2:01. It was 2:01 a.m. and he was still sitting here boo-hooing about not having any drugs in his body to put him to sleep. He had tried everything: playing soft music, reading until his eyes burned, counting sheep, attempting to clear his mind, jerking off, taking NyQuil — the recommended dose, mind you — and nothing was working. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Charlie and he knew that tonight wouldn't be the end of it. This same process would repeat itself tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. When he'd first gotten sober three years ago, he'd cried every night for a month straight. He spent a lot of nights in Ricardo's bed and vice versa. Ricky had offered to bunk with him tonight, but Drake had declined. He wanted to do this himself this time. If he cleaned up all on his own, maybe he'd think twice before relapsing next time. Maybe he'd take pride in himself knowing that he had been strong enough to do something good for a change.
However, this was only night one and he was already struggling. Macaulay was asleep on his lap and Agent Jack Bauer was circling him, switching between wanting to be petted and wanting to be played with roughly. Drake wasn't in the mood for either, but he half-assed it because the last thing he needed was to feel like he'd disappointed a fucking cat. He thought about tip-toeing down the hallway and sneaking into Ricardo's room to take him up on that offer. He was so desperate for fucking sleep. He hadn't slept well — if at all — since he'd started using a week ago.
Drake cursed as he picked up Macaulay, waking her, and moved her out of his lap. He stood, then slipped on a long-sleeved sweater and his tennis shoes. He made his way downstairs as quietly as possible. Slowly, he turned the lock and twisted the knob to open the door, then he stepped outside. It was sticky and warm and mosquitoes and moths were everywhere, so despite how sweaty the temperature and humidity made him, he had to keep every inch of his body covered so that he wouldn't get bitten. Growing up, he would always get eaten up by mosquitoes every time he stepped outside. His mother had always said it was because he was so sweet. He wondered what his mom was doing now and if she'd still think that about him. He doubted it.
As the young man picked up his pack of cigarettes and lit one, he thought about how ashamed his family had been of him and he pondered how much greater that shame would be if they knew even just half the things he had done since he'd left. If they could see him now, they'd feel that the decision to kick him out was validated. Still, after all this fucking time, he was just as hopelessly addicted to those stupid fucking red pills as he was three years ago.
Nothing was changing. He wasn't changing. He was wasting everyone's time and energy. He was wasting poor Ricardo's time and energy. He pondered where the man would've been in life had he not had to deal with Drake and his stupid fucking problems. And fucking Julio. Three and a half years ago, he had refused to drink with Drake at a party. Now he was an alcoholic. Sure, it wasn't all Drake's fault. The boy struggled with his own depression and anxiety issues, but the drug addict's bullshit sure didn't help. Everyone would be better off without him.
With that thought, Drake pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his heels against the edge of his chair. He choked out a sob and rested his head against the side of his hand tiredly like he had a headache. He knew he needed to stop thinking like this, but that was impossible without Charlie. This is who he was when he wasn't high. He was depressed and nervous and he laid in bed all day obsessing over every single bad thing he could think of and it felt so impossible to stop.
As his crying picked up, he grabbed a fistful of his own hair and squeezed because any physical pain would've been better than the emotional torture he was suffering through. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his heels. He couldn't even breathe in through his nose anymore because it was so stopped up, so he wiped the snot and tears away on the sleeve of his sweater.
Things never got any better that night. He stayed outside until he chain-smoked that entire pack of cigarettes and, even then, he remained in that chair sobbing. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but at some point, he had cried himself to sleep and he didn't even realize it until Ricardo woke him up around 7:30 the next morning.
"You alright?" He asked with concern. There was also relief in his voice, only because he had checked Drake's bedroom to find it empty and he'd thought that the boy had once again disappeared to get high.
Drake looked at his surroundings until he remembered where and why he was, then he turned towards his friend. "Yeah."
Ricardo could see how red and wet the young man's eyes still were. "Hard night?"
There was no use denying it. "Yeah."
"I'm sorry. You could've woken me up or laid down in my room."
"I know." He reached for his pack of cigarettes and found it to be empty. "Shit," he whispered to himself.
"You've got another pack on your dresser, right?"
"Yeah."
"I can get them for you."
"No, that's okay. I'll get 'em." He planted his feet on the porch's concrete floor and stood. His bones audibly popped and he ached all over. He was itching all over, too. Even with the shoes and his pajama pants and his sweater, he could still tell that the mosquitoes had somehow magically bit into his legs and arms. He hated fucking summer.
The young man slowly and stiffly ascended the staircase and retrieved his cigarettes and phone from his bedroom. He made a quick detour to the bathroom and relieved himself, then washed his hands and brushed his teeth before going back outside for a smoke.
The sky was that soft bluish-gray color it usually was when the sun was beginning to rise. It reminded him of school and waiting at the bus stop. He was always so tired right after he woke up, so he never talked to his friends in the morning. Instead, he'd put his earbuds in and listen to music. Back then, it was some emo punk rock stuff like Good Charlotte or Green Day or something, but now he preferred something more relaxing. He picked up his phone and searched through his YouTube playlist for something soft. He chose Sigur Rós' "Svefn-g-englar," which he'd heard when he'd watched Beautiful Boy. The light sounds filled his ears and when a voice began singing, he actually felt relaxed.
After his shower, Drake went downstairs to find that Ricardo had breakfast ready. He still wasn't quite fully recovered from the numbing effects that the Triple C's had on him, but he was desperate to taste something, so he didn't mind eating despite not really caring to.
"Julio's got classes all day, so it's just gonna be me and you today."
Sadly, this was a relief. "Did you tell him?" He was asking if they had talked about his latest relapse and if Julio had admitted to already knowing about it.
"Yeah, I talked to him last night. He supports you, like always."
If only that were true...
"So anyway, I thought we could do something together today. We can do movies or something here or go out somewhere."
"I'd rather stay home."
"I figured. Are you up for movie marathons and Netflix binges today?"
Part of him was. He missed times like this that he used to share with Ricardo. However, part of him just wanted to isolate himself in his room and succumb to his misery.
He decided that agreeing to Ricardo's plans would be best for everybody. "Yeah."
"What the fuck did I just watch?" Ricardo asked when the movie ended.
They'd put in Climax and it had turned out to be nothing like the man had expected. It started out with a lot of dancing, then there was a lot of talking in mostly French, then there was a lot of screaming. Drake had informed him he'd seen a review of the film that had described it as "brilliantly deranged." The deranged part made complete sense, but the brilliant part?
