pain shooting through him and couldn't stop from exclaiming, "Fuck!" This time, he tried to move both of his hands, but his friend held them both down.

Still, Ricardo kept counting. "Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five... Four..."

"Done," Dr. Fender interrupted. She removed her finger and the clamp, then began suturing the tube in place so that the seal was as airtight as possible.

"It's over," Ricardo repeated.

"You did great," the woman said.

The pain did lessen substantially now that his skin wasn't being pulled open as far and nothing was moving around inside of him, but it did still hurt quite a bit.

"We'll get you some pain medication and I'm gonna send you for more x-rays just so we can have complete confirmation that the tube is in the right place. You know the drill," Dr. Fender said. "You might feel a little sore for a while, but if you start getting pains in your chest, you make sure to tell one of the nurses or the doctor on your floor, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Ricardo was still holding his arm in place just in case he felt pain while the surgeon was bandaging him. He offered a warm smile and said, "You did great."

"How'd he do?" Julio asked when his brother came back into the room.

"He was in some pain, but it went by pretty quickly."

"Where is he now?"

"Getting x-rays."

"You think it'll work this time? This new tube?"

"I think it will." Ricardo tiredly plopped down in the uncomfortable chair with a sigh. "This has been one nightmare of a week."

"It's been four days."

"Is that all?" the man joked back, then he looked at his phone when he heard it ding.

After a moment, Julio asked, "Is that work?"

"No, Dee was asking about Drake." He typed a reply, then continued. "And he said he's off today and wants us to come by and have a home-cooked meal when we can."

"That's nice of him. I was getting kinda tired of burgers."

"Have you spoken to Mrs. Hayfer? Is she still coming?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure she is. She'll probably come by after school lets out."

"So I'll tell him, like... I forget what time the high school lets out."

"Shit, me, too. Three-something, right?"

"I'll tell him four thirty."

Julio watched his brother send the message, then he asked, "So are you and Dee...?"

The man put his phone away now that he was finished with that conversation, but he still didn't meet his brother's eyes. "I don't really know what we are. We haven't discussed it. I think we're both just waiting for the chaos to die down a little."

"I really hope things work out. He's a really cool guy," the boy said, "and I could tell he made you really happy."

"Yeah, he did," Ricardo said with sadness in his voice. "I guess we'll just have to see how it goes."

Drake woke up to Ricardo's faint voice whispering, "-and they had to put a larger tube in."

"Oh, no." This was Mrs. Hayfer.

"Yeah, I think it wore him out. He's pretty much been sleeping all day."

"Ricky?" the boy said so quietly that they almost didn't hear him.

When the man saw that he was awake, he went over to him. "Hey, you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Drake said.

"You breathing okay?"

"Yeah."

"You feel any pain?"

"A little," said the patient. "But just the normal pain."

Ricardo nodded. "Julio and I were gonna grab something to eat. Mrs. Hayfer's here. She's gonna hang out with you for a while. Is that cool?"

"Yeah."

Quieter so that only his friend could hear, he said, "Be nice, okay?"

"I'm always nice."

Ricardo cracked a grin at this, then spoke at his normal volume again. "And before you start hounding her — because I know you will — no food."

Drake rolled his eyes and frowned.

"Okay?"

"Okay." He was annoyed and it showed, but Ricardo was just glad to see a bit of the old Drake returning.

"We'll probably be back in an hour — two tops."

"It's okay. You don't have to babysit me all the time," Drake said. Maybe pushing him away would push him closer to his brother.

"Well, someone's grumpy." This is a good sign, Ricardo thought.

"I'm not grumpy," the boy said grumpily.

Ricky gave his shoulder a pat, then turned back to Alice. "Good luck with him. He's in a mood."

"Not in a mood."

After the man was gone, Mrs. Hayfer approached Drake's bed. Somehow, he just now noticed the balloon that she was carrying. It read "Bee well" and it had a cute little bee buzzing away past some flowers. It was lame, Drake thought, but at the same time...it was nice. His eyes even lit up slightly when he saw it. Despite his many trips to the hospital, the last time he had been given a get-well-soon balloon was the summer his dad had put him in the hospital. His mother had went all out with balloons and flowers and such as if that would make up for abandoning him for two months.

"I got you a balloon," the woman said and she passed it to him.

Drake gripped the string and pulled it down so that he could look more closely at the picture.

"Sorry, it kinda looks like it's for a little girl. The selection was very limited."

Drake didn't mind. It would definitely bring some color to this boring, dreary room. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

She was surprised when she saw him attempt to tie the end of the string to his wrist rather than the bed and it made her feel like he really appreciated it. Alice could tell that he was struggling to tie the knot with only one hand, so she went over to the left side of the bed and said, "Lemme help you." She made sure that it wasn't too tight so that it wouldn't cut off his circulation, but she also didn't give it much of a chance to slip off either. "I also brought you some things."

She set a large red birthday bag on the table where Drake's food would've gone had he been given any, then she reached her hand inside. She didn't see the look of confusion on the boy's face. "I brought some more of those HotHands...and these fluffy socks. I know they're ugly, but they're warm."

Drake watched her remove more things from the bag like it was Christmas morning.

"I got you some gloves because I didn't know if you liked the pinks ones I gave you. Here's a hat to match. It'll keep your ears warm." She lifted a colorful box out of the bag and it had two overly excited preteens girls making bracelets on the front. "I thought maybe if you were bored, you might like this. Maybe it can take your mind off things to do some arts and crafts. My husband really got a kick out of it when he was in the hospital. Don't tell him I told you that, though." Finally, she pulled out a wool blanket that had a ribbon tied around it to keep it neatly folded. It was thick and had a black and blue plaid pattern. "I wasn't sure which color was your favorite. I thought blue would be relaxing," she said. "I have one of these at home. I love them. It's the warmest blanket I've ever owned. Feel how soft." She passed it to him so that he could rub his hand against the wool.

"Wow," he said, but in a sad kind of way. Drake lifted his head and looked up at her. He'd never before thought of her as someone who would ever do this kind of thing, especially not for him. He'd honestly never looked at her like she was an actual human being. Accepting these things made him feel guilty, but he couldn't say no because that would hurt her feelings. "You didn't have to do all this."

"It's okay. I just wanted you to be comfortable."

With those words, Drake knew why she had done this. "You don't have to feel bad."

"I know," she said. "I just...maybe if I hadn't done the chest compressions so hard...and now you have all these extra problems. I mean, you probably would've already been out of here or close to it if it weren't for the broken ribs."

"No, I would've been dead," the boy said. He had been told by his doctor that the early administration of CPR had saved him. He could've survived without it possibly, but he would've been a brain-dead vegetable, which was worse than dying. He looked down and absently slid his fingers up and down his new blanket. "I don't really know yet how I feel about still being here and I don't know if it was for the best or not," he admitted, "but I do know that you did the right thing. I keep causing my best friends a great deal of pain and it would've been a thousand times worse for them if I would've succeeded — if you and your husband didn't do what you did. For that, you should be proud."

The corners of her lips twitched upwards just barely, but they did. "I just wish things were different. I never gave you a real chance before writing you off and I should've been more vigilant."

