Sorry, Charlie

by CHOOSELIFE

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

12. Liar

Drake had thought that, after Clementine, he'd never be able to sleep with anyone ever again. Okay, that was a bit of a stretch, but he'd thought that it would be a while at least. It had only been a week since he'd left the hospital, but already, he had found someone else. Well...kind of. He wasn't ready to jump back into a serious relationship, but this wasn't exactly just a casual friends-with-benefits thing either.

Who is the lucky lady, you might be asking? Hero. It was Hero from the mental hospital. Sure, she was exactly twice his age, but he still liked her a lot and apparently the feelings were mutual. Besides Theo, she was the only other person he'd planned to talk to outside of the hospital — not because he didn't like the others. They just didn't create that strong of a bond. It wasn't a place to make friends anyway, but Hero... Hero had been too gorgeous to pass up. Drake had never minded sleeping with older women. He went with Molly for several months. Sometimes, he still missed her, but he'd learned his lesson about having romantic affairs with married women. Hero was single. In fact, she had admitted to only ever being in one relationship her entire life. Her husband had died in a tragic work accident. She didn't go into detail about it, but Drake didn't mind letting her talk about him and he wasn't bothered by the picture of him that she still had on the nightstand. He'd told her about Meelah and their losses had only made them closer.

Both were completely naked before they even made it to the bedroom. She had him pressed up against the wall in the hallway of her house as she stimulated him with her hand and shoved her tongue down his throat. She was very dominant, but not like Molly or Dahlia. She didn't ask if she could handcuff him or blindfold him or hit him or peg him with a strap-on dildo. She just liked plain old sex and this was a refreshing change for Drake. The young man was soon on his knees and he allowed Hero to lift one leg and rest it over his shoulder. He kissed the inside of her thigh and at the same time, he looked up at her. Her eyes were filled with lust. He planted another soft kiss, but closer to her privates this time. He did this twice more as she petted his hair, then his mouth reached its destination and she sighed with pleasure.

---

Drake panted for air as Hero rolled off of him and plopped her head down onto the pillow next to him with a huff. They were both coated in sweat as they caught their breath. Hero scooted closer and rested her head on the boy's chest, so he wrapped his arm around her. She could hear the rapid beating of his heart and the sound provided her with comfort. She placed her hand on his chest and after a moment, she started running her fingertips up and down his skin until she got to the scar from being stabbed. She gently traced the line on the left side of his bellybutton and tried to imagine what it felt like to have a knife sticking halfway into her stomach. Drake had told her about what had happened during a previous pillow-talking session and it was hard for her to understand why anyone would want to hurt him. He was so kind and sensitive and funny and he listened to her. He really listened, even when she told him about her father. He wasn't abusive by any means; he was just extremely strict. He always pushed her to do better — to be better. He'd pushed and pushed and pushed until eventually, he'd pushed her away. When she'd told him this, she'd felt silly. Her story couldn't even come close to what his dad had done to him, but Drake had listened and he'd sympathized. "I'm glad he fucked you up," he'd said, "because otherwise, we wouldn't have met." She'd laughed hard at this. He always seemed to know the right thing to say.

Hero lifted her chin and kissed his jawline. "You want me to make you some dinner and we can rent a movie on the tv?"

Drake wasn't used to having his significant other cook for him; Dahlia'd never done that. "Let's shower first and I'll help with dinner."

Hero planted a few more soft kisses in the crook of his neck, then she sat up. She looked around the floor, then remembered that they'd gotten naked before making it to the bedroom. "I don't even know where the hell I left my clothes."

This made Drake smile. The two made their way into the master bathroom and took a shower together. Afterwards, he brushed his teeth with an extra toothbrush she had, then he helped her find all of the clothes they had ripped off of one another earlier.

"I'm gonna put these in to wash and put on some clothes," she said. "I have one of your outfits here from the other day that I cleaned. I'll grab it for you."

When she was gone, he went over to the refrigerator to see what they were working with. He wasn't there for long before the doorbell rang.

"Do you mind getting that? It's probably this package I ordered. Just sign for me if it is," Hero called from the laundry room as she slipped on her panties.

Drake was still in his towel as he crossed the kitchen and reached for the knob. When he opened the door, his heart fell into his stomach.

"What the fuck's this then?!" came that familiar angry English accent.

Drake's tone matched hers, but his voice was much quieter. "What the fuck are you doing here, Clem?!"

"So you're shagging someone else now?!"

The young man nudged her outside and he followed, then shut the door behind him. "What the fuck?!" he repeated.

"We haven't even been broken up for two months and you're already in some sket's bed?!"

"Why are you here?!" he demanded.

"I can't believe you would just up and move on like I never meant anything to you!"

He was confused, but he refused to show anything but anger. "You told me to fuck off, so I went and fucked off! What the fuck are you doing here?! How did you find me?!"

"Well, I thought you'd come back round the yard, but it looks like you've been out on the pull."

Drake wasn't going to let her convince him that what had happened had been his fault. Not this time. Not anymore. "You told me to kill myself. You told me not to come back."

"We say rubbish like that to each other all the time, babe. It doesn't mean that you should go out and shag the first slapper you see."

"No, you say shit like that all the time. I have never spoken to you like that. Ever."

"You know I don't really mean it-"

"You don't mean it? Clem, you pretended to be Ricky and you sent me horrible texts multiple times a day telling me how much of a piece of shit I am," he said, "and I fucking believed you. I believed everything you said. I trusted you and you manipulated my emotions so I'd be your fucking puppet."

"That's not what I did-"

"Will you, please, just go?" He couldn't make eye contact with her anymore. He was about to break. Don't you dare fucking cry right now.

"You really think I tried to harm you?"

"You told me to kill myself. I fucking od'ed and spent a week and a half in the ICU fighting for my life because you made me think everyone hated me."

Dahlia smiled a little and her voice sounded as if she were speaking to a child. "Aw, you tried to kill yourself over losing me?"

He'd been out here for a while and he was starting to worry that Hero would join him. "Please, just go," he begged.

"Why? You're worried about some slag finding you starkers with your fiancée?"

"Ex fiancée."

She clenched her teeth at this and glared at him. Like usual, he crumpled under the pressure and hung his head. She liked when he portrayed himself as weak, so he knew that he would have to do this before she granted him any wishes.

"Please, I am begging you to go," he whispered desperately.

"You know you're never gonna be happy with anyone else, right? I'm the only one who knows the real you. I'm the only one who accepts the real you. No one else could ever love you if they knew who you really are. You know that, right?"

"I know," he said solemnly. He did know. He wasn't completely cured from her brainwashing.

Dahlia saw his sincerity and it satisfied her. She leaned in to give him one last peck on the lips, but he jerked his head to the side and avoided her gaze. Enraged, she whipped around and stomped down the driveway. Although this appeared to be a win for Drake, he felt defeated. He closed his eyes and took a few steady breaths as they watered over. Clementine always had a way of making him feel like an unworthy loser. It's like, no matter what, he could never escape her grasp. She had control over him — even still — and he hated to admit it. What bothered him the most, however, was that feeling that had surged through him the second he had laid eyes on her. He'd been happy to see her. After everything she had put him through, his heart still pounded against his chest at the sight of her. He still felt weak at the knees when he heard her voice. He still desperately sought for her approval and wanted to please her. He still fucking loved her.

Drake took in one last calming breath through his nostrils and could smell the scent of her strawberry lotion still lingering just like those unwanted feelings he still had for her. He turned around and went back inside just as Hero entered the kitchen.

"No package?" she asked.

"No. Just, um..." He shook his head and waved his arm as if to say it wasn't important. "Just someone trying to get you to switch cable companies."

The woman groaned. "They always come here. I keep telling them no. I don't know why they insist on bothering me all the time."

He smiled. "They're just looking for an excuse to see you because you're so damn hot."

She laughed at this and allowed him to take her in his arms. She closed her eyes as he gave her a soft peck on the lips, then he pulled her against his body and squeezed her tight as he planted more kisses on her shoulder. Despite her age, her skin was fucking flawless and she was wrinkle-free.

"What do you wanna eat?" she asked.

"I have a few ideas," he said mischievously.

She pushed him away playfully and laughed. "You never quit, do you?" Hero passed him his clothes and went over to the refrigerator while the boy changed right where he was. "We can make pasta or hamburgers or...hmm..."

Drake grabbed his belt off of the counter — he'd found earlier in the floor of the hallway — then he started putting it through the loops of his jeans.

"You like baked lemon pepper chicken?"

"Yeah, that's fine," he said as he buckled his belt.

"Let's do that with some veggies. I already had it in the fridge to defrost."

"Okay." He picked up his towel and took it to the laundry room. When he came back, Hero was pulling some chicken out of the refrigerator.

"You wanna make the vegetables? There's zucchini and squash in there."

Drake got them out of the refrigerator, then carried them over to the island. Hero was next to him. She passed him a cutting board as she went to work on the chicken. The young man started chopping up the vegetables and the two talked. They talked about anything and everything and the conversation never ran dry. After the food was prepared, they sat down in the living room and rented a movie: Jordan Peele's Us. Drake worshiped him after his 2016 horror debut Get Out and Hero became a fan during the run of Key & Peele. This was another thing the two had in common. Despite their age difference, they had a lot of similar interests.

---

"Look who finally rolls in," Julio said from the living room as Drake headed upstairs.

"Dinner's on the stove," said Ricardo.

Drake turned and joined them in the living room. "I already ate. Sorry, I should've called."

"Dinner with your mystery girl again?"

"Why the fuck are you being so secretive about it anyway?" asked Julio. "This is like déjà vu all over again. I mean, it's gotta be a guy, right? That's why you're not saying?"

He'd never confirmed that he was dating anyone really, but they knew there had to be someone because he was gone a lot. He wasn't sure whether or not they would approve of whom he was dating and where he had met her, but it wasn't serious anyway. He and Hero were just having fun. It was just sex and conversation. He wasn't fucking anyone else, but if she was, he didn't have an issue with it. Technically, she wasn't even his girlfriend and the Santos brothers didn't need to know every woman he stuck his dick into.

"That's exactly what it is," Drake said.

Julio couldn't tell if he was fucking with him or not.

"What have you two been up to?"

"I just got off work not too long ago," the oldest said.

"I've been hanging around the house playing video games and I made dinner."

"Oh, good thing I ate elsewhere then," Drake teased.

"Fuck you." Since he was sitting next to him and his feet were on the couch, he kicked the boy's leg in a manner that was both playful and rough.

"Ow!" But he was laughing.

"Hey, don't you have your first Rent rehearsal coming up in two days?" reminded Ricardo.

The young man stopped smiling. He shrugged.

"I don't know why you're so worried," Julio said. "You're gonna do fine. You've been on stage plenty of times. You're a natural. The only difference is that you'll be acting, but like — and I don't mean this is a bad way — but you've acted your whole life. You're really good at playing a role. Plus, you've got real-life experience with your part. You know exactly what it's like to be homeless and addicted. You're gonna do so great."

"Unless it's gonna trigger you. We'd both love for you to get back on stage again, but this could be the wrong play. If you know it's gonna go poorly and you wanna drop out, that's okay, too."

"Thanks."

He appreciated their support and although there were several reasons he didn't want to do the play, there were also several reasons that he did. First, it's fucking Rent. He's been obsessed with this musical forever. Second, it was a good way to get back on stage without the old crowd cheering for his demise. Third, maybe the time around Dee could help him mend things so that he and Ricky could work things out. Fourth, he could definitely use the distraction. Maybe staying so busy will make it easier to keep himself from relapsing or falling back into his depression hole.

"I'll give it a shot and I'll be sure to let you know if I can't handle it before everything collapses and turns into a big thing."

Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer ran down the steps and one jumped on top of the other and bit down playfully, but once they heard Drake's voice, both bolted into the living room. Agent Jack Bauer rubbed his furry body against her owner's pant leg while Macaulay jumped up onto the couch. She nudged Drake's arm to let him know that she wanted to be petted, but once he lifted his hand to do so, the kitten immediately turned and followed the scent of chicken-favored rice over to Julio.

"Bro!"

"Sorry." He picked up his pets and stood. "I'm gonna feed them."

"I fed them already," Julio said. "They were under my feet and wouldn't stop meowing when I was cooking."

"Did they eat?"

"They ate. They're just greedy as fuck."

Drake left the living room and carried his cats upstairs, struggling slightly because Agent Jack Bauer wanted to play. He made it to his bedroom and closed the door behind them, then set them down. Drake made his way over to his desk and sat down under his folded leg. He flipped on the lamp, which was the only thing that lit his room. He needed to change the bulb in the light on the ceiling, but he was too lazy and had been putting it off for days. He picked up the book he was currently reading, which was titled Divergent. He hadn't made it to the library yet since leaving the hospital because he kept spending so much time with Hero, but this book came highly recommended by Mrs. Hayfer and she let him borrow it. He appreciated all of the suggestions and had liked them all so far, but after finishing up this series, he wanted to pick a book for himself.