"That was fucking dope," the younger of the two said. "Thanks for getting it for me."
Just like in the other DVD he'd bought for Drake, there was an attempted rape scene. Upon seeing it, Ricardo was internally kicking himself. How could two out of the three movies he'd gifted to his friend for his birthday include sexual assault? Who knows? Maybe the third one does, too, though it seemed unlikely because it was about a man being alone with a robot on the moon as far as he knew. Still, High Life was supposed to be about a father and daughter in outer space and Climax was supposed to be a flick about a bad acid trip. However, as long as Drake liked them, then it was okay, he supposed.
"You actually liked that?"
"You didn't?" This seemed to confuse the young man. "Oh... Well, I guess I can see how it might not appeal to some people."
"It was just hard to watch," he said. "And it was based on a true story?"
"Loosely based."
The man scooted up towards the edge of the couch and browsed through the DVD cases strewn on top of the coffee table. "Look, I'm picking the next one, okay?" After a minute, he showed one to Drake. "This is the one Sawyer got you?" Whiplash.
"Yeah."
"Does he have good taste?"
"He likes Rocky Horror."
Ricardo liked that one, too. "Alright, I guess I'll give this one a shot."
"I'll put it in. I need to get something to drink." His mouth felt dry and his stomach still felt hollow despite his breakfast. Drake got up and took the Climax disc out of the PlayStation 4 and exchanged it with Whiplash. "You want anything?" he asked as he put the movie back in its case.
"A water, please."
The young man disappeared for a couple minutes before returning with a bottle of water and a glass of apple juice.
"Thanks," Ricardo said, then he started the movie.
"Did you like that one?" Drake asked when the end credits rolled.
"It was pretty good. Better than the last one for sure. Did you like it?"
"I loved it. It kinda similar to Aronofsky's Black Swan in a way." Aronofsky: Drake's favorite director who directed his favorite movie Requiem For A Dream.
"Have I seen that one?"
"If you can't remember whether or not you've seen it, then you haven't seen it."
"I'm getting kinda hungry," Ricardo said right as his phone began to ring. "Are you about ready for lunch?" He picked up his cell phone from the pile of movies on the coffee table and he felt his heart skip a beat when he saw who was calling: Dee.
Drake saw this, too. He was wondering when Dee would call. He'd probably been waiting for a time when he wasn't busy with work or rehearsals.
"Hey," Ricardo said, then a bit too eagerly, "No, I'm not at work... I'm-I'm doing alright. How are you?... Yeah, I know how that is... Yeah?..." His voice came out much softer and he sounded vulnerable when he admitted, "...I miss you, too... Yeah, me, too... O-okay, yeah, I'd like that. When?... Oh, today?"
Drake could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was obvious that Dee had asked if the two could meet up. Ricardo was troubled by this and the young man knew it was because of his recent relapse. Ricky didn't want to leave him alone when he was just beginning the process of recovery. He'd already made plans to watch movies with him all day. This was the kind of behavior that had led to their break-up in the first place.
"It's okay," Drake whispered. "Go."
Ricardo looked at him and covered the speaker with his hand. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Go!"
He hesitated to contemplate this further, but he gave in. "Okay, yeah," he said to his ex-boyfriend. "Can we push it back a little, though? Like at five?... Okay. Okay, great! ...Yeah, I'll see you then. ...Okay. ...Okay. ...Bye."
Drake was smiling when the man hung up, but it wasn't nearly as big as Ricardo's wide grin.
"We're gonna get dinner and talk about things."
"That's good!"
"Yeah." He couldn't stop smiling even a little and he hated it.
"I'm really happy for you!" After a moment, Drake pulled his friend into a quick hug.
"Thanks for talking to him. I know I was asking for a lot from you—"
"It's okay." He pulled away and met his eyes. "It was worth it. And if my bullshit comes up, you can tell him everything. It's okay with me."
"Are you sure you trust him?"
"You trust him," Drake said, "and I trust you."
Ricardo took in a breath and let it go and his eyes glinted with appreciation. "Thanks for all this."
"Hey, it's whatever. You better not fuck this up, though."
This made the man laugh.
Drake realized that Ricardo had pushed the time of his and Dee's dinner back a bit so that Julio could stay with the boy. Ha, as if Julio would even bother to stop him if he tried to use. The young man was determined to clean up and stay that way this time, though, so Julio or no Julio, he was staying sober.
"Is this too much?" the older Santos brother asked with little confidence.
"No, dude. You look great," Drake said reassuringly.
Ricardo let go of his breath slowly as he examined his reflection. "I just need to chill."
"Absolutely."
"Okay. It's all gonna go fine," he told himself.
"Right," said Drake, "but look, I've been thinking about this."
At the sound of his sudden serious demeanor, Ricardo turned away from the mirror and looked at him with curious, furrowed brows.
"Even if things go well tonight, they're just gonna get messed up again if you and I don't make some changes in our own relationship."
His forehead crinkled even more. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I mean..." What did he mean? "It's like, if you spend too much of your time worrying about me for whatever reason — even though he knows why you do it — it's still gonna push him away, you know, and that's gonna make him feel guilty because I'm just, like, one big sob story. Therefore, he might feel like he isn't allowed to ask for your attention because the last time he did, I was in the process of trying to kill myself and, if he can't talk to you about it and he can't leave without feeling guilty, he's gonna start to resent you for it."
"Wow, you have thought about this," the man said. "So what, I'm just supposed to pretend I don't care?"
"No. No, not at all. Of course you care. You just can't let it consume you again."
"But if you do relapse—"
"I won't." Just like he did last night, he had that same confidence in his voice.
"But if you do?"
Drake enunciated his words so that they would stick in the man's head. "I won't," he vowed. "If I start to feel like I'm losing control, I know now that there are other people who care enough about me to try to stop me. There's Mrs. Hayfer. There's Sam and Brett. There's Gemini and Rhinestone and Sawyer. There's Julio." That one felt forced. "There's Hero and Theo. They've all got my back, but I'm gonna try really hard to rely on myself more. I need to learn how to beat this on my own, but if I do feel like I'm not strong enough, I have so many other people around me who are willing to be strong for me."
This made the corners of Ricardo's lips turn upwards in a smile. He hugged his friend.