"I think we've both done a few things to one another that we're really sorry for," he said. He would never understand how she could be so nice to him after catching him with her husband. He lifted his head and met her eyes. "You're very kind," he said. "I didn't know that before."

"Well, I was never really kind to you."

"I wasn't kind to you either," he said. "I guess Josh was right all along. You're pretty cool."

"Cool?" She grinned at this. "Well, I must say that's a first."

Drake smiled, too, then he said, "Thanks for being here. I know Ricky and Julio get tired of me being so annoying and helpless all the time."

"I think they just wanna see you get better," she said.

After his fight with Julio, Drake wasn't so sure about this anymore.

She then added, "We all do."

"Anyway," Mrs. Hayfer read aloud, "I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around — nobody big, I mean — except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff — I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy."

Before she could go on, she heard Drake say, "I like that part," then he asked, "What's it mean?"

"Well, it's about protecting the innocence of children. Holden sees this as a primary virtue, which probably stems a lot from his own struggles with growing up."

"Oh, okay." The young man felt like he could relate to the main character a lot in this way. He nodded for Mrs. Hayfer to go on, but before she could, she heard the door open behind her and turned to see Ricardo.

The first thing he noticed was the mess Drake had on his table, then he saw the teacher with a book in her hand. "What's going on in here?" he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I'm making bracelets," Drake said.

"I see."

Alice stood and went over to the sink to grab a tissue. She folded it neatly, then stuck it in between the pages of the book so that it would act as a bookmark.

"Wow, you guys got really far. I didn't realize I was gone so long. Sorry," he apologized to the woman.

"No, don't worry about it. I'm always glad to give you a break." Mrs. Hayfer began gathering her things so that she could head home and allow Julio to take her place.

"So how are you liking the book?" Ricardo asked his friend.

"You were right. It's really good."

The man then noticed the red bag and said, "What's all this?"

"Mrs. Hayfer brought me some things to stay warm," he replied, "and this bracelet-making kit." As he spoke, he never looked up from the table, where he was working on a pink and green colored bracelet.

Ricardo didn't go through the bag, but he saw a variety box of HotHands and a thick blanket underneath. He knew that it had to have been pretty pricey, especially that nice-looking blanket. "Wow, that's very kind of you," he told her.

"It's no problem," she said.

When he saw that she had her things, he said, "I'll walk you out. I'll be back, okay?"

"'Kay," said Drake.

He walked with her all the way to the car and thanked her again for the things she had brought his friend. He asked how much she had paid for everything and pulled out his wallet, but she refused to take any money. Ricardo continued to express appreciation on his own and Drake's behalves, then she promised to come back tomorrow. They said their goodbyes and Ricardo closed her door for her, then he headed back up to the fourth floor and swung by to get his brother from the waiting room before going back to Drake's room. When they arrived, there was a young nurse that had been working the day the boy had first gotten admitted. Her name was Aniyah. She had dark skin and even darker hair and she had sparkling emerald green eyes and beautiful lips that lit up the room when she smiled. As the Santos brothers stepped into the room, they heard her complimenting the bracelet that the patient had just finished. It was obvious by her demeanor that she meant it and wasn't just saying that to gas Drake up or to be friendly because she was getting paid to do so.

"You can have it if you want," the boy said.

"Really?" Her eyes lit up.

"Sure." He passed it to her. "It matches your eyes."

It was because her eyes were green and she had on soft pink frames. He didn't mean for it to sound so flirtatious, but once it left his mouth, he realized that it did. She was hot as fuck, but she wasn't the type that you would call hot. She was the type that you would drool over and keep repeating to her how pretty she was. During some other time in his life, he would've been all over this girl, but right now, even though he knew he shouldn't be, he was still stuck on Clementine.

"Aw, thank you! You're so sweet." She put it on immediately, then tossed Drake's empty IV bag away and bounced out of the room after trashing her gloves and squirting antibacterial soap onto her hand. Aniyah gave the other two boys a friendly hello as she went.

"Damn, dude," Julio said. "I think she's into you."

He already had his head down and was beginning another bracelet. "Not if she's read my charts. I'm fucking crazy."

"You're not crazy," Ricardo said. "You're life's a little hectic, yeah, but you're not crazy."

He changed the subject. "What did you guys eat?"

"Nunya."

"You're really not gonna tell me?"

"So you can sit there and drool about it? No, I'm not."

"What's all this," Julio asked when he crossed the room and saw the red bag sitting against the bed.

"Mrs. Hayfer brought some stuff," Drake said.

"Wow... So what, are you two, like, friends now?"

The young man couldn't answer because he could feel a strong wave of nausea suddenly race from his throat. He dropped what he was doing and leaned over the edge of his bed where his trash can was sitting. This quick movement hurt his ribs, but that was nothing compared to the forceful puke that shot out moments later. Julio could see the pain that he was in, so he approached his sick friend in between rounds and lifted the can so that Drake could take it and lean back against the bed. While he was doing this, his brother was wetting some paper towels.

About a minute later, Julio asked, "You done?"

Drake nodded pitifully and wiped away the tears from his eyes. He wasn't crying, but his eyes had watered over from retching so hard. Julio took the trash can into the bathroom and dumped the gross contents into the toilet, then he turned on the shower and grabbed the nozzle off of the hook so that he could clean it out. Back in the room, Ricardo was wiping up the splatters on the floor next to Drake's bed that had missed the garbage can.

"I'm sorry," the patient said helplessly.

"Hey, it's okay." He had to leave the napkins in the floor until Julio got back, so he went over to the sink and washed his hands. "We need to mention this to your doctor the next time he comes in. You haven't been able to hold down anything they're giving you through the tube."

"It's okay. It's just the pain medicine making me nauseous."

"We still need to tell them."

"They'll stop giving it to me."

"They'll give you something different," the man said, "or something to help with the nausea."

Drake weakly pushed away the roll-away cart. He wasn't in a bracelet-making mood anymore. He just wanted to lay there and do nothing. He didn't even have the energy to talk. After all the mess was cleaned up and everything was back to normal, he fell asleep listening to his friends talk.

Drake didn't want to wake up. He was the kind of sleepy where it takes several blinks just to clear up the blurry vision and he had to really fight just to be able to hold his eyes open despite how dimly lit his room currently was.

"Rise and shine," came Ricardo's cheerful, teasing voice.

Drake turned his head towards his voice and said, "Hey."

"Did you have trouble sleeping again last night?"

"A little."

"Any nightmares?"

"No," he said.

"That's good."

The young man was nauseous already. He tried his best to push those feelings away, but it was too early to be strong enough to fight it. "I'm gonna..."

Ricardo knew what was up the second he saw his friend gag. He quickly grabbed the trash can and gave it to the boy, who immediately threw up. Ricky frowned sympathetically and pet Drake's hair. "Dr. Sarkov came in earlier and said he wanted to get more x-rays when you woke up to see if the new tube was working. I was outside on the phone with Georgiana, but Julio talked to him. He mentioned all the nausea and vomiting and Dr. Sarkov said he wanted to do some blood work to be sure it's nothing internal before changing around your medicine."

That was two things he already had lined up for the day and it upset him. "I'm so tired," he whined. "I wanna go home."

"I know," the man said. "Soon."