It took him longer than normal to get through the chapter he was on because his mind was all over the place. He kept getting distracted and ended up reading the same paragraph over and over and over again because he wasn't comprehending it. He couldn't stop thinking about seeing Clementine again, but even more, why hadn't he told Ricardo and Julio? He didn't have to tell them every little thing that went on during his day, but this felt important. This was dangerous. This could lead to a mental breakdown or a relapse or both. This was something they needed to know about. Perhaps he kept it secret because, subconsciously, he hoped that he got to see her again. He hoped that they could be together again. Maybe they had both learned from their mistakes and could make things work. If this happened, the Santos brothers would be so pissed, but should he let them dictate his life? Well, they had practically saved it countless times. He owed them everything. He owed them this. He needed to learn how to stop being so impulsive and chaotic and reckless. They didn't deserve that. Not after what he'd put them through. Not after they had watched paramedics trying to shock his heart and bring him back to life on the floor of the truck stop bathroom. The best way to apologize to them was to behave. He owed them that much.

After pushing himself to finish the chapter he was working on, he sighed and closed the book. There was no way he could concentrate on anything more until he cleared his conscience. His friends were probably done eating now, so he let his kittens run past his feet and race him downstairs when he opened the door. He found the brothers in the kitchen this time instead of the living room. Ricardo was washing dishes at the sink and Drake entered just in time to hear him nag Julio about putting them into the dishwasher after he rinsed them. The youngest of the three clicked to turn off his phone and set it down, then he went over to help his brother.

"So," Drake started suddenly, announcing his arrival, "I probably should've said this earlier, but while I was out, I ran into Clem." He tried to say this casually, but he was clearly nervous and with good reason, for both boys immediately froze.

Julio turned and looked at him. "You ran into her? Like accidentally?"

"Yeah." Sometimes he felt like they were his parents and he was about to be grounded or have his allowance taken away or something.

"Are you sure it was accidentally?" Ricardo asked him. He seemed more calm about this than his brother, but that was only on the outside.

"Yes," Drake answered quietly. "Well, I mean, it was for me. I think...maybe she was following me."

"She's stalking you?" Julio said.

"I didn't say that." Why was he still trying to rationalize her crazy? "She probably just saw me at the store coincidentally."

"And followed you," Julio said. Why wasn't Drake seeing how serious this was?

Ricardo could tell that his brother's line of questioning was hurting the young man's feelings. "Did she approach you when you were at the store?"

"Not really."

"Not really?" Julio repeated.

"I went to a friend's house and she showed up at her door," he admitted.

"A friend or, like, a friend?" the oldest asked.

"A woman."

"So she followed you to a girl's house and came to the door to stop you before you did something with someone who wasn't her?" Julio asked.

"Well, not exactly. We had sex and we showered and then she came to the door." This interrogation was making him feel stupid and uncomfortable. Why has he even brought this up?

"Like she was waiting outside to see how long you would be in there and then she decided it was too long?" said Ricardo.

"Or like she was watching you two do it through the window so she'd know when you were done and could catch you off guard?" Julio added before his friend could answer.

Drake shrugged.

"Did she say anything about you to the girl you were with, like trying to make you look bad?" Ricky asked.

"She was changing, so I answered the door alone and made Clem go away."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing really."

"What did she say?" he asked again.

"She just said...the usual. That I suck and that I'm making a big mistake by not being with her."

"Arrogant bitch," Julio mumbled.

Ricardo stuck to asking the important questions. "Do you feel like you're making a mistake?"

He didn't answer right away.

"Drake, what the fuck?" Julio said.

"Look, let's just discuss this calmly and without judgement, alright?" The oldest waved for his troubled friend to take a seat on one of the bar stools and Julio joined him.

"I'm not trying to be a dick, but seriously?" Julio said. "She treated you like shit. Look at everything you went through because of her."

"I know. You don't have to worry. I'm not gonna get back with her." Drake decided that this was the best thing to do after seeing their reactions. "I don't want to make either of you obsess over the possibility of me doing something stupid or hurting myself again, so I'll stay away from her."

"We don't want you to stay away from her just for our sake, Drake," Ricardo said kindly. "We want you to see why you deserve better than her."

"I know. I know you're right. I just...I fell so hard for her. I've spent the last year with her. I did everything she asked and I sacrificed everything to please her. I just wish it would've been enough. I wish I would've been enough." His eyes were getting wet. "You're right, though. I guess...after what happened to my dad, I just thought I could...replace him." We accept the love we think we deserve. That was a quote from The Perks Of Being A Wallflower, which Mrs. Hayfer had read to him in the hospital. Drake felt ashamed and embarrassed about being the way that he was. He shrugged because he had no explanation for why he had gotten rid of one abusive relationship just to substitute it with another. He hung his head.

Ricardo didn't say anything. He went around to the other side of the island and wrapped his arms around the boy. This gesture reminded him that he wasn't unworthy like his father and Dahlia had convinced him. He was allowed to be happy, too. The people around him forgave him for all of his bullshit. He was the only one holding himself back. He needed to learn to forgive himself, too.

"I don't think the medicine's working," he said into his friend's chest. "I keep trying to distract myself. I guess that's why I'm gone all day. Sometimes, it just doesn't help, though."

"You know it's gonna take time. They said it could be a month or so before it kicks in."

"I'm not trying to be so negative and whiny all the time."

"I'd rather you be negative and whiny than be out on the streets because you let your feelings bottle up until they caused you to relapse." Ricardo rubbed his back and offered him a smile when he pulled away.

"Thanks."

"You wanna go for a walk?" Julio asked.

Drake let go of his breath, then sniffled. "Sure."

"He's just trying to get out of helping with the dishes," Ricardo said with a smirk.

"Bruh, I cooked!"

"For the first time in how many days?"

"This was my relax day."

"You're literally just putting plates in a dishwasher. I'm doing all the hard stuff."

"Oh my fucking God," he grumbled, then he stomped around the island and grumpily started loading the dishwasher.

Drake couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself. Despite all of his complaining and protesting and griping, it only took him about five minutes to finish.

"See, that wasn't so bad," his brother said. "All that bitching for nothing."

"God, you're so annoying!" He stalked upstairs to change into pajamas like Drake, then he came back down stairs and slipped on his tennis shoes as if he had forgotten all about being angry with Ricardo. "Ready?"

Drake stood and put on his shoes.

"Have fun," the older one said. "Don't talk to strangers."

Julio rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him. Drake picked up his cigarettes and lighter off the banister, then lit one and followed his friend down the driveway.

"Can I get one of those?"

Drake tossed him the pack and caught up to him as he slowed down to pull one out and light it. "You okay?"

The young man exhaled a breath of smoke. "Just wanted to get out of the house."

It was getting dark out, which was fine because both enjoyed the nighttime. When they were a good ways down the road, Julio pulled out a flask. Drake watched with discomfort as he swallowed some, then his friend held it out to him. He wanted so badly to say no. He didn't want to be an enabler, but he couldn't say no to alcohol or any other mind-altering substance, so he took the flask.

"Hey, so-" Julio stopped so suddenly and turned towards him that Drake almost ran into him. "-about what I said when I kinda blew up on you back at the hospital-"

"You don't have to-"

"No, I know, but I want to. I feel like, well...you know I meant what I said, but I'm just... I didn't mean for it to come out that way...like, that harshly."

Drake couldn't believe that he was just now realizing that Julio was drunk and had been for some time now. "It's okay."

Even intoxicated, Julio could feel just how awkward this conversation was. "I feel like I just made it worse." Why bring it up if I'm not even sorry about it?

"No, I get it. It was something I needed to hear. I've been a shitty friend."

"But you haven't," he argued. "I was just jealous of the relationship you have with my brother."

"I've been trying to back off and give you two alone time." And he had, which is part of the reason he stayed at Hero's so much.

"I've noticed and I really appreciate that, but...I just think...you shouldn't have to..." Although he had been spending a lot more time with Ricardo and he got what he wanted, he still felt guilty for taking him from Drake.

"It's really okay," he said. "I know that I can always come to either one of you if I really need to, but I've gotta learn how to figure out my own shit first before running to someone else to fix my problems.

This entire conversation felt strange. Julio kept rambling on and it was like he was sorry for not being sorry. This didn't hurt Drake's feelings. Everything Julio had said that day was the truth and he was genuinely trying to work on those things.

"Can we talk about..." Drake started, but he trailed off. After he'd said it, he immediately knew that it was a mistake.

"About what?" his friend asked.

"Never mind."

"No, what?"

"We'll talk about it later. It's just gonna piss you off."

Julio stopped and looked at him. "Tell me."

Drake sighed, then looked around the dark, empty street. There was something about Julio that...scared him. He wasn't the same person and that made Drake nervous. He didn't want to compare him to his father — no one was anywhere near as horrible as Martin — but there were definitely some similarities. For starters, he wouldn't have been scared to be alone with the old Julio.

"I just..." He swallowed and felt his heart racing. He knew that his friend wouldn't hurt him, but he couldn't overcome the post traumatic stress caused by his past. "I'm worried about you, man."

"Worried about me?" He seemed genuinely confused.

"Just because..." He spoke quietly. "...you've been drinking a lot..."

"Yeah, so?" the drunk young man challenged.

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked down at the asphalt. "I just..." He shrugged. "Never mind. What the fuck do I know?"

"Exactly. What the fuck do you know?" He was already angry.

"I just don't want you to get hurt-"

"You don't want me to get hurt? It's a little too late for that, isn't it?" he said accusingly. "Huh?"

"I'm just... Alcohol can turn people into monsters."

"And drugs turn people into pathetic dope fiends, but that doesn't stop you, does it?"

How he wished he could go back in time and stop this conversation before it had started. He flinched when Julio yelled at him.

"Does it?!"

"I'm clean now," he stuttered dumbly.

"So that gives you the right to judge me?" He stepped closer and Drake could smell the alcohol on his breath. "So I'm just not allowed to take the edge off? You run away and get high and end up as a homeless prostitute, but when I want have one little drink before bed, you have to ruin it? Stop projecting your weakness onto me!"

This time, his words hurt. For a moment, he felt himself conceding, but this was someone he cared about and he couldn't just sit idly by while he fucked up his life. "Do you hear yourself right now? This isn't you. Don't you see how much the alcohol is changing you?"

"Well, maybe I wouldn't need it so much if you didn't make it impossible to be sober just to stand being around you."

Drake could feel heat behind his eyes.

Julio chuckled bitterly. "You know what? I don't need to hear this. Not from you. You're just a stupid fucking junkie." He stalked past the boy, knocking him to the side with his shoulder, and started home.

The young man sighed. "Julio-"

"Fuck. You."

---

Ricardo Santos: whats going on? everything alright?

Drake let go of his breath as he sadly looked down at his phone, then his eyes moved over to his right. He was in a stall in the Ingles bathroom and on top of the toilet paper dispenser was a cluster of tiny, red pills, the two boxes they had come from stacked one on top of the other nearby. Walmart — those fuckers — no longer sold Triple C's — not the cheap brand anyway — and Drake didn't have twenty bucks to spend on three boxes of his favorite pills. Therefore, he'd walked across the street to Ingles. He remembered that they had their boxes behind lock and key, but he'd been desperate enough to ask a worker for a couple. The pharmacist informed him that they had moved them to the shelf with the other cough and cold medicines, which Drake was grateful for because it would save him the embarrassment. His luck got even better when he'd found what he'd been looking for and had seen that Ingles now sold those tiny, red pills in packs of twenty-four instead of just sixteen. He'd only had to get two boxes as opposed to three and hadn't looked like such a loser checking out. Everything was coming together. It was like the universe wanted him to get high. Never has anything ever aligned so perfectly for him.

So here he was in the fucking bathroom trying to talk himself out of using. If he got back on Triple C's, he could do things the right way this time. He wouldn't run away or let any strangers fuck him or stick their dicks in his mouth. He would simply go back home and try his hardest to keep this all a secret. He could do it. He'd done it for over two years when he'd first started and even if he did get caught, he had the assurance that Ricky wouldn't kick him out. Honestly, this was best for everyone. That's what he told himself anyway. Being back with Charlie would numb him to all of the bullshit he had been going through. He'd feel so much happier with Charlie and Julio would like him better. Even Ricardo deserved a break from his overbearing traumas.