"I can't fix what I've done, but I can stop breaking things even more. I'm done with drugs. I'm done with Charlie. For good. I promise."
"I'm so fucking proud of you."
For the first time in a long time, Drake felt proud of himself, too.
"-and since Zach and I are on opposite work schedules, we don't really have a lot of time to spend together. When I get off work, it's almost time for him to go into work. We hardly get to see each other."
Drake and Rhinestone hadn't spoken in a while due to all the things that had been going on lately in Drake's life and they were close to hitting their two-hour mark on this phone conversation.
"So I've been masturbating a lot. Like, a lot a lot." Rhinestone was always so open about everything that things like this didn't even faze Drake anymore. "And then when Zach comes in from work and wants to have sex, I don't really wanna do it and that's been coming between us, so I said I'd stop and I have, but now — remember when I told you about about those cysts on my balls?"
"I remember."
"Well, I went to the doctor and they told me they could remove the cysts, but they'll just grow back." Rhinestone had already told him this before. He tended to do a lot of repeating, but it's probably because he talked so much that he could never remember what he said and who he said it to. "And there's, like, fifty of them and it gets worse in the summer because it's hot and they bust open and pus comes out and they hurt, then they get scabs all over, but they never heal because I can't stop picking them."
Drake genuinely felt bad for Rhinestone because that sounded like absolute hell.
"So when it's like that, I feel ugly, you know? I just wanna be left alone. He says he doesn't mind, but I do. I don't want anyone putting there mouth down there or anything else, so we haven't been fucking and he thinks it's because I've been masturbating while he's at work. He even put a camera in the garage."
"Jesus, he's seriously trying to catch you masturbating?"
"Yes!" He laughed, feeling validated that the boy was understanding his side.
Drake thought this was completely insane and unhealthy, but then again, those two words basically described his entire relationship with Dahlia. "Why in the garage, though?"
"I guess he thought I was jerking off when I go out to smoke."
The young man laughed. "That is just fucking...I don't even know."
"Right?!"
"Shit."
"He was just like, 'well, when I-"
THUMP! BUMP! THUMP! SLAM! BAM!
"Shit, bruh, lemme call you back!" Drake didn't even wait for a response before he hung up and tossed his phone to the side. He hopped out of bed and yanked his door open, then he bolted down the staircase that led to the kitchen. When he turned the corner that was halfway down, he found Julio on the tile floor. "Jesus, dude! Did you fall down the fucking stairs?!" He got on his knees next to him. "Are you okay?!"
When he reached out to check for injuries, Julio roughly shoved his arm away. "Jus'fuckoff," he slurred.
"Bro, you're bleeding!" his friend exclaimed when he saw blood pooling up on the floor where his head was. Again, he tried to help and again, he was pushed. This time, it was hard enough to knock him on his ass.
"Fuckinleave MEALONE!"
"What the fuck?!" His nostrils filled with the scent of whiskey. "Bruh, how much have you had to drink?"
The only response he got was a low growl that Julio made as he forced himself onto his hands and knees. When Drake tried to offer his assistance again, he smacked his hand awake. "Getaway fromme!"
Drake could feel it bubbling inside of him. He felt the warmth in his eyes as they glazed over with saltwater and nightmares from his past. He couldn't let them take over, though. Not now. He tried to blink away the blurriness, but that didn't help, so he swiftly wiped his eyes and sniffled. Julio had managed to get onto his feet by the time the boy's vision cleared up. He stood, too, and it was just in time to catch his intoxicated friend before he took another spill. He managed to steady Julio, then he was immediately shoved against the wall with his shirt balled up in the boy's fists.
"Touchmeagainand IswearI'll FUCKINKILLYOU!"
Drake was trembling now. He was actually, genuinely terrified. His tears finally managed to fall down his cheeks. "Julio...?" he choked out, his voice dripping with confusion, hurt and betrayal.
He growled through his clenched teeth once again before letting the scared young man go, then he stumbled towards the entrance to the foyer, using the wall as support. This did little to aid him against his spinning vision and he, once again, found himself on the floor.
Once Brett was finished wiping away all of the blood that had streamed down to Julio's neck, he placed a bandage over the cut on his temple. It was surprisingly not as long or as deep as expected and there wasn't too much swelling. As he did this, his girlfriend pulled her hand away from his shoulder and turned towards Drake, who was leaning against the computer desk in the Santos boy's room. He was still weeping slightly and he hugged himself with one arm and had the other positioned so that he could bite his thumbnail.
She made her way over to him. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." It wasn't convincing, so he let his arms drop to his side and tried again. "Yeah."
Brett joined the two. He pulled out the rolling chair and sat in it backwards. "What happened?"
"I was in my room and I heard this loud noise and I found him at the bottom of the staircase." He couldn't meet either of their eyes. Instead, he looked down at the carpet, reliving the tragic events. "I tried to help him up, but he kept pushing me away and then he slung me against the wall and threatened to kill me."
"You know he'd never do that," Samantha said. "He didn't know what he was saying."
"He hates me."
"He doesn't hate you." She put her hand on his bicep.
"Yes, he does. He told me."
"When? Today?" Brett asked.
"No, back when I was in the hospital. He told me he hated me...and that I ruined his life." He choked out a sob and lifted the bottom of his palms to cover his eyes.
"It's okay," Sam soothed. She pulled him into a hug.
He didn't hug back, but he rested his head on her shoulder. His voice came out octaves higher when he said, "He's just like him."
He didn't need to specify who the "him" he was referring to was. They already knew. Martin Parker.
Drake was sitting on Julio's bed with his knees to his chest. He hadn't wanted to leave him alone in case something happened. He'd been crying in waves since Samantha and Brett had left. Everything that had transpired earlier left him desperate for Charlie's help. If he just swallowed those pills, all of this mental pain would be gone. However, he refused to give in. He didn't want to let Ricardo down. This was just such a bad fucking time to get sober.
It was nighttime, so when he saw lights shine through the window and across the walls of Julio's bedroom, he knew that Ricardo was back home. It was almost eleven. He and Dee must've had a lot to talk about.
Drake stood and left the room, closing the door behind him. He sniffled and wiped his eyes, but there was no hiding that he'd been crying. He made his way downstairs just as the front door opened and he took a seat on one of the steps.
"Hey." Ricardo's smile fell. "What's wrong?"
"I'm okay. Just fighting a craving." He didn't tell him about Julio because he felt like it was something Julio should tell him. "How was it?"