Julio wondered if Drake regretted his suicide attempt now that he was dealing with — not only the emotional — but physical repercussions of it. He hoped that his friend always remembered how miserable this moment in his life was because maybe that would help deter him from another attempt later. Although he felt this way, he also felt bad when Drake started crying, so he joined his brother, but on the other side of the bed, and he rubbed the boy's back.

Drake didn't know why he couldn't hold in his tears. Maybe he had just woken up in a really bad mood this morning. He was drained and overwhelmed and he just wanted to be back home in his own bed eating real food and watching things on tv that he actually liked. He wanted to not be in so much pain all the time.

"The x-rays won't take long," Ricardo said soothingly as he sat down next to the patient and put his hand on his leg. "Maybe the tube worked and you'll be able to get it removed. Once that happens, you shouldn't be in here much longer."

"What if it didn't work?"

"It worked," the man assured.

"But what if-"

"It worked," he said again, but with a firmer tone. He spoke with so much confidence and faith that the other two boys believed him.

Even still, Drake continued to weep. He could feel Julio rubbing his back, which confused him. Just days ago, he had hated his guts. He probably still did. Julio just had a kind heart and hated seeing Drake suffer despite their recent fight. Just like his friend had told him, Drake was hogging all of the attention. He'd been doing this all week — all month even though he hadn't even been there. He had to stop being so outwardly emotional.

The young man sniffled, then wiped his eyes. "I'm okay," he said although more tears came. He was an emotional wreck and Ricardo saw this.

"Why don't I read to you?" the oldest suggested.

"I'm okay."

"It'll take your mind off things."

It wouldn't. "I said I'm fine, okay?!" he snapped.

Ricky backed off. "Okay."

Drake wanted to apologize. He was immediately overcome with a wave of guilt, but he needed Ricardo to stop focusing on his well-being all the time. Julio was suffering because of this and it wasn't fair. Things needed to change in their relationship. He needed to rely on himself more. That hadn't really worked out for him recently, but he was gonna try the single life for a while, so maybe the outcome will be different. He couldn't imagine ever being with someone other than Clementine. It would take a long time to get over her.

The other two young men stopped crowding him. Julio sat down and pulled out his phone while his brother stepped out to let Dr. Sarkov known that the patient was awake. Although Drake was dreading the x-rays and then the blood work, Ricardo felt it best to go on and get it over with. That way, he won't have to think about it anymore. Besides, maybe he'll get some good news and his mood will improve.

For the first time since he had arrived here, Drake picked up his cell phone off of the roll-around table. Facing the world had seemed too overwhelming before, but now he was curious what was happening in the lives of people who weren't stuck here. He had quite a few text messages and voicemails. There were some from Brett, Samantha, Gemini, FakeRicardo, RealRicardo, Julio, Rhinestone and Sawyer. That's so many people. He opened Julio's and Ricardo's first because he was pretty sure they were from the day he had ran out on them, which meant that they were now irrelevant and he wouldn't have to take the time to respond. Gem's, Rhinestone's and Sawyer's messages were all very similar. Apparently, they'd all seen some shit about the break-up on Facebook and were curious as to what had happened. Gemini also had another thing to say.

Gemini: uhhh so Josh is asking when ur gonna pick up ur cats? wtf is going on?

Drake had completely forgotten all about his kittens and he felt horrible for it. Also, he had no recollection of seeing Josh again. He wondered if he had done something he'd regret. Would he have slept with him? He probably slept with him. What a fucking mess.

He left that message unanswered because he wasn't sure when he'd get out of the hospital and he didn't want to have to tell Gemini where he was right now. Sam and Brett messaged in a group chat asking how he was doing and if he needed anything. They deserved more than an "I'm okay" text, but he really wasn't feeling too social at the moment.

Drake Parker: im ok srry to mKe u worry will call ltr

Samantha Watson: Drake! glad 2 hear from u! cant wait 2 hear ur voice. me and brett have been praying & thinking about u babe.

Drake Parker: he at work

Samantha Watson: yeah, he should be home around 5.

Drake Parker: ill call tben

Samantha Watson: :) :) :)

Despite knowing that it was a horrible idea, he read the text from Ricardo/Dahlia. Reading it knowing that it was from someone he had loved enough to propose to broke his heart. He wondered if she really believed her own words or if she'd just wanted to make Ricardo sound as hateful as possible. He felt like such a fool. He had been so fucking in love with her and not a single part of the last year was real. He felt betrayed and confused and humiliated and several other emotions — too many to name. Overall, the biggest question he had was why? Why had she done what she did? He pondered over this for a few minutes before realizing that, like always, he was finding ways to blame himself. Even after everything, he still felt like it was his own fault and she was innocent. Even after everything, he wanted to run to her and hold onto her tightly and listen to her tell him that everything would be alright. Why couldn't he hate her?

The young man angrily threw his phone down towards the foot of the bed. "God, I'm a fucking cuck."

Julio looked up from his phone, then pushed himself onto his feet. "Is she still messaging you? I can block her."

"No, it's okay."

"You're gonna call her out?" He wasn't sure whether or not this was a good idea, but it was Drake's decision to make and that bitch definitely deserved it.

"I don't know yet."

Ricardo soon returned and gave Drake the news that they were about to take him for the x-rays. He groaned, then rested his head against the pillow with a huff.

"I guess I'd better get going," Mrs. Hayfer said a few moments after Ricardo returned from his late lunch or early dinner. She stood, then she grabbed her jacket off of the back of her chair.

"Um, before you go..." Drake dragged the roll-around table closer, then pulled open one of its drawers and retrieved a bracelet. He held it out to her. "I made you this." He meant to give it to her earlier, but he was nervous for some reason. Maybe it's because he knew it was cheesy, but this was all that he could do to pay her back for everything she had done for him. "You said your favorite color is yellow and I used gray because — I don't know. I just like those colors together."

Mrs. Hayfer seemed surprised. She was touched by his gesture and it showed. The corners of her lips curved upwards into a smile. "Wow, thank you. You seem to be getting the hang of making bracelets." When she took it, she noticed that Drake was wearing one that looked just like hers. "You have a matching one."

"Yeah, so when I look at it, I'll remember that someone cared enough about me to save my life twice," he said, "even if you were the last person I would've expected to do that."

Alice felt her eyes water over. For a moment, she just stood there, stunned by his kind words. As a teacher, she tried and tried to get through to her students and although some liked her, she didn't often feel like she was connecting with them and teaching them anything of value. Today, she was proven wrong. Finally, she had made a real, positive impact on a young man's life and she would treasure that forever.

Drake was taken aback when she leaned over and carefully wrapped her arms around him. However, he accepted the embrace and hugged her back. He was saddened because she reminded him of his mom and how he had almost died and she never would've known. A long time ago, he had thought that this would be for the best, but now he thought differently. Maybe the napkin Meelah's parents had given him with his mom's address on it was stuck in his head or maybe being around Mrs. Hayfer so much lately was making him miss her, but he did. He really missed her.

When they pulled apart, Drake met her eyes and said with sincerity, "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," she said, "and I'll be back tomorrow." Since they had finished reading The Catcher In The Rye today, she asked, "Do you want me to bring another book?"

"Yes, please."

"Any requests?"

Ricardo spoke up. "Appropriate ones. I'm sure Mrs. Hayfer doesn't wanna read about drugs and sex and f-bombs."