Drake Parker: yea im ok julio gotpissdd ,,took a walk alone bcz rhinestone calls omw now

He sighed again, then he put his phone away and scooped some of the pills into his hand. Drake picked up the Diet Pepsi he had bought, then he just stood there holding the two things. He could already taste them. He already felt those sugar-coated pills clattering down his esophagus, rubbing against its walls and leaving that awful red sugar coating in his throat so that he would keep burping and salivating and tasting them on his tongue until he vomited. His entire body cringed, starting at his toes and it traveled all the way up. He belched at the thought of them and had to swallow down the puke that was already coming up despite having not yet swallowed the little fuckers. His cheeks were red and hot and his teeth chattered with fear and nervousness and pure excitement. He was going to do this right this time. He was going to make this right. Drake opened his mouth and tossed the pills as far back as he could to avoid them touching his taste-buds, then he immediately chased them down with his soda.

---

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love
Seasons of love
Seasons of love

A woman waved her hand shortly in a dismissive way. She had straight blonde hair that reached her shoulders and she wore glasses and a nice black suit. Earlier, she had introduced herself as Allie. "Alright, great work everyone. We're gonna break for lunch. Be back here in one hour."

The line of singers split apart into groups and started chatting, but Drake went off alone over to a wall and squatted down in front of his backpack. He unzipped it and pulled out a bottle of water. "Seasons Of Love" was the first song they had started working on together. The morning had mostly been spent with introductions and quick (and dumb) team-building activities. Drake hated team-building. There was too much touching.

As he put his bottle back into his bag, his eyes landed on the brown plastic grocery sack that was tucked away in the bottom. Inside were two boxes of cough medicine. Just looking at them made him salivate. If he took some — just half a box or so, which wouldn't really get him high — this would all be easier. He was overwhelmed by all of these new, bubbly, outgoing strangers and he still hadn't spoken to Dee yet. In fact, Dee refused to even make eye contact with him, which was awkward because they had both been a part of the same group for the team-building exercises. Maybe he could just take some of the pills — just enough to numb him up a bit so that he could break the ice. He thought back on the rules he had made for himself just two days ago. 1). No more than forty-eight pills at a time. 2). Don't get high first thing in the morning. 3). Only buy enough boxes for one day's use. 4). Only get high once a day. 5). Stay the fuck away from Coach Tad. 6). Stay away from the truck stop. 7). Don't use in public. 8). Do not get caught. He had been struggling with a lot of these stipulations, but right now, the hardest one to obey was number seven. If he took some right now, he knew that after the few pills kicked in a numbed him without getting him high, he'd go back for more and end up taking all forty-eight pills. He would be too fucked up to not make it obvious and that would just be embarrassing in front of all these strangers, not to mention Dee, and surely, it'd get back to Ricardo and he would be screwed.

"Hey," came a soft, but unabashed voice from behind him.

Drake quickly closed his bag and turned. He had to look up because he was still squatting. She had tan skin and pretty brown hair with large brown eyes. She smiled sweetly, which showed off her defined dimples.

"My name's Kristy. You're Drake, right?" The cute way she squinted at him when she asked this aroused him.

"Yeah."

"Me and some of the others are gonna go to Subway together. Would you like to come?"

"Um..." He looked down at his bag, then back up at her again. His shyness and anxiety about being around so many new people at once were just an excuse he gave himself to rationalize getting high. Now a new door has opened and he had the chance to get over this nerve-wracking situation sober. Was he going to do it? "Yeah, okay."

"Great." Her smile was so distracting. "I got one more seat if you wanna ride with me."

Drake stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Okay."

---

When he entered the Subway restaurant, the other half of their group was already there. Most were already sitting with their sandwiches, but a couple were still at the counter having theirs made. Among those at the table, he saw Dee. He inwardly cursed. He'd wanted to talk to him — eventually — but alone.

It wasn't until it was Drake's turn to order that he realized he wasn't even hungry. His stomach was empty and hallow, but it felt full like, after swallowing ninety-six pills over the past two days, he had no room left in his stomach. Plus, the fact that he hadn't been eating only made his stomach grow smaller. Drake skipped on the sandwich and instead ordered a sprite, then he sat in the empty seat next to Kristy. Dee was across from him, but three seats away.

"So should we maybe go around the table and have everyone talk a little about themselves?" a girl named Hollie suggested when everyone was in a seat. "Get to know each other better?"

"That sounds like a great idea." Her name was Salajah, but she had earlier told them that she just preferred to be call Sal. She played one of the leads: Mimi Marquez. Mimi was a nineteen-year-old exotic dancer and an HIV+ junkie. She's with Roger, a clean and sober, HIV+ musician, for a good portion of the play.

If she was playing Mimi, Drake now didn't mind so much if the guy playing Roger bailed out and he had to fill in. He wouldn't mind having scenes with her. Plus, they share an onstage kiss. He realized now that he kept thinking about having sex with a lot of different women. It was like, when he was with Dahlia, he had only had eyes for her. He never really even thought about any other girls that way. Now he was a free man and he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

It wasn't until Dee took his turn and started talking about himself that Drake remembered he'd have to tell everyone who he was. He kept his head down to avoid meeting his best friend's ex's eyes. What do I say? I'm an addict? I'm an asshole? I'm a selfish, shitty friend? He didn't have many interests other than Charlie. Most of the others talked about colleges they were attending or had graduated from. Drake never even completed high school. They talked about their goals and aspirations and he had none. Suddenly, he regretted accepting this invite. He'd rather be nauseous as fuck and on his way to a high right now. He didn't belong here. He didn't fit in with these people. He wracked his brain for what he would say on his turn. He ended up mentioning hobbies like watching movies and reading and playing guitar. He talked much less than the rest and he was quieter. He kept his head down because he knew Dee was staring at him. Dee knew him. He knew he was lying. Sure, Drake enjoyed those things, but that's not who he was. Drake was a piece of shit. He was an easily-manipulated idiot who had ditched his best friends for some girl. He was a drunken bastard who had tried to seduce his best friend's boyfriend. He was the pathetic coward who had tried to kill himself and then soaked up all the pity. He was the leach who had clung back onto the friends he had betrayed and was being taken care of by them. That's who Drake Parker was.

---

Ricardo turned off the oven, then hungrily looked down at the lasagna he had just set on top of the stove.

"Is it actually done this time?" Julio groaned impatiently from a bar stool as he absently scrolled through Facebook.

Before Ricky could respond, he heard the front door open and saw Drake walk in. "There he is!" he said excitedly. "So? How was it?"

The young man didn't even stop. Instead, he went straight for the staircase and jogged up. "Great. They hate me."

The Santos brothers shared a confused glance.

Oh please don't get it twisted
Come on let's be realistic
'Cause I am not a role model
I'm just trying to get through my day
I take for granted the best that I've been handed
And not to make excuses
But what would help is more medicine

When Drake made it to his room, he dropped his backpack in the middle of the floor and plopped down onto the bed. He was fucking exhausted. They hadn't even done any of the choreography today, but being around so many people at once wore him out. Did Drake believe his fellow crew members hated him? Yes. Did his fellow crew members actually hate him? Absolutely not. As a matter of fact, three girls and a guy had made passes at him and many people had tried to engage him in conversation. But come on, it's Drake. Of course he's going to let his brain bring him down. Martin wasn't there to do it anymore, nor was Dahlia. He's all he had left.

They just made him feel so inferior is all. They all had dreams and plans and they were going somewhere. Drake wasn't looking forward to anything. Instead, he kept looking back to see his past chasing after him. He kept trying to outrun it. He just didn't want to end up as a homeless junkie prostitute. He didn't need to become anything special. He just wanted to be fucking normal.

Your momma does drugs (can't get enough)
Your daddy does drugs (can't get enough)
Everybody does drugs (can't get enough)
Everybody does drugs (can't get enough)

Your momma does drugs (can't get enough)
Your daddy does drugs (can't get enough)
Everybody does drugs (can't get enough)
Everybody does drugs (can't get enough)

His bedroom door was pushed open and Ricardo came inside. "What's up?" the man asked with concern.

"I'm just fucking exhausted," he said.

"It didn't go well?"

"It was fine. You know me. I just overthink everything."

Drake used to always have a habit of downplaying his feelings for the sake of not bothering others, but usually it was to anyone else but his roommates. Ricardo immediately picked up on what he was doing and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. You know I always act like this around new people. I'll get over it eventually."

Typically when Drake was feeling this bad, his friend would expect him to cry and open up to him, but the boy seemed shut off. "You've been acting different lately. Did something happen? Is there something going on?" He was onto him.

"No, I guess I've just been nervous about this whole thing, but I'm trying to work past all that."

"If playing this role is affecting you or making you anxious in any way, you know you can back out. Julio and I will support you either way."

This wasn't true. Julio hadn't spoken a word to him since their argument two nights ago. Ricardo didn't know this, though.

"I know. Thanks," Drake said. "I'll be okay. Really."

The man offered him a kind smile before he stood. "Dinner's ready."

"Um, I actually ate already. A few of us got together and had Subway for dinner." It had been lunch and he hadn't even eaten then, but if he ate now, he would surely throw up the pills he planned on taking.

"Okay. You wanna come watch this movie with us?"

"I think I'm just gonna listen to music," he said.

The second Ricardo left him, he got up and closed the door, then quietly locked it. He turned on his radio, but not because he cared to listen to it. He just needed to cover the sounds of him tearing open his boxes of Triple C's. He eagerly pulled the boxes out of his backpack and subconsciously let out a sigh of relief.

I can't get enough, too high to get up
I keep fucking up my life with rad drugs
I can't get enough, too high to get up
I keep fucking up my life with rad drugs

---

Drake breathed smoke deep into his lungs, then leaned his back against the brick wall. It was a little after four and Ricardo had just texted him saying he would be late picking him up because he got held up at work. He said he'd call Julio and insisted even though Drake protested. The young man half expected Julio to leave him standing here all night. He would've preferred that over the awkwardly silent car ride that they would no doubt have. Everything was so messed up, but Drake felt fine. He felt fine because Charlie was with him every step of the way. Since the wait was going to be so long, maybe he should head back inside and take the Triple C's. He wasn't sure he could hold out for much longer.

The door opened next to him and the sudden sound made him jump, for he'd thought that everyone else had been long gone. He looked to see who it was and the second he saw Dee, he put his eyes on his own shoes.

"Still here?" the man asked.

Drake glanced at him nervously, then offered a forced smile that disappeared just as fast as it had come. A cloud of smoke left his lips on a shaky exhale.

"Can I give you a ride?"

The boy received a text at this time, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He was grateful for this because he knew Dee would feel like a bother if he continued to stick around while he was trying to have a conversation with someone else. "Julio's on his way to get me, so..." He lowered his head again.

Ricardo Santos: shit I forgot he had to stay after class to make up a test. look I'll just ask diyanara to take lead until georgiana can get here

Drake closed his eyes and let go of his breath upon reading this.

"You sure?" came Dee's voice again.

The young man hesitated, then he pushed himself away from the wall and followed him to his car. "Thanks," he said. Once inside, he messaged Ricky and told him he'd gotten a ride with a cast-mate.

Even with the radio playing, the lack of words between the two was awkward, but Drake preferred this over speaking. Unfortunately, Dee broke the silence a few minutes in after turning down the volume on the radio.

"Happy birthday, by the way."

This had been the last thing he'd expected to hear, but so far, it was the only recognition he'd received today. He'd almost forgotten it himself. He hated his birthday, but fucking Facebook had tattled on him. He needed to go in and figure out how to change it or make it private or something. The last thing he wanted was for a bunch of former classmates from high school that he hadn't spoken to since he'd left to remind him that he was still alive and young and had way too many more years left before he could die naturally.

"Thanks."

"Twenty-two, right?"

The boy nodded.

Dee was quiet for about another minute, then he spoke with urgency, like he'd had to hype himself up to say what he'd needed to. "I never really got the chance to say I'm glad you're okay...after everything."

Drake didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say.

"And I'm sorry about hitting you."

He just wanted to crawl under a rock. Dee seemed so strong and confident and self-assured and Drake wasn't any of these things. This embarrassed him. Attempting suicide over a girl seemed like such a weak thing to do now. No matter how much he wanted to open the door and hop right out of the moving car, he knew that this was the best opportunity he had to apologize to Dee for his erratic behavior.

"You don't have to apologize. I'm glad you stopped me. I don't know what the fuck I was doing. I'm so sorry. I just...I have a lot of...issues." It sounded so dumb coming out of his mouth and he could tell that Dee was only pretending to understand.

"Yeah, Ricardo said something like that." It came out with a hint of bitterness. There was always talk about these problems that kept his ex so wound up in Drake's life and no one could tell Dee why he'd been suddenly pushed to the back of the line when it came to the man's focus.