"It was good." He brushed off the question and instead went back to the drug conversation. "You wanna talk about it?" He sat down next to the boy.
"Not really. Did you two work things out?"
"Yeah, we did."
"So you're back together?"
"Yeah, but we're taking things slower this time. The whole time we were together, we never even went out on an actual date or anything, so we're supposed to have our first official date Wednesday."
"Nice." Drake sniffled and his friend turned his head towards him. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks had pink streaks crossing over them where the tears had stained them.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah."
"You wanna sleep in my room tonight?"
"No. I wanna try to do this on my own first."
"Okay. Well, my door's always open."
"I know. Thank you."
Ricardo stood and the boy followed. "Where's Julio?"
"He's asleep."
"I'm pretty exhausted myself. I'm about ready to pass out."
"I'm gonna lay down, too. Goodnight," Drake said. He went into his room and when he heard Ricky close his own bedroom door, he slipped back out and crept into Julio's room. This is where he was sleeping tonight...if he was even going to be able to sleep at all.
Drake managed to finally doze off hours later and he slept for about six hours, which was the longest he had slept in over a week. What woke him was the sound of Julio barfing. Luckily, he made the trash can that his friend had placed next to his bed. Drake curled up his back and stretched his muscles, then he straightened his legs out to stretch those. He always had to be careful with his legs, though, because he was prone to getting cramps in his calves when he did this.
The young man pushed himself out of bed and grabbed the bottle off Advil he had left on the floor next to him. He poured three onto his palm, then picked up his bottle of water, which was half empty. When it sounded like Julio was done throwing up, he held out the pills. "Here."
The hungover young man turned his body towards him quickly, for he hadn't noticed Drake's presence earlier. "Why the fuck are you in my room?" he groaned.
He left the question unanswered and moved his hand closer. Finally, Julio took the pills and tossed them in his mouth, but instead of accepting the water, he turned away and reached under his bed to retrieve a bottle that only had about a fourth of whiskey left. He turned it over his lips to swallow down the Advil, but then he kept drinking.
"Dude..."
Julio screwed the cap back onto the bottle. "Just leave me alone."
The young man just sat there with his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked down at his lap and stared at the yellow and black plaid pattern on his pajama pants. His was overcome by guilt as he thought about everything that had happened over the last six months and how all the chaos had taken a toll on Julio. He had put his friend in a constant state of worry. Every second he had spent away from him had made the boy obsess over the idea that maybe he'd never get to see him again. Living such a dangerous and risky lifestyle could mean death at any time. Julio had spent so much time wondering if his most recent conversation with Drake would be the last one he'd ever get to have with him. Drake knew what it was life to mourn a loved one who had passed, like Meelah and Martin, but he had no idea how it felt to mourn someone who was still alive.
Finally, he broke the tense silence. "I'm sorry I've been such a selfish, piece of shit friend. I never meant to ruin your life."
The sound of his voice gave Julio a headache, but it probably just had a lot to do with the hangover. "Why are you even here? Just get out."
"I'm worried about you."
"Wow, you're actually thinking about someone else for once in your life?" His venomous voice was dripping with bitterness.
His friend took it like a punch to the gut. "You really scared me yesterday."
If Julio were being honest, he didn't even remember yesterday.
Drake twiddled his thumbs nervously. "Your drinking's gotten pretty bad."
"And this is coming from you of all people."
"I told Ricardo about my relapse and I've cleaned up again."
The boy only let out a harsh chuckle. "Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts. You'll be right back out there sucking that gym coach's dick in no time."
This made Drake tear up, his eyes hot with shame.
"Who the fuck are you to tell me when I'm drinking too much?"
"I'm your best friend."
"Ha! Yeah, right."
"Going down this road is such a bad idea. Do you wanna end up being the kind of person my dad was?"
This struck a nerve in Julio. "Get out."
"I just wanna-"
"I swear to God, Drake! Get out or I'll fucking—"
"What?" the boy interrupted, his voice losing its softness. "You'll kill me?"
Those words surprised Julio. He wasn't that person at all. He wasn't anything like Martin Parker. No matter how enraged he got, he didn't have a single murderous bone in his body. "Why would you even say that?"
"Because that's what you said to me when you threw me against the wall last night."
He was taken aback by this news and, honestly, it scared him, but he wasn't going to let Drake know that. "If you're not gonna leave, then I guess I will." He started to stand, but became light-headed, so he dizzily sat back down.
"Whatever, I'll go." His friend got up. "Wouldn't want you to fall down fucking stairs again."
At the mention of this, Julio suddenly took notice to the sharp pain on the side of his head. He waited until Drake was gone before getting up again. He steadied himself, then went over to his dresser and examined his reflection in the mirror. He had two white bandage strips over a cut on his temple. His face was cleaned up, but there was still a bit of blood on the collar of his shirt.
Ricardo tapped incredibly softly on the wood because he didn't expect Drake to be awake yet. He was surprised when he got a response.
"Yeah?"
He pushed the door open and found the boy leaning back against the headboard of his bed. He was surrounded by his kittens and had a thick book in his hand.
"You're reading again," he noticed. This was a promising sign that he was, in fact, still sober.
"Yeah."
"Did you sleep at all?"
"I did actually. Why, do I still look like shit?"
"Just a little." He chuckled after Drake did. He'd missed that sound. "Hey, I'm gonna head out early to run some errands before work. I get off at six and I was just gonna pick up Wendy's for dinner because I've been craving a frosty. What do you want?
"A baconator."
"The combo?"
"Yeah. And some chicky nugs." He hadn't had much food over the past week, so like with his sleeping, he had a lot of eating to catch up on. He started to reach towards his nightstand to retrieve his wallet, but Ricardo stopped him.
"I got it. You get the next one."
"Okay."
"Oh, so like, my brother is mad grumpy this morning. He wouldn't tell me what he wanted, so when he mellows out later, can you ask him what he wants and text it to me?"
"Sure," but he doubted that he could get an answer out of him if Ricky couldn't.
"Alright, I'm leaving."
After he was gone, Drake got back to his book, but it wasn't long before his phone rang. He picked it up. Rhinestone.
"Hey."
"What the hell? You never called me back."
"Shit, I'm sorry. I totally forgot."
He made a noise like a scoff, but it was a joke and he made it obvious. "Gee, thanks."