Drake shrugged.

"I'll surprise you," she said, then she bid him farewell before allowing Ricky to walk her to her car.

While they were gone, the young man picked up his phone. It was almost 5:30, so he knew Samantha and Brett were waiting for his call. He went through his contact list and found the girl's number. It rang only twice before she answered.

"Hey, Drake!"

"Hey, sorry I'm a little late."

"Oh, it's okay."

"Hey, bro," came Brett's voice. "How are you?"

"I'm okay."

"We've got you on speaker because we're making dinner, but don't worry. It's just us two," the girl said.

"What are you making?" Drake asked. God, he couldn't wait until he could eat again.

"Pork chops and macaroni."

"I'm jealous."

"You don't like the food there?"

"I haven't really been able to eat anything. They've been feeding me through a tube." He felt embarrassed when he told them this — not because getting food through a tube was embarrassing, but because he had tried to kill himself, failed and was now facing the consequences. "I've been throwing up a lot, so they did blood work. Maybe after they figure out why, they'll let me eat."

"Maybe it's nothing. I mean, you throw up a lot in general because of your nerves, right?"

"Yeah. I tried to tell them that I think it's just the medicine they have me on because that's mostly when I get sick, but I guess they just wanted to be sure."

"Better safe than sorry."

"So how are you doing?" came Brett's voice. "You making progress or...?"

"Yeah, my right lung collapsed the other day and they had to put a tube in to suck out the air, then a bigger one because the first one wasn't working fast enough, but they did x-rays today and said I should be able to get the tube removed tomorrow."

"That's good. What caused your lung to collapse?"

"One of my ribs punctured it. I've got seven broken ribs this time."

"Shit."

"Yeah, Ricky said they were doing CPR for a while and that I went into cardiac arrest four times."

"Fuck, bro..."

"Yeah..." Drake hated the awkward silence. "Um, I'm sorry if I upset you guys. That wasn't my intention."

"We just wish you would've come to us is all."

"I know. I'm not sure what happened. That day's kinda just a blur," he said. "I'm sorry about taking your pills. I shouldn't have done that. I didn't stop to think how you would feel."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, okay? We're just so relieved that you're getting better."

"Okay, sorry."

"Do you think you would be okay with us visiting?" Samantha asked.

"Yeah, but they're only letting family in while I'm in ICU. I'll let you know as soon as I get into a regular room."

"Have they been letting Ricardo and Julio in?"

"Yeah, we had to tell them that they're my brothers and Mrs. Hayfer and her husband are my parents."

"Mrs. Hayfer?" Brett questioned. "Like...from high school?" He was twenty-five, so he was too old to be in her class when Drake was, but she had taught math at that school for a long time.

"Yeah, she and her husband were the ones who found me. She's been coming in everyday and sitting with me for a while and reading to me."

"Aw, that's really nice," Sam said, then she heard him yawn. "Have you been bored up there? Do you need us to drop anything off with Ricardo?"

"No, thank you. Mrs. Hayfer bought me this bracelet-making kit, so I've been doing that and playing cards and watching Netflix mostly."

"Make me a bracelet," the girl said.

"What colors do you want?"

"Hmm...surprise me."

"Okay." Again, Drake yawned.

"You tired?" Brett asked.

"Sorry. Yeah. Today's been a busy day and I've been sleeping so much, but I keep getting woken up by nurses and doctors and stuff."

"Well, we won't keep you. Go on and get some rest."

"It was good talking to you," Samantha said. "Call us any time."

"Thanks. I will."

"Bye."

When Drake hung up the phone, he rested his head against the pillow and let go of his breath. When the two brothers returned five minutes later, they found him asleep.

Drake was already awake when the Santos brothers arrived the next morning. They found him spitting into the trash can in his hands, then he started puking again.

Ricardo frowned sympathetically. "Hey, Drake," came his soft voice.

The boy glanced up at them, sniffled and panted for air. "Hey," he said pitifully. He looked exhausted and drained, like he hadn't gotten much sleep. His face was pale and his eyes were dark.

"You look like shit," Julio said. "Did he come back and tell you the results from your blood work?"

Drake only shook his head and sniffled again.

"Are you nervous about getting the tube removed today?" Ricardo suspected as he brushed his friend's bangs away from his eyes and felt his forehead.

"I'm okay." He was so tired that it came out on a whisper.

"She'll be super fast," the man assured, "and I'm sure she'll let me in there after how well you did last time."

Drake took the wet paper towel his friend passed to him and wiped off his mouth. He kept his head low when Ricardo took the can from him to empty. "I'm sorry." He had tried to kill himself and in doing so, had put his friends through hell, yet here they were, cleaning up his puke because he was completely helpless.

As the patient brushed his teeth, Julio went over to the other side of the room and plugged his phone charger into an outlet. His phone let out a soft chime to confirm that it was charging. He then slid his back down the wall until he was sitting on his bottom. He pulled his laptop out of the bag that hung around his torso and set it down on top of his lap, then opened it.

When Ricardo exited the bathroom, Drake was pulling his four blankets — the top one from his former teacher — up to his chin. He noticed that the boy's fingers were trembling. "You cold?" he asked. "Did you run out of HotHands?"

"No, I accidentally knocked the bag off the shelf and now I can't reach them."

Julio was closer, so when he heard this, he set his laptop to the side and scooted up. He rolled the table away and saw the red bag resting sideways on the floor behind it, its contents spilled out. He gathered them up and put them back into the bag — all except one pack of hand warmers and one pack of toe warmers. He passed Drake the hand warmers and tossed his brother the others since he was standing.

"Thank you," Drake said quietly and Julio swore he hinted a bit of shame in his voice.

"You could've called a nurse in here," Ricardo said as he opened the pack and went over to the foot of the bed.

"I didn't feel like talking to anybody today," he said. He didn't mean them or Mrs. Hayfer; he meant the plethora of nurses that came in and out at all times of the day and night. He felt bad because they were sweet to him, but he just wished he was back home in his own bed.

"I'm gonna go see if Dr. Fender is in her office and make sure it's okay for me to be in there during your surgery," Ricardo said after he stuck the toe warmers onto Drake's socks and replaced his slippers. After that, he was gone.

Julio looked up at Drake, who was snuggled up and waiting for the warmers to kick in. "I guess you don't feel like quizzing me, do you?"

The young man reached his hand out from under the many blankets, so his friend scooted up and passed him the stack of flash cards he had made.

Drake blinked a few times until his vision cleared up. He lifted his arm and rubbed his heavy eyes while letting go of a tired moan, then he let go of his breath and turned to the seat that Ricardo was always sitting in, but this time, he found Mrs. Hayfer.

She offered him a warm smile. "Hey," came her soft voice.

"How long have you been here?" His voice was strained from exhaustion.

"Not long. Maybe ten minutes." She saw the boy rub his eyes again and asked, "Did you get your nap out?"

"Yeah, sorry. Today was so exhausting."

"I heard. How are you feeling? Any chest pains?"

"I'm okay," he said. "My throat's a little sore."

Alice saw him eye the grocery sack on the table with curiosity, so she reached over and pulled out its contents. "I checked out these books at the school library. I wasn't sure what genre you were into. Julio said reading's new for you and I should choose a couple different categories so that you can explore something new."