"The last thing I wanted was to get in between the two of you. I know I fucked everything up. I was on a path of self-destruction that night and I destroyed a lot of other things along the way."

"So you and Ricardo had a physical relationship together?" he tried to ask casually.

"It was just one time. We were both super wasted. I was...confused about a lot of things. I think he was, too." The look on Dee's face told Drake what the man was too afraid to ask. "It was just that one time. It never happened again. Ricky is so fucking trustworthy." He saw the man cringe at the nickname. "I know my credibility's not so great, but he is the most loyal person you will ever meet."

"I've noticed that. He just wasn't loyal to me."

"But he was." Drake sighed. "It's just my shit, you know? I have so much fucking bullshit and...I guess my bullshit has become part of someone else and I didn't realize it...that it was getting in the way of things for him."

"I never needed to know all of your personal shit," Dee said. "I just needed to know that I would be valued. There was just an entire month when we were so disconnected. He wouldn't answer my phone calls. He wouldn't respond to my texts. He wasn't present in bed. He wasn't present in conversations. It's like the second you left, he left, too."

"I know what it looks like, but there wasn't anything romantic going on between us. He just has this way of knowing before anyone else — before me even — when I'm gonna ruin my life. He knew all of that shit with Clem was gonna happen before it did. He tried so hard to warn me and I didn't listen and I should've. We don't have any romantic feelings for one another. He just cares about me like I'm some wounded puppy because..."

Because why? That's all Dee wanted to know. He just needed to hear the reason — to hear that it wasn't because he was in love with him.

"...because I am a wounded puppy. That's all I am and he's one of the only people who can see past that. I can't even see past it."

None of this was helping. If anything, it only left Dee with more questions and Drake saw this. He absolutely loved Ricardo to death. He had saved his life countless times. He did literally everything for him. He put up with his mood swings and negativity and baggage and chaos, and what had Drake done for him? He'd ruined the only thing Ricardo had ever wanted. His baggage was a boa constrictor wrapping it's long, heavy body around the man and squeezing every last ounce of energy and life from him. He was the one person who refused — absolutely refused — to give up on him. He stuck around no matter what and rolled with the punches. He accepted any debris that came with Drake's hurricane of traumas. It was time for Drake to do something in return.

"Did you love him?" the young man asked quietly.

There was a brief pause, then Dee spoke with a matching volume. "Yeah. Yeah, I really did." Then, "I still do."

Drake let go of his breath. His eyes were sparkling with the sunlight. "Fuck." He swallowed down the lump in his throat before it could grow any bigger, then took another breath. "Okay. Ask me anything. Whatever you need to know — whatever's gonna fix this — I'll tell you."

"Why does he put you before everyone and everything else in his life?"

Drake closed his eyes as he took a breath in, then he opened them again when he exhaled. "Because he feels guilty. My dad..." He wished he would've taken the cough medicine when he'd had the chance. "My dad used to hit me. Ricky-" He hadn't been able to catch himself before the nickname slipped out again. "-knew about it and he promised me he wouldn't tell. One day, my dad tried to kill me, but I accidentally murdered him in self-defense. These paramedics came in and put me in an ambulance before I bled out all over the kitchen floor. I was so close to death and I had so many broken bones. My dad had practically tortured me. Ricardo felt responsible because he'd kept my secret and...and my dad was...I was..." These words were always the hardest. When he finally said them, his voice cracked. "He raped me. For years." He blinked back his tears.

"Shit. You don't have to-"

"It's okay." He kept going before he lost his nerve. "I don't think Ricardo ever forgave himself."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I wouldn't have asked-"

"I know." He sniffled and wiped the corner of his eye. "So-" His voice cracked so much that he sounded like he was teenager just hitting puberty. He restarted. "So it's like he's made it his mission to save my life, but I keep fucking up over and over and over again. I got addicted to drugs when I was sixteen. The physical and sexual abuse got worse, so my addiction got worse until my dad died. I don't remember a lot after that." His voice was saturated with shame. "I got sober and stayed at my mom's for a while, but these drug dealers were after me and people got hurt and my family was almost killed because of me. My step-dad kicked me out and I started living with this man who supplied me with drugs as long as I returned the favor by sleeping with him. I don't know how Ricardo found me, but he did. This guy was fucking me on the kitchen table and he just bursts through the front door and started raging."

Dee listened politely without interrupting. All of this came as a shock to him and he felt horrible for his lack of understanding when Ricardo had told him he couldn't speak to him about this.

"I was mostly sober for two and a half years. I fell in love with Clementine and I still love her, but they tell me I just got with her to replace my dad. She always yelled at me and belittled me and hit me just like he did. I think I needed someone who wouldn't listen to me — someone who wouldn't take my shit. The first girl I ever loved — I convinced her to relapse with me and she died...right next to me...and I was so fucking gone I didn't even know until I sobered up." He was weeping, but he tried to casually talk through the tears. "Right before Ricardo met you, I ran out on everyone and relapsed. It lasted two months and I started selling my body for a few dollars at this truck stop...until one day, my fucking high school teacher walked in and caught me masturbating for her husband. She took me to my motel room and this guy I owed money to showed up. She paid him off before he killed me, but he beat me and sexually assaulted me in front of her. She took me back to Ricardo and I cleaned up again, then almost immediately relapsed, so he took me and Julio to this cabin in the mountains and that's when we had sex. He resented me for a while after that, but then he met you and he started to embrace his sexuality. Don't worry. I got tested after everything and I came out clean. I was just an experiment to him and vice versa. We love each other to death, but not in that way."

Dee didn't know what to say. He was at a loss for words. Finally, he managed, "I'm so sorry about what happened to you."

"S'okay," his voice cracked out, then a strangled sob left him as he sniffled and wiped his nose. He was trembling and the driver noticed this.

"I feel like such a jackass."

"It's really okay." He wiped his eyes with both hands now because one just wasn't cutting it. "I cry a lot. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry," he said guiltily.

"It's just hard to talk about."

"I shouldn't have asked. I should've trusted Ricardo when he said he couldn't tell me."

"It's okay. You didn't expect him to be hiding all this. I'm sorry. I know it's a lot."

Dee didn't understand why he was apologizing.

"And that's the short version." A chuckle left Drake, but then he went right back to crying. "Ah, God. I'm such a mess. I'm sorry."

"Please stop apologizing. It's alright."

"Okay. Sorry." His face and hands were covered with snot and tears. "Do you have a tissue?"

Dee opened the middle compartment and pulled out some napkins with Subway's logo on them. He passed them over. "Here."

"Thanks." The young man started cleaning himself off. "Please don't tell anyone back at the theatre."

"Of course not. I would never," be promised.

"But if you ever have questions, you can ask Ricardo. You can tell him I said it's okay. I'll tell him. That way, he won't have anything else to hide from you." He grabbed another napkin. "And I've been learning how to rely on myself more since the hospital, so I promise I won't get in the way again if you give him another chance." He looked so pitiful as he begged Dee on his best friend's behalf. He'd promised Ricky that he'd try to work things out with Dee and it seemed like it was going surprisingly well. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to guilt you into anything by crying," the boy said. "I just know he had feelings for you and he's always been there for me and I ruined the one thing in life he ever wanted and I'm sorry." He was still wiping away the steady streams of snot and tears with the rough napkin until his skin was rubbed raw. "If it's me you can't trust, I can move out. Julio hates me now anyway and it's probably best-"

"No one needs to move anywhere." Dee comfortingly put his hand on Drake's shoulder. Now he was seeing firsthand how chaotically impulsive the young man could be.

"I just want him to be happy," he choked out.

"I'll talk to him, okay?"

"You will?"

"Yeah. Maybe we can find a way to work this out. I appreciate you being so open with me and trusting me with everything. I know it wasn't easy saying that to someone you hardly know."

"I'm just sorry for everything that happened."

"Me, too."

---

"Drake, what the fuck? You didn't hear me calling you?" Ricardo asked after pushing his bedroom door open.

No, Drake hadn't heard him. He was high on Charlie and that made all the surrounding noises faint and distant and Ricardo yelling from downstairs was already faint and distant in the first place.

"No." He kept it short so he wouldn't slur and he didn't look up from the journal he was writing in because he wasn't sure if his eyes looked normal or not. Maybe his pupils were dilated. Maybe his eyelids hung low. Maybe his eyeballs would jerk from one place to the other as he attempted to keep his sights on Ricardo while the room spun around him.

"Come downstairs really quick."

The boy groaned.

"Come on."

"For what?"

"Just come on."

Still, he argued. "For what?"

"Because I need to show you something."

"Can't you show me later?"

"No, come on."

Ricardo crossed the room and grabbed his bicep, then pulled him out of bed. Drake focused on walking normally and not stumbling over his own feet. He gripped the railing on the way down the stairs and felt relieved when he safely made it to the kitchen.

"SURPRISE!"

Shit!

Drake looked around the room, which felt so far away even though he was standing right on the edge of it. He saw Julio, Mrs. Hayfer, Samantha, Brett, Gemini, Sawyer, Ricky's and Julio's mom, and a few of their cousins and their cousins' kids.

One of the children, a three-year-old names Kiara, ran up to him with her arms up. "Dwake!"

He lifted her up and held her at his side like he often did. She absolutely loved him and always stayed next to him every time she came over. She used to be scared of him at first because he was new, but then he gave her some goldfish crackers and they became best friends.

"Hey." He forced a smile and kept his eyes on her so that no one else could see them.

"Haffy biwthday!"

"Thank you." He kissed her forehead.

"I got you a pwesent!"

"You did?" It took every ounce of energy in him to muster up some sort of fake enthusiasm. "What is it?"

"It's, um...I fowgot."

Drake forced a a smile when he heard everyone laugh because he didn't want to stand out.

"Oh, yeah! It's-" She leaned in and covered the side of her mouth with her hand as she whispered in his ear.

"Kiara! It's supposed to be a surprise!" her mother Yolanda exclaimed and there was more laughter.

Drake was nervous about having to cross the kitchen. He hoped he could make it look normal. He could feel all eyes on him. The young man put Kiara back on her feet because, if things were to go wrong and he fell and blew his cover, he at least didn't want to injure her. As he went, he felt like he was doing okay, but he couldn't be sure. No one called him out, though. He took a seat in the middle bar stool that had been empty and waiting for him. He noticed Samantha and Mrs. Hayfer at the refrigerator pulling out cake and ice cream, then he hung his head because everything was spinning. Seconds later, he felt arms wrap around him from his left and a pair of lips on his cheek.

"Feliz cumpleaños, Drake." It was Ricardo and Julio's mother.

"Gracias, Mamá." He had always called her mom since as long as he could remember. He had grown up with the Santos brothers; their house had been his home away from home.

"¿Como has estado?"

"Estoy haciendo mejor. ¿Tú?"

Alice was impressed as she set the cake down in front of the boy.

"Estoy bien. Felipe lamenta no poder estar aquí," Ms. Santos said. "Él tuvo que trabajar."

Drake wasn't fluent in Spanish although he had been around it for a long time. He knew the basics and he knew how to answer the questions she often asked during visits. This sentence was a bit advanced for him. It had something to do with her boyfriend Felipe, but that's as much as he was able to understand. If he wasn't high, he could've caught a couple more words — like regret and work — and put it together himself. However, he was hardly capable of comprehending English right now, much less Spanish.

Luckily, Julio was nearby and translated for him. "Felipe's sorry he couldn't come. He had to work." This was the first thing he had said to Drake in days.

"Oh. Eso está bien."

"¿Como te sientes? Te miras enfermo." She reached up and touched his forehead to check his temperature. "Tu cabeza esta caliente."

"Estoy un poco enferma." He wasn't sick, but Ms. Santos knew about his past drug use and he had to lie in order to keep his relapse a secret.

She frowned. "Espero que pronto te sientas mejor."

"Gracias."

Kiara's mom approached and gave Ms. Santos a hug. "Hola, Maya."

She turned towards her. "Hola, Martina. ¡Es bueno verte!"

Drake turned back to the island when she was done talking to him, but then he was dragged into another conversation.

"I didn't know you could speak Spanish," Alice said.

"I just know some." He looked down at the cake so she couldn't see his eyes. They looked like they had the night she had caught him with her husband: empty, dead and dilated. His cake was a rice krispy cake, which was his favorite, and it looked homemade. Since the house didn't smell like marshmallows, he assumed that Sam and Brett had made it and brought it with them.

"Have you had time to start reading Divergent?"

"Yes, ma'am. I like it a lot. I'm a little over halfway done." He had been a little over halfway done for a while, but since he started back using Triple C's, he hasn't been reading much.

"It's great, isn't it? My students went crazy over this book when it got popular a few years ago. I'm all about encouraging kids to read, but I teach a math class."