"I just had a lot going on for a second."
"Where'd you go?"
"Julio fell and hit his head and then Brett and Sam came over for a while, then Ricky got back from his dinner with Dee."
"How'd that go? Did they work things out?"
"Yeah."
"Aw, that's great. I'm happy for him," he said, "because Dee's fine as hell."
Before he could go on asking more questions about Drake's life or about Julio falling, the young man said, "So where'd we leave off yesterday? You were talking about your balls?"
"Ugh! Yes! Oh my God, so-"
And just like that, they carried on with their mostly one-sided conversation, but he didn't mind that. He liked hearing Rhinestone's crazy stories, although it did get a little annoying when he started repeating things, like now for instance. He was giving Drake a recap of what he'd said yesterday, but the recap was basically the same exact story that took the same about of time to tell. Maybe Rhinestone wasn't used to having someone who listened, but his friend listened. Despite the things that had happened in the past, he truly loved Rhinestone. Drake had been the one who had reached out to reconnect after all. Maybe having a good listener wasn't it at all. Maybe Rhinestone was just desperate to share all of his thoughts and feelings and every little piece of his day because he needed to feel like it wasn't all for nothing. He needed to feel like he had people he could share it with — people who cared to know every personal detail. Drake could understand that. In a world where you are only what you post on social media — in Drake's case: almost nothing — being truly understood by someone was the most precious, valuable thing ever.
Drake sighed as he looked at the mess around him. He was putting together the bookshelf Mrs. Hayfer had gotten for him on his birthday and there were screws and bolts and planks of wood everywhere. It looked disorganized, but he knew exactly where everything was when he needed it. He actually enjoyed doing stuff like this. It was pretty calming in a way other than the pain that his back was in from all the hunching over. Also, he couldn't stop thinking about how much more fun this would've been if Charlie were here. He'd just sit there with extreme focus, blasting his music and struggling for twenty minutes to twist in one screw, but with zero cares.
He pushed himself out of the floor. He needed to take a break, get some water, smoke a cigarette — whatever. He just needed a change in scenery. He opened his bedroom door slowly because he wanted to make sure the cats weren't waiting in the hallway. He didn't want them in his room until all the nuts and bolts and such were where they should be. When he saw that he was in the clear, he stepped out and closed the door behind himself, then headed downstairs and went over to the refrigerator. Drake grabbed a bottle of water and drank thirstily. Finally, the effects from the Triple C's were gone and he could feel it hitting his stomach. He did miss the numbness, though.
He was there for about a minute or two before he heard more footsteps coming down the stairs. Julio. Once he was in sight, it was obvious that he was drunk. When he saw Drake, he rolled his eyes. He hated him so much that this was an involuntary reaction anytime he saw him.
Drake noticed that his friend didn't stop for food, which meant he hadn't come downstairs due to hunger. He then noticed that Julio had on his shoes. "Where are you going?"
The boy ignored him as he approached the island. Drake saw him eyeing his keys, so just as his intoxicated friend reached for them, he swiftly snatched them up.
"What the fuck? You can't drive right now."
"Gimmethefuckinkeys."
"Jesus, Julio, what-"
"Gimmethekeys."
"-the fuck is wrong-"
"GIVE ME THE GODDAMN KEYS!" He slammed his fists against the counter-top.
Drake instinctively flinched, then took a step back. His friend had rage in his eyes and it frightened him. An image of his father, with bloody knuckles and fire in his eyes, popped into his head, but he pushed it away. Now was not the time for that.
"Drake, give me thefuckinkeys!" He made his way around the island so that he could get them himself, but Drake mimicked him so that they had something in between them.
"What are you thinking? You can't drink and drive."
"Stop trying to tell me what I can and can't do! If I needed advice from a high school drop-out turned junkie turned prostitute, I'd ask you!" He always seemed to know what buttons to push to weaken Drake.
"Why are you doing this?" the young man begged. He knew exactly why, though. He'd seen the bottle upstairs and it had almost been out of whiskey. It probably was now and Julio needed more to keep the sickness off.
"Jus' gimmethekeys!"
"No."
"NOW!"
"No!" He wished Ricardo was here because Julio looked like he wanted to kill him.
"Why d'ya have ta keep interfering IN MY LIFE?!"
"Because I give a fuck about you!" he yelled back. "Jesus, what are you doing? This isn't you."
"Youdon' knowwhat yerfuckin' talkin' about."
"Of course I do. I've been where you are."
"Exactly. I'vesaidthose exactwordstoyou. Ricardo'ssaidthose exactwords. Yourparents, yoursiblings, Meelah..."
That one stung.
"We allbeggedyouto stop using, butdidyouever listen? No. D'you reallythink I'm gonnastandhereand listentosomeonewho refusesto acknowledge thatfor 'emself?" He lifted his eyebrow as if waiting for Drake to answer him, then he shook his head. "No. How'sitfeel beingon theothersideofthis now — watchingsomeoneyoulove fuckuphisown life and not being able todoshit aboutit?"
Drake had no words because he was absolutely right and this filled him with guilt. Julio began making his way around the island now, but he never took his cold eyes off of his friend's wet ones.
"Iwasstandin' rightwhereyouare...once," he drunkenly continued, "an'youwere stan'in' right here before. Youofall people should know thatyou can't doanythin' tostop me, sojus'stoptrying 'causeit'sreallystartinto piss me off an' gimmethose fuckin'keys, alright?"
It was like looking into a mirror almost. Julio was right about everything he'd said and Drake's said a lot worse shit than that before when someone had tried to stand in between himself and Charlie. The only difference was that, until Ricardo had finally gotten involved, no one had been willing to put their time, energy and life on the line to pry those fucking keys out of Drake's hand. Unfortunately for Julio, Drake was the son of Martin Parker. He knew how to clench a tight fist. He. Was. Not. Giving up those keys.
"Over my dead body."
Julio's frustration came out when he screamed through gritted teeth. In a flash, he lunged for Drake and knocked him onto the floor with just one powerful punch to the jaw. He unleashed his fury on him, ignoring every protest. The boy's puny attempts at blocking his face were inefficient. He didn't punch back. He rarely punched back in times like these. Maybe that was something else he'd learned from his father. Stop. Drop. Roll. That's what you're supposed to do during a fire. Julio was a fire — small, but growing more and more as each day passed. Martin had been a giant, raging mass of hot flames. When the flames are right on top of you, burning your skin and boiling your blood, do you know how useless stopping, dropping and rolling is? When you're on fire and there's fire all around you, you're just gonna roll into more fire. Even still, that's what Drake always did. Stop. Stop back-talking or disobeying or doing whatever it was that had pissed his attacker off. Drop. Drop to the floor because the faster you get there, the faster your punishment will be over. Roll. Roll into a ball and shield yourself from as much damage as possible.