"What'd you bring?"

She held up the first book. "I got Maniac Magee. It's about an orphan boy and involves themes of racism and homelessness. I got Holes. You might have already read it back in school or seen the movie. Shia LaBeouf gets sent to a camp run by crooked people and he has to dig holes as punishment for stealing a famous basketball player's shoes." She picked up a thicker book. "I wasn't sure about this one. It's called Uglies. It's like a dystopian novel where you're considered ugly until you turn sixteen, then you undergo a surgery to make you pretty and you move into New Pretty Town. The main character's friend runs away to this refuge that opposes the government and she's given the ultimatum to find her and betray her friend or remain an Ugly forever. Does that sound like anything you would be into at all?"

Drake shrugged. "It sounds interesting. I'd be willing to give it a shot. It's not like I have anything else to do."

Mrs. Hayfer held up another book, this one lime green with nothing on the cover other than the title and a photo of a pair of pants at the top and the author's name printed in white ink at the bottom. "This is The Perks of Being a Wallflower. It's a coming-of-age story about a young man navigating his way through his freshman year of high school, then I got Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, which you probably already have a general idea of the plot, I'm sure." When the boy nodded, she picked up the final book. "This one is one of my favorites. It's called The Outsiders. It's about two rival gangs in the sixties, the Greasers and the Socs, one poor and one wealthy." When she finished, she looked up at Drake to get an idea of his thoughts. "I know they're all young adult books and nothing like the books Ricardo said you read, but it's the high school library."

"No, they all sound pretty cool," Drake said. "Do you feel like reading now?"

"Of course," she said. "Which one would you like to hear?"

"We can start with your favorite."

Alice was touched that he chose this one. She felt like it meant that he valued her and her interests. She picked up The Outsiders, then opened it to the first page.

Ricardo furrowed his brows and frowned slightly when he walked into Drake's hospital room. He could immediately tell the mood was somber, which meant that either his friend had received bad news or he was all caught up in his feelings. "What's going on?" he asked.

Instead of sitting in the chair like normal, Alice was sitting on the edge of the bed. She had been rubbing Drake's arm and softly speaking to him to offer him comfort, but now she turned to Ricky. "Dr. Sarkov came by and said they wanted to do surgery to stabilize his ribs and avoid the risk of him getting another puncture."

"I just wanna go home," Drake complained.

"I know," the man said sympathetically, "but we've gotta get you better first. They're gonna put you to sleep. You won't feel anything."

It wasn't the pain that Drake was worrying about — not for the most part anyway. Tomorrow, the day of his surgery, he'll have been here for an entire week. All he wanted was to go home and relax in his own bed unbothered for a couple days. He wanted to take a nice, long shower instead of having to resort to sponge baths and dry shampoo. He wanted to feel the privacy of a bathroom and not have to keep using a portable toilet that was pulled up right next to his bed in times of need. He wanted to eat. The feeding tube never quite satisfied his hunger and it just wasn't the same as biting into a big, juicy burger or greasy French fries. On top of that, he felt guilty for pulling Ricardo and Julio away from their lives. They were both here from sunup to sundown and had to deal with Drake's mood swings and helplessness. He had abandoned them both and he'd treated them poorly in the process, yet here they were. Even Mrs. Hayfer was here everyday for a couple hours either reading to or chatting with a guy she had once found doing sexual favors for her husband.

Alice continued filling Ricky in. "He also said the blood work came back fine, so he's gonna try a different pain medicine."

"That's good," he said in an assuring manner in hopes that it would make the boy feel better. "Once they change your meds around and get you to the point where you can hold down your food, they'll take you off the feeding tube."

This did actually seem to make Drake feel a little better.

Back in the waiting room, Julio was sitting in one of the chairs in the very corner and he rested his head against the wall next to him. He was exhausted and being here all day everyday for close to a week wasn't helping. The waiting room chairs were just as hard and uncomfortable as the one in Drake's room and when he was in his friend's room, he and Ricardo had to share the chair, so he often had to sit on the floor or on the edge of Drake's bed or stand . He just wanted to rest on an actual couch. It had been a long time since he'd been able to do what he'd actually wanted, like lay in bed all day, depressed and drunk. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to do, but he needed a break.

Suddenly, his phone chimed, alerting him of a text.

Ricardo Santos: wanna come on back? gonna walk Mrs. Hayfer out but drakes upset so i dont want him to be alone

Julio couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes, but he told his brother that he'd be there shortly. He loved Drake. He knew it probably didn't seem like it lately, but he did. Part of him felt guilty about the things he had said to him when he was drunk and angry, but for the most part, he was just glad to have gotten it off his chest. He had been carrying that around with him for so long and it felt like a weight had been lifted from him. He hadn't even been drinking as much. He still drank quite often, but he wasn't getting completely wasted every single day. Maybe only half of that was due to the relief he felt when he'd finally gotten those words out. He felt like another reason his alcohol consumption had lessened was due to the fact that his best friend had confused him with his rapist father. It had really stung at the time and he'd been pissed, but after he'd sobered up and looked back at the situation, he understood. Julio had been acting like a crazy, raging drunkard, which Martin Parker often did. When Drake was around this kind of behavior, his PTSD would kick in and he'd get flashbacks. It wasn't his fault and it wasn't him trying to make Julio feel bad. The boy's actions had triggered something in Drake. PTSD wasn't something that Julio understood well. His friend would have these moments like he was hallucinating or something. It was like he had hopped onto a time machine and traveled back in time to three years ago. He could never comprehend how the flashbacks could be so vivid and feel so real to Drake, but he knew that they did and he accepted that. His raised voice and venomous words had taken Drake back there and, for that, he felt guilty. He couldn't imagine what his best friend had been feeling. He couldn't imagine everything he had gone through. They didn't talk about it too much, but when he heard stories now, he couldn't fathom how he had never before noticed when they were teenagers. He should've seen it. To his credit, Drake had been constantly drugged up and, therefore, hid his emotions well if he even felt them. Now he was sober and everything got to him.

Julio passed his brother and former teacher in the hallway and he told her goodbye before going into Drake's room. "S'up?"

"I hate my life."

"Relatable." He plopped down into the chair next to the bed.

"What is wrong with us?"

Julio was taken aback by this question. "What do you mean?"

"We're not normal. There is something actually wrong with us."

"We just have issues, but that's normal. We just don't hide them as well as other men."

"I feel like you hide them alright."

"Well, Mama didn't raise no bitch, so..."

The corner of his lips curved upwards and he let out a chuckle. Still, Julio saw the smile fall and his eyes water over.

"Drake..."

"I know. I know." He closed his eyes and pressed his pointer fingers into the inside corners as an attempt to block the tears. He sniffled and it was muffled due to his nose being between his hands. He wanted to not cry; he really did. Sometimes, it just couldn't be helped. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a crybaby all the fucking time. It's so pathetic."

Julio could see that he meant his words and that he wasn't trying to manipulate him into feeling bad about blowing up on him the other day. "Where are you right now? Get out of your head."

"I don't even know why I'm crying." His tears still managed to get through, so he gently wiped them away with his index fingers. "Fucking hell," he whispered to himself. He felt ashamed and embarrassed. He needed a distraction. "How was your day? Can you tell me about your day?"