The young man forced a smile because he thought that's what he would've done had he not been so high and numb to everything.

"Oh, how are the rehearsals going by the way?"

"Um..." He shrugged. "They're alright," but he gave her a look that said they could be better.

"You're not liking it?"

"No, it's great. I guess I'm just...having a hard time fitting in."

"You mean you're actually not the most popular person for once?" She feigned shock, then the two laughed.

"Weird, isn't it?" It was hard to joke around with Charlie, but one thing that was easy was sarcasm. He became serious again almost immediately. "They all just seem so sure of themselves and who they wanna be. It's just a little intimidating."

"You're young. You still have time."

It didn't feel like it. He didn't get the chance to reply because he felt someone touch his shoulder. There was so much touching going on that he was starting to feel glad that he'd taken the pills. Had he not, he may have had a mental breakdown in the middle of his own surprise party. The young man turned to his right and saw Gemini, who pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek. Drake hadn't realized just how much he needed a hug until this moment. He held on a bit longer than he meant to.

"Happy birthday, babe!"

Sawyer was beside him. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks. Mrs. Hayfer, these are my friends Gemini and Sawyer. This is Mrs. Hayfer, my math teacher from high school."

Gemini shook her hand femininely and, as she held her hand out, Drake noticed that she was still wearing the gray and yellow bracelet he'd made for her back in the hospital. He looked down at his own wrist and saw his matching one, then felt a tinge of guilt. All of these people loved and supported him, yet he was still getting high everyday and he'd been doing a lot of lying lately to cover for his drug use.

The young man felt a hand on his shoulder and could tell by the size of the hand and the gentleness and caution that it was Ricardo.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. Just exhausted." He still refused to meet his eyes, but he lifted his head back up.

"You have your lighter on you?"

Drake felt the front pockets of his jeans. "No."

"Where is it?"

He searched his brain for the answer. He was too high for this. He could hardly remember ten minutes ago, much less...whenever the last time he'd had it was. He tried to retrace his steps. He definitely had it at the theatre because he'd been smoking when Dee had approached him after rehearsals.

"Drake?"

When he got home, he took the pills, showered, then he'd gone outside for another cigarette. He often left his pack on the porch, so he was willing to bet that his lighter was there.

"The porch, I think."

"Okay. You okay?" he asked again, this time with suspicion in his voice.

I'm being too fucking obvious! "Yeah."

The man disappeared outside for a quick moment, then returned as Brett struggled to force a few candles into the rice krispy cake. There was so much going on around him. Sawyer and Gemini were still chatting with Mrs. Hayfer and Mrs. Santos and Martina were talking and children were running and screaming, yet it all felt so far away. It was faint as if Drake were in his own little glass box underneath the water. It was moments like these when he really appreciated Charlie's power.

"You alright?" It was Brett. He looked at him with concern as he pushed in the last candle.

"Yeah."

"You looked like you were really focused on something."

Drake had to stop going into a daze. That would get him caught. "I didn't get much sleep last night and I had a long day at rehearsals."

"Oh, yeah. How are those going?"

This again. He didn't have the energy to discuss it. "Good."

"That's good. Sammy and I are really glad you're trying something new. I think you'll do great."

"Alright," Ricardo said when he returned. He flicked the lighter, then started lighting the candles. There were two on one side and two on the other to signify that Drake was turning twenty-two.

The next several minutes went by in a blur. The lights went out, people were singing, the cake was cut into slices and everyone was talking and eating. Gemini brought over a shot, but Drake refused it. However, he kept pushing and the young man didn't want to make a scene. It wasn't like him to turn down alcohol anyway, so he tossed the vodka — who the fuck chose vodka? — back and shivered. Even Triple C's couldn't numb him from that taste. Luckily, they did dull it quite a bit. Otherwise, he would be running to the bathroom to hurl. Gem gave him another shot, then another and that's when Drake drew the line and told him he didn't want to get drunk and have to suffer through rehearsals in the morning with a hangover.

The alcohol enhanced his cough medicine buzz after a while and really made it hard not to slur. Drake wasn't sure when it had happened, but he had somehow nodded off right there where he was sitting. What woke him was Sawyer giving him a rough kick and, when he looked up, he saw Ricardo's eyes on him. The man looked away as if nothing was wrong, so Drake was hoping that maybe it had just looked like he'd been staring at the ground. If he didn't feel so fucked up, he would've regretted taking those shots. Alcohol and pills are never a safe mixture.

Present time came soon. Drake turned in his stool as Samantha helped Gem bring the gifts over. As he waited, he leaned over and rubbed his face. God, he was fucking tripping hard. He was having vivid hallucinations about the people and the environment around him and he felt so fucking amazing. He didn't realize it, but he must've started to slump forwards a bit too far in his stool because Sawyer, who had planted himself next to Drake after the first incident, put his hand on his shoulder roughly to catch him before he fell.

"Looks like someone's had a bit too much to drink." He laughed and a few others that had seen what had happened joined him.

If Drake gave a shit right now, he would've been extremely grateful that his friend was covering for him.

Gemini started passing the birthday boy his presents one at a time. When Drake received the first one, he immediately ran into a problem. He couldn't read the card. Everything was so blurry and he couldn't tell who the gift was from.

"Kiara, you wanna help Drake unwrap the present you got him?" Sawyer asked.

Fucking Sawyer coming through in the clutch! I fucking love him!

Now that Drake knew who this present was from, he felt relieved. When they got the wrapping off, he saw a purple and blue box. On the front was a picture of a glass ball that had a solar system inside. It was like a snow globe, but instead of snow, there was glitter to represent stars.

"Believe it or not, she picked that out herself," Martina said.

"Because you love space!" said Kiara.

"This is so cool. I love it," he said genuinely.

Kiara then helped him unwrap every gift afterwards and Sawyer casually and inconspicuously set up a system where he read the card out loud to everyone (but mostly to Drake). This worked out nicely because Kiara always immediately tore at the wrapping paper without giving any of the cards a second thought.

When present time was over, Drake had received a one hundred dollar Visa gift card from Mrs. Santos, thirty dollars from one of Ricky's and Julio's cousins and a nice outfit from Gemini. Sawyer gave him the movie Whiplash, which was one of his favorites and he thought that Drake would love it, too. Samantha and Brett got him a used SNES and a couple games for it. Alice got him a bookshelf that he would have to put together later. Julio got him a couple pairs of pants and four shirts. Ricardo gave him three movies — all trippy and mind-bending. One was Climax, which was a brilliantly deranged French film involving dancers and LSD-laced sangria. The second was Moon, which was about a man on the moon having a strange encounter. Last was High Life, which was a sexually-saturated film about a father and daughter being amongst a group of criminals that were in a spacecraft headed for a black hole. He thanked everyone for his gifts and everyone gradually left afterwards until it was only Drake, Ricardo and Julio left. The youngest had disappeared upstairs with the alcohol long ago. Ricardo closed the door behind the last person, then he turned back to the young man, who had never moved from his place on the stool. Drake figured he should say something.

"Um, thanks for all this." He hated parties, but he didn't want to be rude.

The man sighed and slowly entered the kitchen and sat down on the seat next to his friend. "Drake..." His voice was dripping with disappointment.

"What?" he asked, playing dumb.

"Are you high?"

"What?" Deny, deny, deny! "No."

"You are." He remained calm despite how upset he was.

"No, I'm not! I had too much to drink is all."

"Bullshit."

Drake did something really risky and he met the man's eyes. "I'm not fucking high!"

"So we're back to doing this again? You really have no problem looking me in the eyes and lying right to my face?"

"Fuck this!" His aggression was a sure sign of a relapse. He started to stand and lost his balance.

Ricardo caught him. "How many did you take?"

"I didn't take any!"

"You know you shouldn't be mixing that shit with alcohol." He stood. "Come on. I'll help you upstairs."

"I don't need your fucking help." However, he came close to falling again due to the fact that everything was spinning.

Again, the man caught him and Drake didn't protest further as Ricky guided him up to the second floor. He took him to his room and left, then soon returned wearing sweatpants and a tee.

"The fuck?"

"I'm bunking with you tonight."

"I just wanna be alone."

"So you can sneak out and run away and never come back?"

"I'm not fucking high!" he argued with irritation.

"I'm still sleeping in here." He was worried about his friend because he'd mixed alcohol with cough medicine and he couldn't handle waking up in the morning and finding Drake dead. "I brought High Life, so we can watch that or I'll watch it and you can do whatever the hell you want as long as you don't leave this room."

Watching High Life whilst high seemed like a good idea and that's the only reason he gave in.

---

He groaned when his alarm went off. He'd hardly slept last night. It was hard to sleep on Triple C's. Even after the climax of the high starts to wear off, the user remains in a strange state of not being fully awake, but not being fully asleep either. He'd tossed and turned and had a hallucination/dream that he'd been at rehearsals, which sucked. On top of his lack of rest, what rest he did get was spent rehearsing in his head, which was no different to him than actually rehearsing because he felt as though he had been doing it for real for hours. Now he actually had to really go and spend all day rehearsing. This is how his past few days had been going since the relapse. He was always so tired and it was starting to show in the dark circles beneath his eyes.

Drake hit the snooze button so many times and just laid there wide awake for so long that he didn't have time to shower, which sucked because the drugs left him coated in sweat. At the last possible minute, he got out of bed, threw on some clothes, brushed his teeth and headed downstairs. Before he could open the door, he heard a voice say his name.

"Drake." It was Ricardo and he was standing in the living room. "Let's talk for a minute."

"I'm running late."

"Sit down."

"I really have to-"

"Sit." He was gentle, yet firm and the young man knew that he wasn't being given a choice. "Down."

Drake went into the living room and took a seat on the couch. Ricardo sat, too, so that he didn't come off as some superior, intimidating dictator. The man took a breath, then slowly let it out as he thought about how to begin.

Finally, he started with, "You relapsed."

Drake hung his head. He knew that there was no use denying it at this point. Now that he'd sobered up for the most part, he knew that Ricardo knew and continuing to lie would only make things worse. His voice was almost inaudible. "Yeah." He cringed when he heard the man sigh with disappointment.

"What were you thinking, Drake? There were kids here."

"I didn't know they'd be here."

"I told you days ago that they wanted to throw you a surprise party because I know you hate surprises."

Drake didn't remember this conversation at all — not even vaguely. If he admitted this, it would draw even more suspicion. However, he needed to give an explanation for his behavior. "I guess I forgot...in the moment."

Ricardo believed him. He knew how much a strong craving could affect his friend. "What happened?" He still had disappointment in his voice.

"I don't know. I guess I was just really upset."

"About what?"

A few years ago, he had adopted this habit of placing blame on other people and making them feel guilty so that it wasn't his fault he was an addict. Anytime he got caught or whenever someone tried to nag him or scold him, he would just flip it around on them and make them feel like complete shit. He couldn't remember all of the fucked up things he had told his parents or his siblings or his friends. If he made them feel bad enough, then they'd blame themselves and leave Drake alone about it, at least for a little while. It was cruel, he knew that, but it was just one of the many traits of addiction that he was beginning to adopt once again.

"Dee offered me a ride home after rehearsals. I was exhausted and I didn't wanna walk all the way home, so I let him." What he really meant was 'Because you didn't pick me up like you said you would, I had to go home with Dee and that's what caused all this.' However, it was important not to say the word 'you' here. Learning to place blame properly was an art. You don't blame them; you make them blame themselves. When he said he had made the choice to accept the ride from Dee, it sounded like he was admitting to a judgement error — like he was taking responsibility — but he wasn't. Verbally blaming himself would only make Ricardo feel more guilty by the time he finished his story. "Obviously, the break-up came up in conversation and we finally had a chance to talk alone, so I figured I'd just go with it because my apology was long overdue. I only knew him for a couple months and he already got mixed up with all my crazy, so I felt like I owed him an explanation. All he wanted to know was why I'm so important to you, so...I told him everything." If he wasn't so fucking numb, he would try to elicit tears, but it was no use even attempting now. "I told him about my dad and my addiction problem and Clem and Meelah and whoring myself out. I got really upset, but I was still okay," he said. "But then I got home and you know how my brain works. I just started spiraling hard."

Ricardo had listened to everything he'd said without interruption, but he spoke now that the boy was finished. "Drake, you didn't have to do that. If I knew it was gonna cause you to relapse, I never would've asked you to talk to him."

"I know, but I wanted to. I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

"I appreciate that, but nothing would make me happier than to see you clean and content with being that way."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I should've known that asking you to talk to him wouldn't be some simple fix."

"I don't want you to blame yourself." On the contrary, that's exactly what Drake wanted and it was working, too. "If it makes you feel any better, he said he wanted to try to work things out with you."