Stop.
Drop.
Roll.
Julio gave him one last punch, this one so hard that he had to place his hands on the kitchen floor to catch himself before completely falling on top of him. Drake's face was splotched with the redness of forming bruises and he had a few cuts that crimson liquid was oozing out of. His nose and lips were busted and when he winced in pain, he showed his teeth, which were outlined with blood. He let out a sob and blood splattered from his mouth and onto his chin. More sobs followed.
Still, when Julio tried to pry his fingers lose, he wouldn't give in. He squeezed so tightly that his nails and even the keys sliced open his skin, causing his palm to bleed.
"Gimme the keys!"
With his free hand, Drake reached back, trying to grab hold of whatever was nearby so that he could drag himself away. He clasped his fingers around the first thing he could — the leg of a stool — but it fell over when he pulled on it. "Fuck..." he choked out and more blood sprayed from his mouth. He thought he may have bit his tongue or something during the beating, but he was hurting so much all over his face that he couldn't actually differentiate whether or not this was true. However, he had so much blood in his mouth that he almost choked on it. When he coughed, it came out and landed on his cheek.
"Gimme the keys!" Julio furiously kicked the stool that was in the floor as if to warn Drake of what was to come if he didn't obey him.
Drake flinched, but he didn't give in. He fearfully gazed up at his friend, but his vision was invaded by black spots. He was going to pass out.
He saw the tennis shoe coming for him before it made a connection, so he had time to warn his body to cower away, but he still wasn't quick enough. "Aaahh-ha!" He was on his side now and more sobs left him. It became clear to him that Julio wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. "Guh!" he growled through clenched teeth and he rolled onto his stomach. He mustered up his strength and lifted up his torso, then his lower half soon followed and he was on his knees. Almost there.
Just before he could move any further, Julio stomped his foot down against Drake's lower back, flattening him against the tile floor again. "Let go OFTHEKEYS!"
The young man was audibly crying from deep within himself. This felt all too familiar. The tile floor beneath him disappeared and was replaced with the hard, cold concrete flooring in his father's basement. The kitchen light was gone and only a single light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling lit the room.
"No..." he begged. He was overcome with so much terror that he could feel his heartbeat in his fingers. His hands trembled and his breath quivered.
Julio mistook the boy's no as an answer to his command. "GODDAMN IT, DRAKE!"
There it was to complete the nightmare: Martin's monstrous voice. He felt completely paralyzed and a sob left him as the shoe pressed further into his back, keeping him pinned. He had no idea what was coming next and it scared him. Either he'd be hit or kicked or receive physical pain of some sort or his pajama pants and boxers would be ripped off of him and...
"Stop..." he pleaded tearfully. "I don't want this."
"Why do you have to-"
"I don't want this! I don't want this! I don't want this!"
"Stop being so fucking difficult!"
Suddenly, Drake was yanked onto his feet and given a hard shove. He fell against the washing machine — no, kitchen counter. "Ow! Guh!" His jaw was still shut tight. He reached his free hand out to the right in search of the jug of laundry detergent. It was heavy and hitting his father once would daze him enough to give the boy time to escape. However, his fingers clasped...a faucet? He was spun around suddenly and instead of seeing the haunting face of Martin Parker, he saw, "Julio?"
"GIVEME THE KEYS!"
Once he could differentiate between reality and hallucination, he recalled the key in his hand. It was hard to see because his wasted friend was shaking him violently, but he moved his hand — the one holding the key this time — over to the sink.
"Don't!" Julio tried.
It was too late. Drake had dropped the key-chain down the drain. The boy immediately let him go, so he quickly turned on the faucet to make sure the keys didn't stop or get stuck. Julio yanked open the cabinet beneath the sink, then started twisting and tugging away the pipes. Water sprayed everywhere as he searched for his keys, but they were long gone. Drake started to clutch his sore face, but pulled his hand back as if it was fire. He saw dark crimson on his fingertips.
"Shit..." he whispered, then he spat a bloodied loogie onto the floor.
When Julio gave up, he glared at Drake. His friend hadn't thought it was possible, but he was even more enraged. He backed away as the drunk stood up. A pained screech left Julio, then he wound his fist back and slugged the boy who had betrayed him as hard as he possibly could.
Drake groaned and squeezed his eyes closed tighter as he came to. He lifted his hand and pressed the heel of his palm against his pounding forehead. "Mmmm..." he whined. When he opened his eyes, he found himself on the kitchen floor. He had no idea how he'd gotten here or how long he'd been here. He could recall his fight with Julio and he remembered dropping the car keys down the drain, but everything after that was gone.
He looked around and saw droplets of blood on the floor and the legs of his pants were soaked since his calves rested in the large puddle of water that was underneath the sink. There was no more water spraying out, but there were still a couple pipes missing. One was by his feet. He noticed that the other was up against the wall as if Julio had chucked it in his anger.
Drake rolled onto his side, then he started slowly pushing himself onto his hands and knees, then his feet. He immediately stumbled backwards, but the counter caught him. He felt so fucking dizzy. He took a few moments to steady himself before pushing away from the counter. His footsteps were sluggish and he wasn't sure where he was going. He immediately wanted to head upstairs and go to sleep, but then he thought about what Ricardo would think when he got home and found Drake and the kitchen this way. He needed to clean up, but then another thought hit him. Where's Julio?
The young man moved over to one of the windows and peered out. The driveway was empty.
"Son of a bitch..." he said under his breath.
Julio had a spare key due to the fact that his forgetfulness has led him on many occasions to lock his original key in the car. How could Drake have forgotten this? He needed to call him. He hated Drake and might not answer, but he had to try. He needed to know that the boy was okay. He'd left his phone upstairs, so he cautiously ascended to the second floor. About halfway up, he could just faintly hear his ringtone. Once he made it to his room, it stopped. Drake went over to his nightstand and picked up his cell phone.