"My day?" Julio paused as he thought back on it. "It's not too eventful. I woke up, took a shower, got dressed," he listed. "I came here and hung out with you and my brother. Gemini texted me. I just told him you were okay and that you didn't feel like socializing and you'd call him as soon as you felt up to it."

The fact that his day had revolved entirely around Drake wasn't making the boy feel better and Julio noticed this. He did have other non-Drake things happen, but for some reason, they hadn't felt worth mentioning. He was purposely distancing himself from his best friend and he just now noticed it. It was like he didn't want to bother the boy with the little details of his life or maybe he felt like he didn't deserve to hear them. Either way, it was toxic behavior and he needed to cut it out.

"My professor approved the extension I asked for on my paper, which is good because I haven't even started it. I fucking hate English class." He most likely would've been late on this paper whether Drake was in the hospital or not due to general laziness. Plus, English was always at the bottom of his priority list. "My brother gave me shit about it when we ate, then he gave me a lot of ideas for topics because I guess that's what I've been struggling with most. After we ate, I went to the bathroom and when I came back, our waitress was hitting on Ricardo. She got all embarrassed when he told her he didn't play for her team and she assumed that I was his boyfriend even though we literally look just like one another. I cleared her up on that shit real fast, then — get this — then this bitch asked for my number after Ricardo went up to the register to pay!"

"What'd you do?"

"I took her pen and wrote the number to the Crisis Text Line because that child needs some fucking help."

Drake busted out laughing at this. He was still weeping a little, but he was beginning to feel much better other than the pain he felt in his ribs from laughing so hard.

He then pulled out a pen. "Stole that little bitch's pen, too, because it's one of those good pens that writes like markers." He twirled it around in his fingers, then held up his prize.

"You're such an asshole." He was crying again, but this time from laughter.

Julio's eyes landed on the bracelet making kit that Mrs. Hayfer has brought. "Aye, show me how to make a bracelet." He went around to the other side of the bed and grabbed the box.

"For you?"

"No, for Hannah."

"From study group?"

"Yeah."

"Did you finally ask her out?"

"No. Shut up. I'm stealing that move you did on that nurse the other day."

"I wasn't trying to hit on her."

Julio just shrugged. "I'm gonna make a bracelet. Hannah wears brown and yellow a lot, so I'll make that. She always has on tons of bracelets, too, so she'll definitely comment on mine, then I'll give it to her — the bracelet, I mean."

"Yeah, thanks for specifying."

"Don't be a jackass. Are you gonna show me how or not?"

"Yeah, whatever, Jesus. Just..."

Julio looked down at him when he trailed off and he could tell that the boy was overcome by a sudden wave of nausea. Drake was always nauseous now that he was taking this pain medicine, but sometimes an uncontrollable urge to vomit would come out of nowhere, like now. He couldn't wait until he started the new medication.

"You gonna hurl?"

Drake had his eyes closed and the back of his hand over his mouth, but he shook his head.

He's definitely gonna hurl. Julio lifted the trash can and put it in front of his friend and it was a good thing he did this, too, because the boy immediately started spewing vomit from his lips.

"Fuck, bruh."

The sick patient held the can in place with one hand and clutching his sore ribs with the other. Julio went ahead and wet a napkin for his friend to clean up with after, then he placed the small bottle of mouthwash Ricardo had bought onto the table.

"Fuck..." Drake panted, then he winced at the pain in his abdomen. He coughed, then gagged, then coughed again before more puke came up. He looked pitiful as he sat there drooling and spitting into the bucket while panting for breath. "...fuckin' chest hurts..." Tears stung his eyes again.

After another minute, Julio started to pull away the can. "You done?"

Drake couldn't speak. He only grabbed his hand to stop him while shaking his head. However, nothing more came up and the nausea subsided for the most part not too long later. Julio emptied the garbage can and rinsed it in the shower. When he exited the bathroom, his friend was laying with his head against the pillow and he was wiping the water away from his eyes.

"You tired? You wanna watch tv or nap?"

Drake shook his head and reached for the bracelet box.

"We can do that later."

"It's okay." His voice went in and out. He cleared his throat, but it still cracked. "I'm fine."

"I think you should rest."

"I wanna do it," the boy argued. "I need a distraction."

Julio gave in then and sat down in his chair. Drake gave him a quick tutorial, then let his friend take over while he rested and gave him tips along the way, then he fell asleep.

"Hey, Drake." Ricardo gently brushed his friend's bangs out of his eyes. "How was your surgery?"

"Good," the boy said absently on a whisper. He stared past the man at nothing in particular.

"You feeling okay?"

Drake nodded.

"He's still a little groggy and confused from the anesthesia," a nurse explained as she locked the brakes on the hospital bed she had just wheeled in. "If he starts complaining about discomfort, let one of us know. It's okay to put another pillow under his head, but we wanna keep these two under his back for now to have him angled on his side and we need to refrain from changing the position of the head and foot of the bed."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

"Here's your remote." She put it next to the patient's head, which was resting atop his folded arms.

He stared at her emptily.

"You press that nurses button if you need anything or if you have any issues, okay?"

Ricardo pushed for a response when the boy didn't give one. "Drake?"

He nodded.

She continued to fill the other two boys in on how the surgery went, when his symptoms would clear up, what to expect and what to look out for. When she was finished with that, Ricardo thanked her and she left. Julio hung back and allowed his brother to handle things because he didn't want to crowd and overwhelm his friend.

"You in any pain?" Ricky petted the boy's hair softly. "Drake?"

"M'cold."

Julio brought over his blankets from the closet and helped the oldest spread them out gently over the patient.

"Do you want some hand warmers?"

He didn't answer, but he got some anyway and put the boy's gloves on him, then slipped them inside and stuck the toe warmers onto the bottom of his socks, which he covered with his slippers.

"Ricky?" Drake whispered so quietly that he could hardly be heard.

"Yeah?"

"I don't feel good."

"I know." Again, he ran his fingers through the young man's hair. "It won't be much longer. They'll probably keep an eye on you for a couple days, start you on some actual food, then move you to a regular room for a little bit."

"I don't want you to go."

He furrowed his brows with confusion. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't want you to go at night."

"Hey, don't even worry about that. We've got all day. That's a long time from now."

"Will you watch movies with me?"

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, what do you wanna watch?" He started to pull out his phone, but his brother stopped him.

"Here, use my laptop. It's a bigger picture and you won't have to hold it the whole time."

As he went over to his bag to get it, Ricardo again asked, "What do you wanna watch?" but he didn't receive an answer.

"Do something with sharks or outer space or something Aronofsky," Julio said.

"Is that okay, Drake?" Still nothing. "Hey." He squatted down next to the bed to be at eye level, so his younger sibling started searching for a movie. "Are you okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Can you talk to me?"

"Mm-hmm."

He repeated his question to get confirmation. "Are you okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You'd tell me if something felt wrong?"

Drake shook his head this time.

"No?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Okay. You know I'm not trying to be annoying. I just want you to tell me if you start feeling different or weird."

"Mm-hmm." Drake paused. "I just don't feel like talking today."

"That's okay. Just keep me updated, okay?"

Nod. "'Kay."