Ricardo's face was riddled with guilt, but there was something else in his eyes — something like gratitude.

"And I told him that he could ask you if he had other questions. That way, you won't have to keep secrets from him on my behalf. I'm okay with him knowing," the young man said. "And anything that happens in the future — we don't have to hide it from him. Now there are no more barriers."

Ricardo sighed and looked down at his lap as if contemplating. Seconds later, he met Drake's eyes again. "I really appreciate everything you did," said Ricardo with a kind smile, "but if you ever do something that stupid again, I'll kick your ass."

It took so much energy for Drake to lift his mouth muscles into a small grin. Ricky pulled him into a hug and the boy reciprocated the embrace. They stayed like that for a few moments until the oldest broke the silence.

"How are we gonna deal with this, Drake?" He was asking about the relapse. He wanted to know how bad it was and if it was more than a one-time thing.

"I fucked up, but it won't happen again. That's it. I'll clean up again."

"You say that now while you're still feeling the numbing effects you love so much, but what about tonight when that's worn off and the craving hits the hardest?"

"I've gotten through it before. I can do it again."

"I won't be here. I have to work tonight," the man said. There was a pause, then he spoke with uncertainty. "Would you be willing to come to the bar tonight and hang out in the office? I know that's a lot to ask-"

"No, I'll do it. I owe you that much."

"I'll pick you up on my way to work then?"

"Okay, great."

It hadn't even been a week since his relapse had started and not only was Drake breaking one of his rules today; he was breaking three: don't get high first thing in the morning, don't use more than once a day and don't use in public. Since he was going to be under supervision later on that day with his friend watching him like a hawk, he couldn't get fucked up at the bar, but he also couldn't get fucked up at his Rent rehearsals either. Therefore, he'd come up with a plan. He was just gonna take half his normal amount, just twenty-four pills, this morning — enough for a buzz, but not so much that he couldn't function — then he'd take the other half later at the bar after this high had worn off. In the back of his mind, he knew that this would lead to bad places. He was breaking the stipulations he'd set for himself already. Pretty soon, he'd be back in Tad's bed breaking rules four, five, six, seven and eight. However, he didn't dwell on the thought. He kept trying to tell himself that it wouldn't get that far, but he knew better.

---

The young man was hunched over as he sat on some small metal bleachers. Right now, the actors playing Roger and Mimi were running through one of their duets, so everyone else waited off to the side. They were all in little groups, but Drake didn't want to be bothered. He preferred being alone, or at least that's what he told himself because he had no friends here. High school was long over, but still all he wanted was to fit in.

"Hey," came a voice suddenly. Dee plopped down next to him.

"What's up?" the boy asked to be kind. He sat up so that he wouldn't look sketchy.

"You have a good birthday?"

"It was alright. There was a surprise party and I don't know. S'kinda not my thing."

"No? I love parties, especially when they're about me."

Drake knew that he should smile or chuckle or something — anything! — but he couldn't muster the energy. There were a few awkward moments of silence before he heard the man speak again.

"Anyway, I got you this."

Drake looked at him and watched him pull a blue birthday bag out from next to him. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"I know, but I wanted to."

The young man glanced around involuntarily. He didn't want anyone to see that he'd had a birthday because he didn't want the attention. He moved the tissue paper to the side and saw black cloth in the bottom of the bag. He pulled it out and unfolded it. It was a t-shirt with the Rent logo on it in white. "Wow, this is so dope," he said. "Thank you."

"I hope I got the right size."

He went ahead and put the shirt on over the one he was already wearing, which was a red and black plaid button-up with a collar. This way, the checkered sleeves and collar that stuck out would add some color and give it that punk look. Now he could get rid of the bag and there wouldn't be any evidence that he'd just had a birthday.

"It's great," he said. "Where'd you get it?"

"They're giving them to all of the cast tomorrow, but I snagged yours early so I can say it's from me." This actually did make Drake laugh. "Now you'll get to be cooler than everyone else for a day."

"Just what I always wanted." He really did like the shirt and it lightened his mood a lot, but it still surprised him that he was able to show a real smile and banter playfully.

Suddenly, the theatre director named Catalina spoke with a loud voice. "Alright, I need my Angel and Collins."

"Welp, that's me." Dee stood and made his way to the middle of the floor.

Drake watched as the four practiced a song. Everyone here seemed to have a general knowledge of the play and the lyrics, so they were going to start learning the choreography early. He wasn't horrible at dancing, but he wasn't great at it either. Julio was amazing. If they were still on speaking terms, he might've asked him to help him practice. It would've been nice to be able to talk to him again. He was falling apart and he could really use his best friend right now.

---

"How are you feeling?" Ricardo asked as he pulled his key out of the ignition.

Drake was still numb, but this wasn't a good answer. He searched his brain for what kind of response his friend was looking for, but he couldn't think clearly.

"Is it gonna be too much? To see all your former coworkers again?"

So that's what he was asking. The young man only shrugged, but he could see that this response didn't satisfy the man. "A little overwhelming, I guess." Even with the effects of Charlie, this was true. He hadn't seen these people since he had walked out on them about six or seven months ago. December felt like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since then, but he still hadn't made much progress. Last time he was here, he was being congratulated on being so close to his year anniversary of sobriety. He went through relapses, homelessness, prostitution, sexual assault, many hospital trips, an engagement, a break-up, a suicide attempt, surgeries, a stay at a mental hospital and yet another relapse. So much has happened, yet nothing has changed. He was still the same old selfish, deceptive Drake Parker.

Drake was the first to open his door and get out of the car and Ricardo followed suit. They crossed the employee parking lot and the man pulled out his key for the back entrance. Luckily, no one was currently cleaning dishes and the kitchen crew was busy, so they made it to the owner's office undetected.

Ricardo went over to his desk and set down his travel mug, which was filled to the brim with hot coffee. He pulled the laptop Julio had let him borrow out of the carrier bag and placed it, along with a few DVDs, on the desk. "Don't let anything happen to this, alright? You know my brother rarely lets anyone else use it."

The young man nodded. Being back here brought back so many memories. When he'd first cleaned up about three years ago, Ricardo had forced him to go everywhere with him. Every time he went to work, Drake had to follow. He spent many days and nights here in this office and that was triggering in itself. Luckily, he could take his pills as soon as he was left alone.

"Want me to have Darius make you something to eat?"

Drake declined.

"You sure?"

"I took a lot of pills last night. It'll probably be tomorrow before I get my appetite back." The last thing he felt like dealing with was Ricardo trying to force-feed him. He didn't like to eat before taking Triple C's. Whether it was actually true or not, he felt like the food stunted his high. This was part of why he always lost so much weight so fast after a relapse. He knew he needed to be proactive about these kinds of things, but he couldn't convince himself to care enough.

"Hey, I appreciate that you came. I know it's annoying, especially because you spent all day at rehearsals."

"It's okay. I don't mind. I messed up and I don't want you to worry about me because of that." This time, his numbness gave way to guilt. "Besides, I think it's a good idea for me to be here, too. The last thing I need is to be home alone right now."

Ricardo offered him a friendly smile. "If you need anything or if you start getting cravings, come get me, okay? Or text me."

"Okay."

Drake was caught off guard when Ricardo wrapped his arms around him. His brain was too clouded to comprehend why this was happening. When the boy had first gotten clean, he'd had plenty of relapses, but none were anywhere near as bad as the one that had convinced him to leave home for two months and sell his body to random strangers. Usually, it was just a one-time thing, then he'd admit his mistake and they'd work through things. Thing hadn't been like that lately, though, but Ricardo was just glad that it was this time. Drake was choosing sobriety over a life of pleasure and it wasn't even taking much convincing. If Ricky had not've noticed yesterday, the boy may not have admitted it and that could've started a whole spiral once again. He was just glad to have caught it early. He was glad that Drake was still here to hug and not in some creep's tractor.

He pulled back some and kept his hand on the back of the young man's head as he met his eyes. "I'm proud of you."

Even more guilt flooded into his heart and he felt like he was drowning in it. Now he really needed Charlie. He offered a small smile that disappeared almost as fast as it had come. The second Ricardo was gone, he grabbed the open and ready box of pills and a bottle of water from the mini fridge and began swallowing them down.

---

Ricardo Santos: where ru?

He sighed as he lifted his eyes off of his phone and looked at the empty office. This was the third time he had checked. The main lights were switched off and the only thing that illuminated the room was the dim lamp on his desk. Drake was sensitive to light, so this wasn't anything strange. What was strange was that he couldn't find his friend anywhere. The first time he saw that the boy was missing, he didn't worry too much. He could've went to the bathroom or outside for fresh air or a cigarette. When he checked again twenty minutes later and saw that he still hadn't returned, that's when he began to worry. Now Drake has been gone for at least forty minutes. He could be at the store buying drugs right now.

Ding!

The sudden text alert caught his attention, only it wasn't his phone. He went around his desk and saw Drake's phone lit up on the floor due to the text he had just sent. Next to it was his friend. The young man was curled up underneath the desk with the laptop on his knees and Ricardo's red Beats By Dre headphones over his ears. He stared blankly at the screen in front of him, completely unaware of the message on his phone.

Ricardo pushed the rolling chair out of the way and squatted down. Although Drake had split up his pills so that he wouldn't get too fucked up, he had taken them many days in a row and the new pills seemed to reactivate the old pills, making him a bit higher than he'd originally hoped. Therefore, he didn't even notice the man's presence until his shoulder was tapped.

"What the fuck?" he asked after Drake scooted the headphones down so that he wore them around his neck. He didn't sound angry. In fact, his voice showed his relief. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Drake was sitting on a comforter and had a blanket wrapped around him. Ricardo kept these in his office because, when the boy had come to work with him a few years ago, he often napped on the little bench. He looked cozy curled up in the small spot underneath the desk. He loved small spaces unless he was closed in fully. That would give him flashbacks to times he spent in his father's closet and basement.

"Sorry," Drake said.

"I'm about to clock out for break and get a salad. You want anything?"

He shook his head, then, "Actually, can I have a Sprite?" He was tired of water because it tasted like the sugar-coated pills. The only thing that could overpower that taste was something that could coat his mouth in even more syrupy sugar. Spite did this. It was so syrupy that it sometimes created bubbles in his throat that made it hard to breathe. Plus, it was something that he could actually somewhat taste, which was nice because he hadn't tasted what little he had eaten or drank since his relapse had started.

"That's it?"

When Drake nodded, he stood and left his office. The clock-in station was right beside his door, so he punched his card, then got his salad and two drinks. When he returned, he passed the Sprite off, then sat down in his chair, but away from the desk enough so that he wasn't crowding his friend. Drake continued to watch his movie. He was watching High Life again because he had been way too high to remember anything last night when he'd watched it with Ricky. He was glad that the man didn't try to start a conversation because he wasn't sure he could hold one without slurring.

He'd asked Ricardo before the man had picked him up from rehearsals to bring the DVDs he had gotten for his birthday. On their way here, the man had asked him in the car if he remembered watching High Life with him. Drake did, but he couldn't recall what had happened. Every now and then, a few specific images would look familiar. Ricky cautioned him about a rape scene and an attempted rape scene. He told him how far into the film they happened, how long they lasted and what to look for so that the young man would know when they were coming. Drake appreciated the warning. He wondered how he had responded when he'd watched it last night or if he'd even responded at all. There was a lengthy and graphic masturbation scene towards the beginning as well. All this made him glad that he hadn't been aware of what he was watching the night before. This was definitely the kind of film you'd want to watch alone.

After Ricardo's break was over, he didn't interrupt Drake's movie to tell him that he was clocking back in. He left the boy alone in the dimly lit room and found him that way every time he went in to check on him. This gave him hope that this relapse wouldn't be bad like the ones before it.

---

"Oh, did you manage to get through all your movies?" Ricardo asked as he turned onto the street.

Drake was finishing up a large yawn. "No. I watched High Life three times."

The man paused before he said anything. "Why?"

"Because I kinda hated it the first time, but I kept thinking about it and I knew that I had to be wrong, so I gave it another shot and started to like it. I think the sexual assaults turned me off even though you warned me about them. It was just a lot. On my second run, I started to understand why they were there and that they were necessary for the plot. When I watched it the third time, I was in love with it." Although this was true, this wasn't the complete truth. He watched the movie three times so that he could see it from three different perspectives. He was pretty high the first time. He was coming down the next. The last time he watched it, he was left with no high feeling — just the numbness and focus that he loved. He couldn't tell Ricardo this, though, because then he'd be admitting to his consistent drug use.

"I'm glad you liked it. I know you've been talking about it for a while and when I watched it, I thought I'd made a mistake. I basically said, 'Happy birthday. Here's a violent, unsettling porn flick.'"