5 missed calls
He started to swipe to unlock his phone, but then it started ringing again. San Diego Corrections Facility. "What the fuck?" came out on a whisper. He answered the phone and agreed to accept the charges when the robotic voice said the caller's name was Julio.
"Hello?"
"Drake! Jesus, whythe fuck haven'you been answering your phone?!"
He was baffled that Julio even had the audacity to ask this, so he couldn't come up with a response.
Julio was already past it. "Look, canyoucome bailme outtajail?"
"What the fuck did you do?" he asked softly.
"Igot pulledoveran'he arrested me."
"Fuck, Julio. That was so fucking stupid."
"Look, are you gonna comegetme or not?!"
Obviously, he would. "Yeah. Hold on a sec." he went over to his computer desk in search of something to write with.
"And don't tellmybrother, okay? He'll kill me."
"You're not gonna tell Ricky?"
"No. So don't you dareeither!"
Drake had a pen and a piece of paper now. He learned over his desk. "Okay, do you see that list they got stuck to the wall by the phone?"
He knew that it was there because he had gone to jail for stealing Triple C's from Dollar General a few years ago. Mindy and Rhinestone had bailed him out. He never paid her back like he promised. That felt like a lifetime ago.
"Give me the phone numbers."
There were three there. They belonged to bondsmen. Going through one of them would mean he'd only have to pay ten percent of what the bail was. Julio read off the names and numbers.
"Have they talked to you yet about how much your bail's set at?"
"Five thousand."
"Fuck, Julio."
"Youonly haveto paya percentage, right?"
"Yeah, but I don't have five hundred dollars lying around either."
"Well, how much doyou have?"
He had just been paid a couple days ago for his grass-cutting and he still had a lot left over after cigarettes and other small things. "I have, like, two-sixty, but it's in Ricardo's account."
"Well, getit out."
"He's gonna ask what it's for and require receipts. We set up this new way of doing things after my relapse so he knows what I'm spending my money on."
"Fuck."
"You don't have any money?"
"Not really. Just the little bitI hadinmy wallet, which wouldhardly makea dent."
"I thought you had money saved up on your debit card from school."
"I flunkedouttaschool."
"What the fuck? When?"
"Doesit matter? Look, Ican'tbeon the phone forever."
"Alright." Drake sighed as he searched his aching brain for some sort of solution. "Alright, let me try to get up some money. Call me back in, like, an hour, okay?"
"Just don'tellmy brother."
"I won't."
Drake was hunched over in the hard, uncomfortable chair and he held his head up with his hand. His face hurt and he had been so caught up in finding the money to bail Julio out of jail that he'd forgotten to take any Tylenol. Gemini had lent him four hundred, which he had saved up. He was really good about saving money. Drake swore he'd pay him back with interest. Rhinestone had sent him a money order with the rest.
Drake had never asked for such a substantial amount of money from them before, but he knew they'd help out. Back when they were together, Gem had bailed Rhinestone out of jail, too, and sometimes on the phone, Rhinestone would tell Drake when an old friend of his — his best friend Lilly — would borrow money. He sent her money all the time.
Still, he couldn't remember a time he'd asked them for more than the cost of a few boxes of Triple C's and that was a long time ago. He hated that Julio had put him in this position. How was he supposed to pay them back? He couldn't use his grass-cutting money because he'd promised Ricardo that he could monitor it. Maybe he could see if one of Mrs. Hayfer's neighbors knew anyone who needed lawn care. If he could just pick up an extra four yards, that would be almost half the money and that was something. He just wouldn't be able to see Hero on his last day off.
Drake lifted his head when he heard a heavy door open. A stern-looking man was walking Julio out and he motioned towards a desk. Julio went over and signed something, then Drake stood as he approached him. He seemed somewhat confused about the swelling and the bruises forming on his friend's face, but neither said anything about it. Instead, they walked to the car in silence, which wasn't broken until they were seated and pulling out of the parking lot.
"How'd you get the money?"
"I borrowed it from Gem and Rhinestone. They took the grant money back that they gave you when you quit school?" He was pissed and it kind of came out in his voice.
"No, I just spent it."
"Okay, so you blew all your cash on alcohol and you have no job, so now I'm gonna be stuck paying for this shit."
"Like you haven't been kept up by me and my brother for the past three years," Julio retorted.
Drake couldn't argue with that. Really, he couldn't argue with anything. He used to spend every dime on his addiction, too. Mindy had paid his bail and he'd never paid her back. Plus, his friend was right. The Santos brothers had kept him up while he worked through his mental health and addiction issues.
"Look, I'll come up with the money somehow, alright?" Now he asked the pressing question. "Did you tell my brother?"
"No, I didn't tell your brother, but he's definitely gonna want an explanation for why my face looks like this."
There was confusion in Julio's eyes before it dawned on him. I did that. "What are you gonna tell him?"
Drake was hurt that the boy's voice was filled with worry rather than guilt. "I don't know. We just had this whole discussion about honesty and I can't believe I've gotta lie to him for you."
"Just say you were jumped."
"Do you know how many times I've used that excuse?"
"So what's one more time?"
"Can you just shut the fuck up?"
Julio sat back in his seat and snarled. "You don't have to be such a dick."
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Drake glanced at him incredulously, then put his eyes back on the road. He was driving Julio's car, which they'd had to pay to get out of impound. This had taken the last of the boy's school money.
"I fucking hate you."
"Well, I love you, Julio. I fucking love you to death," he snapped with a harsh voice. "I know I've been a piece of shit and I'm sorry. I'm sorry about all of it. I wish I could take back everything I did to hurt you and I hate myself for it. I should've let my dad kill me because I haven't made a single positive impact on anyone's life since then. All I do is cause stress and worry and chaos. I hurt everyone, but I especially hurt you. You're the best friend anyone could ever ask for and I fucking miss you," he said. "And I get it. You're drinking because you're trying to punish me and you're trying to punish yourself for all the shit you blame yourself for that literally has nothing to do with you. You can't choose whether you hate yourself or you hate me more, so you just plan on destroying yourself because you know that'll hurt us both. You want me to leave you alone and give up on you so you can just hate me even more, but I'm not gonna fucking do that. I'm not going anywhere, so you go ahead and get yourself all nice and fucked up. I can't stop you and I know that, and when you realize how big of a mistake you're making because addiction is lifelong hell, I'll be right there waiting to go through all of the bullshit with you just like you've done for me. You're not getting rid of me that easy." Drake wasn't done. "But just understand me killing my dad and me being the cause of Meelah's death has fucked me up more than anything. It feels worse than all the fucking abuse and the rapes and the prostituting. I did that. I am a murderer. I don't want you to ever know what that feels like, but if you keep driving while intoxicated, you're gonna find out. Julio, that is so fucking stupid. I know you don't give a shit about yourself right now, but what if you hit someone and there's a kid in the car? Can you live with that? An innocent child? I killed a fucking abusive murderer/rapist in self-fucking-defense and it makes me sick to my stomach every time I think about it."