Minutes passed before Julio said, "Bruh, all I can find on Hulu is Zathura." This was basically the outer space version of Jumanji.

"Isn't that a kids' movie?"

"At least it's light." He shrugged. "It's got Dax Shepard in it. He likes Dax."

"Is that okay?" he asked and he could just barely tell that Drake was nodding his head.

Julio set the computer up on the roll-away table so that it faced Drake and his brother, who had moved his chair up closer to the head of the bed. "Brett wanted me to call after the surgery, so I'm gonna step out for a few minutes."

Ricardo nodded.

"Mrs. Hayfer also texted and asked how the surgery went. Drake?" he said softly and the boy looked at him. "Do you feel up to having Mrs. Hayfer come by still or do you not wanna be social today?"

"Yeah."

"Which one? You want her to come?"

"Yeah."

Ricardo stopped his brother before he left. "Ask her, if it's not too much trouble, if she'll stop by the school library and check out a movie or two. I know they have the ones for teachers to check out in the back."

"Okay."

When he was gone, Ricky reached for the mouse and started the movie, then sat back in his seat.

"Drake? Hey, sweetie, wake up," Alice said softly as she patted the boy's forearm.

His eyes shot open suddenly with alert. Her soft blue irises were the first things he saw and they calmed him almost immediately.

"You were just having a nightmare," she said.

Drake groaned tiredly and pulled his blankets up closer to his neck. He rested his eyes again, but he remained awake. "How long have you been here?"

"Just a couple minutes."

"How are you?" Now that the anesthesia had fully worn off, his speech was much better and actually made sense.

"I'm okay. What about you?"

"I'm okay," he mirrored.

On the contrary, she could see his fingers trembling and she had heard him pleading with his deceased father in his slumber. She frowned sympathetically. She hated that he was feeling so scared and refused to admit it. Ricardo had told her about the PTSD that Drake sometimes suffered from. This was a sign he had told her to watch out for. Things could get bad if she didn't snap him out of it. "Don't give him time to get stuck in his head," he had said.

Alice reached out and gently took his hand, which caught the boy off guard. He opened his eyes and gazed at her and he could tell then that she knew what his nightmare had been regarding. She softly swept her thumb back and forth against the skin on the top of his hand

"I'm okay," he said again.

She still didn't let go of his hand, but he didn't mind. She reminded him of his mother in a way. God, he missed her. She would've been devastated had she known where Drake was and why. Even a week after it had happened, he still wished he would've succeeded, but he was beginning to feel really foolish for doing what he had done over a girl who had treated him like shit and had taken advantage of his fragile mind.

As she held his hand, he saw that she was still wearing her gray and yellow bracelet and she noticed that he was still wearing his. It was an unexpected friendship. That was for sure. He only wished that Josh were here to see it, but it was probably best that he wasn't. He used to think that about the time he and Mindy had first started actually getting along, but then things got really messed up. Josh would probably only think that Drake was trying to pull yet another person who had liked Josh better away from him.

"How did you deal with it," the boy started suddenly, "when you caught your husband with me?"

She was taken aback by the question, so she was quiet for a moment. "Well, I'm not sure. I was mad for a long time. There were days when I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him or even look at him. He apologized a lot, but it wasn't until the day you first got here that I think he really felt sorry about it. We've been trying to work things out. We still have our bad days, but...I think we'll make it through this."

"I didn't mean to cause so much trouble."

"I know. He could've said no. It's not your fault." Despite his genuine feelings of guilt, she knew he hadn't asked to pry into her personal life. "I don't think you should compare what happened to me to what happened to you. It's different. It'll take a long time for both of us to heal, but Garrett's working on changing. We've been together for a really long time and nothing like this has happened before. My husband's a good man. He really is. We've been going through a rough patch since we lost Daniel."

Her and Drake had never discussed her son, but after seeing his former teacher crying in the parking garage that day, Julio had filled his friend in to make sure he didn't say anything rude or triggering about the sensitive subject of suicide around her.

"We've argued quite a bit, but never has he ever treated me poorly or hit me. That being said, just because we're trying to work things out, it doesn't mean that would be best for you."

"Ricky told you."

It wasn't a question, but she confirmed it anyway. "Yeah."

"Well, what would you do if your situation was like my situation?"

Mrs. Hayfer thought for a moment. "Well, I did have a guy cheat on me back when I was in college."

"You did?"

"Yeah," she said. "I was in love with him, too. I thought he was the one, but I went to his dorm room one day to pick up a textbook I had left and caught him with Kelly Gursy."

"What did you do?"

"What any normal, sane person would do," she said. "I destroyed everything he lent me, slashed his tires and slept with his best friend, then I stole his school books and tore every single page out of each one so he'd have to buy more. That way, he wouldn't be able to spend money on another girl for a long time and maybe he'd even flunk his classes."

This surprised Drake although, if he would've heard this same story a month ago, he would've believed it. "Fuck..." he said, then he retracted. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said. "In hindsight, though, I may have went a little overboard. If I could go back, I'd probably just stick to slashing his tires."

"I don't think that would make me feel better."

"It won't," She shook her head. "but it sure as hell won't make it feel worse either." She paused, then said, "That's Alice giving you advice. Mrs. Hayfer would say that letting go is hard, but nothing can make an ex feel regretful more than learning how to move on. If you just go on with your life, be with your friends, find you a job or get into school or fall in love and marry, she's gonna look back one day and realize what she missed out on. It's tough, but letting go of her is the best kind of revenge," she said. "Mrs. Hayfer would also probably tell you something along the lines of I hate you."

This was something she used to say to him all the time back in school and he would always respond with-

"I know." This made him smile and she smiled back.

(5 days later)

"Careful," Ricardo said as Drake got out of the wheelchair.

"I got it."

He had been in ICU for two more days. In that time, they'd removed the feeding tube and had put him on a liquid diet. After a bit more intensive monitoring, Drake was moved to the regular ward, where he started physical therapy. Today was the day he finally got to go home.

"Careful!" the man said again as he crowded his friend. He was prepared to catch him if he fell.

Drake winced as he sat down in the passenger seat of the car. "I'm good."

"Need help with the seat belt?"

"I got it." He winced again as he slowly moved his arm back.

Ricardo watched him struggle to reach the belt for a moment before passing it to him, then he closed the door for him and thanked Belinda, who had rolled Drake out. As he got into the car, she moved closer to the open window.

"You remember to take it easy and do those breathing exercises I showed you, okay?"

He nodded.

"And I better not see you back here for the same reason again!" she said with a strict voice, then she smiled and waved.

Ricardo cranked the vehicle, then looked at him with a smirk. "You ready to go home?"

"Yeah."

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Drake cautiously leaned forwards in his seat and turned on the radio. He scrolled through the stations and the second he found one and sat back, Ricardo pressed a button and turned it to one of his saved stations.

"It's cute that you think I'm gonna let you pick the music."

"I almost died."

"And when you finally do die, which will be a long, long, long time from now, you can come back and haunt my car and control the station whenever you like."

"Dick."

"Where?!" He exasperatedly pretending to search the sidewalks they passed.

Drake blinked a couple times. "Was that a fucking gay joke?"

"Funny, wasn't it? Dee taught me that one."

The boy laughed, then winced.

Ricardo wore a concerned expression. "You sure you feel up to stopping by that guy's house today?"