"I never watched the trailer because I wanted to go in blind, so I didn't know it was so graphic. I honestly didn't know it was so sex-focused at all. The plot I read said it was about a father and daughter struggling to survive as they head towards a black hole. I thought I was gonna watch this chill outer space movie, but nah." Another yawn.

"Sorry for keeping you out so late." It was two in the morning and Drake had rehearsals at seven.

"It's okay. I had fun." He was being genuine. Sitting in that office watching movies filled him with nostalgia. Plus, it was so relaxing being alone in the dark in a small space away from everyone else. He felt like he could breathe better under that desk.

When they got home, Drake immediately went up stairs and passed out within a matter of minutes.

---

Finally, he had a day off from rehearsals. And how was he spending it? With Charlie, of course. He was home alone. Ricardo was at work and Julio was God knows where. Over the past couple days, like predicted, he'd broken every single one of the rules he'd made for himself. He was using more frequently and Ricky even questioned him about his appearance and behavior at one point. He blamed it on the antidepressants. He said that the Effexor had started kicking in and that it made him feel numb and took away his hunger. He wasn't sure if this was what the medication actually did, but the man seemed to believe him.

"Bruh, chill."

Macaulay kept nudging her head against him and stepping on the pills that he was piling up on his mattress as he tore open the packages. Agent Jack Bauer was constantly clawing at the door and meowing and she'd been doing this for a while. Finally, Drake stood and hastily opened the door. Both cats bolted out of the room and down the hallway. The young man went back over to the bed and continued opening the boxes. He tried to do it quickly because it made him nauseous just thinking about having to swallow down so many. He already felt like he was going to throw up. He'd have to-

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. He had no time to react before he saw Julio standing outside his door. The boy immediately saw the bright red pills.

"Wow, you actually lied to my brother." His voice was both monotone and bitter at the same time somehow. "Guess that means the old Drake is back and you'll be running off soon to get yourself killed."

He hadn't spoke to Julio since his party and he'd hardly spoken to him then. He'd just translated something in Spanish for him and the birthday boy had thanked him for the gift he'd received. Now he saw that Drake was back on drugs and he said something to make him feel bad, but he didn't try to stop him like he normally would've had they been on good terms. The young man's eyes soon landed on the bottle of whiskey Julio was trying to hide by his side. That was some audacity he had to put Drake down when he was practically doing the same thing. Not knowing what to do, Drake stood and closed his door right in his face. He was pretty sure that Julio wouldn't rat him out to Ricardo because he was probably too scared that he would do the same back.

Drake's addiction was taking over once again and Julio's was just beginning. Both were going through similar struggles, yet they hated each other for that. It was like they weren't even friends anymore, and just when they needed each other the most, too.

---

Drake opened his eyes when Hero pulled her lips away from him. It was stunning the way her brown skin glowed as the setting sun shined through the skylight above her bed and filled the room with an orange and pink tint.

He gently caressed her cheek with his fingers and she kissed his thumb when he brushed it across her full lips. "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

She let out a cute little laugh that only made him crave her more. "You have. Every time you're here."

"That's not enough," he said.

She was laying there next to him and she had no clothes on, but his eyes never left her eyes. He wasn't complimenting her body like most men, although she knew he appreciated that, too. He was looking deeper. She didn't know this, but he was high on Triple C's and he felt like he understood everything about her. Charlie had a way of doing that.

When she'd ended the kiss, she had planned on the two of them hopping into the shower and then figuring out dinner, but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She nudged her head into the crook of his neck and he planted a couple soft kisses on the top of her head while giving her a tight squeeze, then he just held her. After her husband's unexpected death, she'd given herself a lot of time to heal before jumping back into the dating scene. It was hard to start over. She'd built a whole life with this man. One day, he was there and the next day, he was just...gone. Every man she met was a one-and-done kind of guy. They'd meet up, have sex, then they'd never speak to one another again. Drake was different. He didn't leave after getting what every other guy seemed to want. Like right now, he could easily slip on his clothes and walk out the front door and out of her life forever, but he stayed. He seemed to know everything she needed. He said the right words. He held her when she needed to be held. It's like he knew her inside and out and the only other person who had contained that knowledge was her husband. She was beginning to have feelings for the twenty-two year old guy she'd met in the mental hospital just weeks ago and this made her feel guilty. This was the first time she had felt any sort of emotional attachment towards another man besides her husband and it scared her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Drake asked softly when he heard her sniffle.

"I just miss him so much," she said through her weeping.

The boy pulled her so close to himself that there was no gap between them. He held on tighter and slid his fingertips up and down her spine. "I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

They stayed that way for a long time with their limbs intertwined like that. He didn't display any jealousy or anger or bitterness. He only spoke kind and comforting words to her and she knew that he meant them. At such a young age, he understood loss. He was wise beyond his years.

"I don't want to be alone," she said. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Of course."

---

Drake looked at the clock, which read 10:03, then he looked at Hero, who was fast asleep. As gently as he could, he lifted her head with one hand so that he could slide his trapped arm out from underneath it. Once that was done, he slowly sat up, then stopped halfway when he saw her move. However, she was only repositioning herself while she slept. He got out of bed, then grabbed his backpack and tiptoed into her bathroom. He closed the door behind himself, then pulled open his bag and found a couple boxes of Triple C's. He was just going to take one since he was still feeling the effects of the last one. He swallowed the twenty-four pills down with sink water, then decided to shower. He was already naked, so he got right in, his body so numb that the freezing droplets that fell before it had time to heat were actually bearable. He cleaned himself off and washed his hair, then got out and dried off. His high still hadn't hit and it probably wouldn't for another thirty minutes or so.

The young man went back into the bedroom quietly and saw Hero still asleep like he'd left her. He'd found a robe hanging up on the closet door in the bathroom, so he slipped that on. Drake gathered up the clothes they had taken off earlier that day and took them downstairs to the laundry room, then he took some of his clean clothes out of the dryer and folded them. He left those in the bedroom so that he could wear them in the morning, then he grabbed his cigarettes and quietly opened the sliding glass door in her bedroom. It led to a small concrete slab that acted like a back porch, but there wasn't much going on. There was a circular table with three chairs and a grill that looked as if it hadn't been used in quite some time. He took a seat, then lit up his cigarette.

Drake chain-smoked a few, snuck inside to throw up, brushed his teeth, then crawled back into bed so that he could cuddle with Hero and hallucinate that he was anywhere he chose to be.

"Mm, youokay?" the tired woman slurred when she felt him wrap his arms around her to spoon her.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Just went outside for a smoke."

She craned her neck so that he could give her a quick peck on the lips, then she snuggled into him and was asleep in seconds.

---

When Drake opened his eyes, he saw that Hero was already awake and scrolling through Pinterest on her phone. His eyes were somewhat blurry from tiredness, but it looked like she was browsing through healthy recipes. He kissed her bare shoulder to let her know that he was awake, then she put her phone down and turned around to face him.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning."

They shared a quick kiss.

"Have you been awake long?" The clock said 7:36, but it didn't surprise him that he was up so early despite going to bed so late. On Triple C's, when he went to sleep, he didn't actually go to sleep...not completely. He wasn't awake either, though. It was like a dream, but more vivid, like a hallucination. It was like he was both asleep and awake at the same time, but also neither. It was rather uncomfortable actually. He couldn't sleep; he couldn't stay awake.

"Not long. Maybe thirty minutes."

"How are you feeling?" He was referring to last night's breakdown.

"Better. I appreciate you staying." She placed her hand on his cheek and gave him a grateful smile. "You hungry?"

"Lemme take you out somewhere. You want Waffle House?"

Technically, he didn't have a job, but Mrs. Hayfer had asked Drake if he'd come cut her grass every other weekend and she'd pay him. The first day he did this, one of her elderly neighbors asked if he'd take care of her lawn as well and he said he would. The next time he came, he had three other neighbors, also senior citizens and probably friends with the first lady, approach him about lawn care, so every other Saturday, he went to his former teacher's neighborhood and cut grass for a good portion of the day, but he didn't mind. It was one day of work and he made sixty dollars per yard. That was three hundred dollars every other week, which definitely helped him afford the cough medicine, cigarettes and whatever else he needed.

"Waffle House sounds good. We'll shower and then we'll go."

Hero sat up, then grabbed her pill container that had the first letter of every weekday on each of the seven lids. She lifted the one that said F, then swallowed the antidepressant given to her at the mental hospital.

"Don't forget your medicine." Somehow, she was both joking and serious at the same time. She just couldn't get over the fact that she'd met Drake in a mental hospital of all places.

She got up and Drake watched her as she walked to her bathroom, unashamed of her nudity. His arm was asleep since she had been laying on it all night — not just regular asleep, but painfully asleep. He heard the shower water running and forced himself out of bed. He took his prescription while he had it on his brain, then massaged his arm as he made his way into the bathroom. They both brushed their teeth before they got in the shower in case things got intimate. After their shower, they got dressed and headed for Waffle House.

---

As Drake opened the front door, he lifted his arm and wiped the sweat from his forehead, then he made his way to the kitchen, following the scent of food. It was hot in here, too.

"You finished?" Mrs. Hayfer asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dinner's almost ready."

After Drake got out of the hospital, Mrs. Hayfer started inviting him — and the Santos brothers whenever they were free — over to her house for dinner every Saturday. Now that Drake spent most of the day on her street, she fed him lunch and dinner. Luckily, her husband was usually away for work on Saturdays. Garrett wasn't as mean as he had been the first day he'd met him, but it was just awkward for both of them to see each other after the truck stop incident. Mrs. Hayfer was almost like a mother to him, but her husband could never be like his father — not after Drake had touched himself in front of him. Everything since Drake's and his former math teacher's unexpected friendship had began was still new and strange and everyone was still healing.

When Alice gave him a glass of water, he said, "Thank you." He was out of breath and exhausted. "Do you mind if I shower?"

"No, go right ahead. The clothes you left here last time are clean and folded on the shelf in the laundry room.

Drake grabbed his change of clothes, took a quick shower, got dressed and put his dirty clothes in the laundry room hamper. Alice always insisted on washing them for him. When he returned to the kitchen, she was placing a large dish on the table. The young man knew his way around her house enough to know where she kept the dishes and silverware, so he grabbed two plates and some eating utensils and helped her set the table.

Surprisingly, Drake hadn't taken any Triple C's today, but he was still feeling the effects from his recent non-stop binge. He was completely wiped out and he was desperate for a good night's sleep. He'd been walking around with dark circles under his heavy eyes for days now and he was starting to do and say strange things that drew in suspicion from Ricardo. Plus, he was losing weight fast and he needed to get control of that. Still, he wasn't hungry, but he didn't dare refuse the food that Mrs. Hayfer cooked.

Once the table was prepared and they were in their seats, Alice started with prayer. Drake bowed his head politely and repeated her, "Amen," when she was done. Next, they dug in.

"How's your summer going?" the boy asked. He took a bite of the mashed potatoes.

"It's going well. I've had a lot of extra free time to relax and take up old hobbies."

"Like what?"

"I used to play the violin when I was younger, so I pulled that out of the closet and I've been playing the piano some here and there."

"I didn't know you could play music."

"It was a long time ago. I've forgotten a lot, so I'm reteaching myself. What about you? Have you been playing your music lately?"

He shook his head as he swallowed the potatoes. He always stuck to eating one food on his plate instead of going back and forth between potatoes and bread and meatloaf like Mrs. Hayfer. "It's just hard to pick up a guitar again after the last time."

"What happened last time?"

"Julio asked me to play this gig with him a few months ago. It was at this venue we performed at regularly back in high school and the owner said he'd get the word out that we were doing a set to draw the old crowd in. I didn't really wanna do it because I was a mess back then. I'd get high on stage and I don't even know what I did half the time, but the audience loved it. I didn't wanna let Julio down, though, so I did it, but I guess everyone was expecting me to be that drug-fueled guy I was in high school and this was after you took me home and I got clean. Someone threw a box of cough medicine on stage and then everyone was yelling at me to take them. I just walked off stage in the middle of the song and had a panic attack, then I left and bought a couple boxes, but I told Ricardo and he talked me through it."

"And these were your fellow classmates?"

"Most of them."

Alice was surprised that so many people seemed to know about Drake's drug addiction early on and had egged him on rather than brought it to an adult's attention. Someone could've intervened long ago before things had gotten so bad.

"I guess that just really discouraged me," Drake continue. "I felt like they never liked us for our music. They just wanted to see me ruin my life and they thought I was cool for it." He was quiet for a moment as he dragged his fork through the mashed potatoes in one direction, then he did this again perpendicular to the other three lines to make a grid. "Now they're all out of college and moving on to their dream jobs and I'm still here, struggling with the same problems and using up all my time fighting my addiction when I could be — I don't know — in college or starting a career or whatever. It's not cool anymore when you get older and you're the one that has to live with all the choices you've made."

Mrs. Hayfer felt pride when she heard him say that. It meant that he was learning a lesson. It was a hard lesson, but it showed progress. It showed growth.

"I'm not gonna pretend that I know what you're going through," she said, "but I have total and complete faith that you can overcome this addiction and rise above it." She placed her hand on his forearm so that he'd pay attention and he noticed their matching bracelets. "I believe in you."

The young man lifted his eyes to meet hers and his heart filled with warmth. He'd felt so numb since his relapse, but now he remembered why he had gotten clean in the first place. Why am I doing this again?

"Mrs. Hayfer?" his voice cracked.

She saw his eyes water over before he hung his head. Her brows furrowed with confusion and concern. "What's wrong, Drake?"

He wiped away the tears that started falling, but more followed. Guilt overwhelmed him. He sniffled again. "I..." It was always so hard to admit. "I started using again."

He couldn't see her, so he wasn't sure how she was reacting, but he assumed that she was pretty angry based on her silence. He rested his forehead on the palms of both hands as he continued to weep. Despite what he was thinking, she wasn't angry at all. In fact, she was happy that he was confiding in her. However, she wasn't sure what to say. She hadn't been able to help her son. How was she supposed to help Drake? Her heart ripped in half as she watched him. Back in her class in high school, he had acted like this happy-go-lucky kid and now, three years later, he was sitting at her dinner table broken, defeated and scared.

His voice came out octaves higher when he spoke again. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Drake, nothing is wrong with you." She scooted her chair closer, then pulled him against her and wrapped her arms around him like she used to do when a young Daniel had woken up screaming from night terrors. She repeated herself to drill this into his head. "Nothing is wrong with you."

"I can't stop," he said in between his sobs. "I wanna stop, but I can't."

---

"Hey," Alice greeted kindly as she closed the door behind Ricardo. "How was work?"

"Pretty hectic. I'm just glad I'm not working overnight. Saturdays are always busy."

"Are you hungry? I have some leftovers in the fridge."

"No, ma'am. Thank you, though. I had pizza from last night that I ate on break."

She led him to the living room, where he found his friend sitting on the couch.

"Hey, Drake." He started to notice that the young man's head was pointed towards the floor like it often was when he had something on his mind. "You okay?"

"Um," he said too quietly, then he raised his volume, but only slightly. "I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" He furrowed his brows with concern.

"I've been lying to you." He really hated himself right now, but Mrs. Hayfer was present and that made him feel like he had some support.

"About what?"

He hesitated. "I relapsed."

"Again?" It came out with a sad tone. He took a seat next to his friend on the couch, but Drake still wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Kinda."

"What does that mean, Drake?" he prodded with a soft, kind voice.

"I never really..." He sighed with disappointment. "I never really stopped using...once I started."

"When did you start?"

"A week ago," he admitted feebly. "That day I told you I saw Clementine."

Silence. Of course.

"I'm sorry." His voice cracked. He was crying again.

"You've been using everyday?" he asked, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together and make sense of everything.

Drake nodded.

"So when you went to work with me and made all these promises about getting clean...?"

"I got high in your office," he admitted with shame. "I'm sorry."

More silence.

"I'm sorry," he begged pathetically.

"I thought we promised to be honest with each other."

He hated that he couldn't think of anything to say other than, "I'm sorry."

"So where do we go from here, Drake?"

"I'll clean up for real this time."

"How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe anything you say?" He wasn't angry. He just genuinely didn't know how he could help if he was going to be lied to about everything.

The young man sniffled. He looked up at Mrs. Hayfer for guidance with the most pitiful, childlike expression she had ever seen.

The woman sat down on the edge of her recliner and turned her body towards the two boys. "Maybe you can agree to let him do random searches of your bag and your room," she suggested.

"Okay."

"What about when you take the pills before you get home?" Ricardo asked.

Drake gave it some thought. "When I get my grass-cutting money, you can deposit it into your bank account so I have to go through you to buy something and you'll always know if I'm telling the truth because they keep a list of how much was spent and where it was spent," he said, "and I'll keep all my receipts so you know I didn't buy cough medicine if I go to a store that sells it."

"I guess that'll work." He sighed. "I just hate that it's come to this."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm glad you told me now, though. I know the truth isn't always the easiest." He stood. "Are you ready to go home?"

The two told Alice goodbye, then got in the car and started down the street. They stayed silent for a long time other than Drake's constant sniffling. His brain was already trying to convince him of things that would only make matters worse and it was really hard to fight those thoughts right now.

"Please don't hate me," he begged.

"Look at me. I could never hate you, okay?"

"You're mad."

"I'm not mad. I'm just..."

"Disappointed."

"I just need time. I understand the relapse. It's just hard to forget because you lied to me." He turned the car onto their street.

"I'm sorry."

"Are you really dating someone or are you out getting high at the park or something?"

"I've been sleeping with someone, but it's just casual. Well, we're more than friends with benefits, but we're not putting a label on it. I just didn't tell you because I thought you would freak out about the age difference."

"How old is she?"

"Do you remember Hero from the mental hospital?"

He did because Drake had pointed her out to him during his second visit and Ricardo had listened to him gush about her for about ten minutes straight. "You're sleeping with her?"

"Yeah."

"Does she use drugs?"

"No. None," Drake said honestly.

"Does she know that you do?"

"She knows that I struggled with addiction before going to the mental hospital, but she doesn't know I've still been using."

"Is there anything else you've been lying about or hiding?" Ricardo didn't ask this in a bitter way. He was keeping calm, cool and collected because that would make Drake feel relaxed enough to open up.

The first thing that came to mind was how his relationship with Julio was, but he couldn't tell him that because the reason things were so rocky between them was due to Julio's growing alcoholism and their different stances on it. He couldn't tattle on his friend. That would only make things worse.

"Um, well, remember the morning after my birthday when you sat me down to discuss the relapse?" Drake started. He had something he needed to get off his chest. "Well, that was all true. I did talk to Dee and I told him everything and he said he wanted to try to work things out, but that's not why I used. I was using daily before then. I only said that to make you feel guilty so that you wouldn't blame me, but it's not your fault and I'm a complete dick for manipulating your emotions like that. I fucking suck. I'm sorry."

Ricardo was clearly hurt, but he had to keep reminding himself that drugs turned Drake into a different person. He truly believed addiction to be a disease despite the controversy. The symptoms are just different than other diseases because they include behavioral changes, which aren't the norm. Symptoms of addiction can include deception, thievery, prostitution even. It's not like Drake wanted to do those things. Sometimes it just felt like he had to.

"I appreciate the honesty." He said it almost like a robot — like it was something he had to say.

"It's okay to be mad at me," Drake said through his tears. "You have every right to be mad at me."

"What good is that gonna do, Drake? It's not gonna help anything." Ricardo pulled into the driveway, then turned off the vehicle, but he didn't get out.

"You don't have to bottle up your feelings for my sake. If you wanna yell at me, it's okay. I deserve it."

"I'm not gonna yell at you." This only made Drake feel worse.

"You've always done everything for me and I betrayed your trust and it upset you and you don't have to pretend it didn't. I always thought we were fine, but we're not. I appreciate you always being there, but I haven't been there for you."

Drake hadn't been there for Julio either. His friend had been right when he'd yelled at him in the hospital. Drake was constantly ruining his life and no one could get mad at him for it because of what his dad did to him. Ricardo refused to yell at him because he knew that it would give the boy flashbacks and that wasn't fair. After all the times Drake had poured his heart out to him, he shouldn't have to close himself off to make Drake feel better, especially when it was tearing Ricky apart inside.

"I'm not gonna fight with you."

"We don't have to fight."

"You just want me to lose my temper and scream at you because you think you deserve it — like you're trying to find a replacement for your dad or Dahlia or something — and I'm not gonna do it."

"I just don't want you to feel like you can't get mad at me. You're allowed to yell at me," the boy said. "It's okay. I can take it. Tell me off. I know you want to."

"And say what, Drake?!" Ricardo snapped. due to his friend's pestering. "That I'm pissed you relapsed? That I can't believe, after everything, you lied to me? That no matter how much I try to understand, I still don't understand? That I wish you would just be content with being sober? That I'm just so tired and frustrated and scared? That, for once, I would like to not have to worry about you? Is that what you wanna hear?"

Drake stayed silent as he watched Ricardo slide his fingers over the grooves on the keys in his lap. The man shook his head and chuckled harshly, then he sniffled. His friend could see water building up in his eyes. It wasn't often that Ricky cried. Drake could probably count on one hand how many times he had seen him shed a tear. He was always the strong one of the group and no one every checked on him. It was time for people to start checking on him.

"Drake-" His voice cracked, so he paused and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat before starting again. "Drake, I don't know what to do anymore. Nothing is working. Things just keep getting worse and worse and every time you relapse, you get closer and closer to dying. I can't. Handle. Losing you. You mean too much to me. I just don't know how I'm supposed to help you, especially when you're not doing anything to help yourself."

Drake didn't have anything to say. He didn't ask Ricardo to be honest with him so that he could reply or explain or apologize. He asked to listen. When his friend was done, the young man leaned towards him and wrapped his arms around him. Ricky hugged back. They stayed like this for a long time, the only sound between them being their occasional sniffles. Drake was first to break the silence.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" he promised. "I'm not going anywhere anymore."

For the first time in his life, his voice displayed confidence and this is the first time Ricardo had ever actually believed that everything was going to be okay. Drake had made these promises thousands of times before and he'd always meant them at the time. There was something different about the way he said it now, though. He was done being this person. He was done hurting his friends. He was done hurting himself.

Ricardo held on tighter as his tears finally started to fall. "Okay."

---

Author's Note: First, I wanna start off by thanking the guest who reviewed last chapter. Thanks for taking the time to respond. I actually never even thought about what you said with Drake and Theo's friendship centering around more serious topics even though both Rhinestone and Ricardo have suffered from sexual abuse as well, but your prediction was right. I like to write a couple chapters ahead before I post things and the Theo scenes have involved heavy topics, although not exclusively, and I didn't even realize it or mean to do it, but it totally makes sense. Also, the fact that you even remembered that Ricky and Rhinestone suffered from sexual abuse blows my mind, unless I mentioned it last chapter or something and forgot. Because that's stuff from Charlie Horse and even as far back as Charlie Freak, which I started about five years ago.

So what did you guys think of Hero? Weird? Cute? Love it? Hate it? That boy has mommy issues fr, though, but that's cool. And fucking Clem's back. Bleh. I just feel like she wasn't gonna let Drake off his leash that easily. Since Drake's in this Rent play, I'm not really sure how much detail about it I'll go into. I'll try to explain it as much as possible in as few words as possible because I know that stuff gets tedious to read, but I would totally recommend watching Rent: Filmed Live On Broadway or even just the movie Rent because it's super meaningful and also it'll give you more insight as to what Drake's doing if you actually care that much about that.

Also, I'm not fluent in Spanish at all, so if y'all catch any mistakes with that, lemme know. I usually use Google Translate (which can be so inaccurate) and then have my Spanish-speaking friend go over it. Hopefully, everything sounds and flows like a normal conversation, but lemme know if not.

The songs used in this chapter are Seasons Of Love by the cast of Rent and Rad Drugz by Missio in case anyone cares about that kinda stuff.

COMING UP ON SORRY, CHARLIE: Basically, we're gonna focus on what's been going on with Julio in the next chapter, which I'm excited for. Finally, Julio gets his time to shine. I feel like I haven't utilized Julio's character anywhere near as much as I wanted. He was supposed to be a big character in the first story, but then I created Ricardo and hardly wrote for Julio at all. Now he's a main character and still hardly gets his own moments, so I'm pumped for that.

Like always, please review. I only got one last chapter, so I'm not sure if that meant that chapter about the mental hospital wasn't well-liked or are things going in some weird direction? Lemme know. Also, I know I said Kenzly was returning forever ago, but I'm for real this time. She's definitely making an appearance in an upcoming chapter because I literally just wrote it, so I'm a hundred percent sure this time. Lemme know if there's anything else you guys wanna see. I literally have no idea how this story's gonna end. The first two stories had eighteen and twenty chapters and this is the twelfth chapter for this story. Plus, I've already written chapters thirteen and fourteen and part of fifteen and I have no ending direction at all. This could potentially be the end of the series just because I can't think of anymore titles using the name Charlie. Ha ha. It might not be because I'm having a really hard time letting this story go, but let's pretend it is the end. Is there anything you wanna see happen that I might not be thinking about? Anyway, blah, blah, blah. All I do it ramble. Please review. CCC ya!