"Yeah. I miss my fucking cats."

"When we get off the highway, put the address in your GPS. I think I know where it is, but I just wanna be sure."

There was no traffic, so they made their way to Josh's house and arrived within twenty minutes. Drake got out of the car and went up the walkway leading to his front door. He knocked, but didn't have to wait long because Josh was expecting him.

"Hey," he said awkwardly when Josh opened the door.

"I was wondering when I'd hear from you again."

"Sorry."

"Come on in."

He followed the man inside.

"I wanted to clear things up about that night," Josh said. "You ran off so fast that I didn't get the chance to explain."

"Explain?"

"Yeah. My boyfriend's totally cool with it. He does it, too."

"Um...I'm sorry. I was... I don't...really...remember much...about that night."

"You don't remember having sex?"

He figured he had after learning that he'd came here that night, but having it confirmed still made him disappointed. He awkwardly shook his head.

Josh wasn't incredibly upset about this because it just meant that Drake didn't remember him cumming after only five pumps. "While we were fucking, you saw this picture of me and my boyfriend on the wall and freaked out. I thought Gemini would've mentioned him. See, we both love each other, but neither of us believe in tying ourselves down to one guy sexually. If I have a guy over, Caleb will go hang at a club or somewhere until I text him to let him know the guy's left and vice versa. We have a very open relationship."

"Oh," was all Drake could say.

"So if you ever wanna come by, you have my number now. All you have to do is call," Josh said. "And if you're into threesomes, we can make that happen."

He didn't know what to say. He just came for his cats and got hit with all this and he wasn't prepared. "Okay," he said shyly.

The man smiled, then started walking again. "Your cats are in here." He led the boy over to the bathroom and opened the door.

"Meow," went one kitten.

"Hey, Macaulay!" His voice went up an octave or two.

Luckily, she used her sharp claws to climb up the leg of his pajama pants and his other cat was already on the counter, so he didn't have to bend down and pick them up.

"Agent Jack Bauer, I've missed you!" He rubbed his fingers through the animal's fur and heard it purr at his touch.

"I'm sorry. Did you just say Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer?"

"I don't like boring cat names."

"Apparently, they don't either. I just called them both Kitty and they ignored me until I had food."

This reminded him. "Oh, yeah. Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash.

"Oh, no, it's okay-"

"Take it." It was thirty five dollars that Ricardo had given him to give to Josh.

"You don't have to pay me anything."

"You've been feeding and taking care of two cats for two weeks, so just take the money. It'll cover what you spent on food and litter and toys." He noticed two tiny, brightly-colored toy mice on the floor. "You could've called the shelter, but you kept them even when you didn't hear from me for days. I'm so grateful that you would do all this for me and I just want to give you something to show you how much I appreciate everything."

Josh still wasn't making any moves to take the cash, so he left it on the bathroom counter and picked up his kittens.

"Did I...leave a book bag here by chance?"

"Yeah, it's on the coat rack."

Drake saw him finally pick up the money before he led him to the rack behind the door and grabbed his bag for him. The young man put his kittens inside and left a hole for them to breath out of, then he carefully put on one strap.

"You alright?" Josh asked when he noticed him winced.

"Yeah. Just a little banged up."

Somehow, the man just now noticed the white bracelet around his wrist. "You were in the hospital?"

"Yeah, but everything's all good now."

"What happened?"

"I just had an accident."

"Drinking and driving?"

"No, nothing like that. It doesn't really matter now, but, uh-" He took a step towards the door, then turned back to him. "-again, I super appreciate this. I can give you more money if that's not enough."

"No, this is fine. Thank you."

Drake offered a small smile, then he let himself out and went back to the car. Once inside, he unzipped his bag all the way so that he could play with his kittens.

"How'd it go?"

The boy shrugged casually. "It was weird."

"Did he accept the money?"

"I just left it on the counter."

"Anything else you need to do while we're out?"

"Nope. I'm just ready to go home."

Ricardo smiled and put the car in reverse. "Home it is."

"Here we are." Ricardo turned and pulled the car up behind his brother's.

Drake breathed out a sigh of relief. "God, it's been so long since I've been here, I feel like."

"It's good to have you back." The man offered a warm smile.

Drake unbuckled his belt and opened the door. His friend hurried around to his side to help him, but he refused his aid.

"I got it." He clenched his teeth as he got out.

"You good?"

"Yeah." He clutched his ribs as he slowly started walking up the driveway. "Mrs. Hayfer's here?" he noticed.

"Yeah, just act surprised, though." Ricardo opened the door for him and the boy followed him inside.

"SURPRISE!"

Drake turned towards the entrance to the kitchen and was met by five giant smiles, which belonged to Julio, Mrs. Hayfer, Samantha, Brett and Gemini. There was a large banner that said 'Welcome Home, Drake!' hanging up. Brett and Gem had probably worked on this because they were the most artistically inclined. There was also cake. One was a rice krispy cake, which was his favorite. It looked homemade, so Samantha was probably in charge of this. The other was a store-bought New York style cheesecake, another favorite.

"Wow," he said lamely. He didn't even have to act surprised; he was surprised. "This is really nice. Thank you."

Samantha approached him first and carefully wrapped his arms around his neck. Her and her boyfriend had visited him in the hospital when he had been moved out of ICU. Gemini had been the last to know just because he had always gotten along really well with Clementine and Drake hadn't wanted her to find out where he was and why. After he hugged him and kissed Drake's cheek, Brett pulled him into a gentle embrace and told him how glad he was that Drake was okay. He led the boy over to one of the stools and sat down next to him.

"Ricardo, where are the knives?" Alice asked, and Ricardo went over to a drawer and passed her one for the rice krispy cake since the cheesecake came pre-sliced.

Julio grabbed the roll of napkins and tore off a couple pieces and set them next to his former teacher so that she could put some cake on each one. "Drake, you want one of each?" When the boy nodded, he went on to the next person. "Samantha?"

As they all hung around the kitchen conversing and eating, Drake was reminded that there were plenty of people who cared about him. Somehow, being with Dahlia had made him forget, but right now, he felt just how much he was loved.

Author's Note: I think this is the longest chapter I've written. My goodness. It took forever to edit. I had to research a lot of the hospital procedures and stuff and I tried to make it as accurate as possible, but I've never experienced any of this, so I don't know. I wanna thank the guest that reviewed the last chapter. Your comments were so sweet and yes, I love to destroy Drake. Ha ha. I was surprised that you said it was your favorite chapter so far because I wasn't incredibly satisfied with it, so that's very encouraging to hear.

Anyway, please review. I've worked so hard on my writing and I keep trying to push through my writer's block and I did hours of research just for this chapter alone. Also, Mrs. Hayfer. What are your thoughts? I love her now. Finally, the subtle hints of Julio's growing alcoholism that showed up in early chapters is starting to really show. That'll come to a boiling point in the next few chapters. Plus, I'm introducing a new character in the next chapter that I think is super likable.

One more thing: does anyone actually read these author's notes? I was thinking about giving small hints about things to look forward to like a "Coming up on Sorry, Charlie..." type of thing. Is that something anyone would want, or do you prefer heading into each chapter completely blind? Lemme know. Okay, that's it. CCC ya!