He caught a glimpse of Julio rolling his eyes and knew that his friend couldn't care less. He could understand that, though. He's been there. Even though Julio was too stubborn to care now, he'll remember this conversation later, just like Drake always had.
When the two boys got home, Julio was the first one inside. He was starving, so he headed straight for the kitchen, which was still a mess. He saw the knocked over stool, the blood splatters, the puddles of water, the scattered pipes.
Drake went straight for the laundry room and grabbed some towels. He started with the water. "Ricardo's gonna be home in twenty minutes."
Julio set the stool upright, then he started working on fixing the pipes because he figured that would take the longest. He wasn't exactly sure how to do it, but it couldn't be too hard, right? It was just two pipes. He glanced over his shoulder at Drake, who was wiping up his own blood with paper towels now. As he watched him, guilt started to set in. After he'd realized that he had beat him up, the memories had started coming back in quick flashes. He remembered lunging at him. He remembered Drake cowering. He remembered blood and he remembered tears. He remembered his friend suffering through it all just to prevent him from getting the keys and possibly killing himself or others. He remembered being so enraged when he'd dropped the keys into the drain. He remembered punching him as hard as he could, which was hard enough to knock Drake unconscious and leave him with a concussion. He knew the boy wouldn't say it, but in those moments, Julio had behaved just like his father had. He could no longer deny that. He wondered if Drake had suffered through a flashback during the beating. If so, how had he managed to muster the strength to get through it?
Despite his guilt, Julio was too stubborn to apologize, so he turned back to the pipes and kept his mouth shut.
"Jesus! What the hell?!" Ricardo set the brown bags full of Wendy's on the kitchen island and approached Drake with shock and concern. He lifted his friend's chin and tilted the boy's head to the right so that he could get a better look at the left side, where all the bruising was.
The injured young man pulled away. "I'm okay."
"What happened?!"
"I just — I was with this girl and she told me she was single, but then her boyfriend walked in." He was usually so good at lying, but this one felt so strange slipping off his tongue. He didn't think he sounded like he was telling the truth, but when he glanced up at Ricardo to gauge his reaction, it seemed like he believed him. This made him feel extra guilty and he wished he would've gotten caught in his lie.
"Hero?"
"No, some girl on Tinder."
The man frowned, then continued examining Drake's face. "Looks like he got you pretty good."
"You should've seen the other guy."
"Yeah?"
"I don't think there's ever been anyone walk away from a fight as unharmed as he was."
This made Ricky chuckle. Of course Drake didn't fight back. He would've been surprised if he had, though he would've been all for it. Drake was stronger than he thought he was, or maybe he knew that and that's what scared him.
"How was work?" Drake asked, changing the subject.
"It was alright. Julio's in his room?"
At that moment, the mentioned boy trudged down the stairs and entered the kitchen. Without a word, he grabbed his meal and drink and went back upstairs.
"He's still pissy?" Ricky asked, but Drake only shrugged. "I guess I'll go talk to him." He pulled his frosty out of the cup-holder and picked up one of the plastic spoons, then went after his brother.
Drake went to the living room to get the book he had been reading, then he brought it back to the kitchen and sat down in one of the bar-stools. He slid the bag across the counter and peeked inside to separate his food from Ricardo's. He opened his book, then tossed a fry into his mouth as he started to read. He didn't get far before his phone dinged.
Theo Quest: got plans tonight?
His immediate reaction was to ignore it. He didn't want to go out. He just wanted to stay in and read and then cry about being sober and then cry about not being able to sleep and then cry about not being sober some more. However, he knew that he needed to break this chain and start doing things to better his life. Isolating himself in his room wouldn't be healthy in the long run.
Drake Parker: sup
Theo Quest: just bought until dawn for ps4
Drake Parker: my house orrurs
Theo Quest: mine. got pizza rolls
Theo Quest: need me to pick u up?
Drake Parker: plez
He put his phone down and picked up his burger. Ricardo was coming down the stairs around that time. He set down his frosty, plopped into the seat next to Drake and reached for the Wendy's sack.
"Any luck?" the youngest asked.
"No, he said he was fine. I don't know what's going on with him." Ricardo unwrapped his spicy chicken sandwich. "Maybe it's one of those things he likes to deal with on his own and then he'll tell me about it when it's over."
"Maybe." Drake wouldn't meet his eyes.
"So what have you been up to today?"
"Not much," he lied. "I started putting that bookshelf together, but then I took a break because my back was hurting."
"How far did you get?"
"More than halfway."
"Want me to help you knock out the rest after dinner?"
"Actually, Theo was gonna come pick me up to stay the night."
"Oh, cool." He tried (and failed) to nonchalantly ask, "What are you guys gonna do?"
"He got this new video game and he wants me to come play, or I guess watch him play. I think it's only one-player."
"Are you gonna need any money?"
"I don't think so. He said he has pizza rolls, so I doubt we'll be going out anywhere. You're gonna be able to pick me up for rehearsals in the morning, right?"
"Yeah. You want me to come a little early so you can grab breakfast somewhere?"
"Yeah."
Ricardo sighed quietly, but his friend still heard it. "You'll call if you need to, right?"
"Yeah. I promise."
The man was silent for a moment and Drake could tell that he still wasn't too keen on the idea of the boy going out tonight. "I'm trying to trust you."
"I know," he said. "It's okay. I know it'll take time to earn your trust back."
Drake had stayed over at Hero's and this would make it twice this week that he's spent the night elsewhere. He'd admitted to getting high at the woman's house while she slept. He could just as easily do that at Theo's. He hated leaving the house, which made Ricardo skeptical that he was willing to spend two nights away in such a short time-frame. The young man could see the suspicion and concern on his friend's face. This was a process for everyone. He had to make decisions that affected more than just himself. They needed to make this a healthy, trustworthy, judgement-free and considerate environment, meaning that Drake needed to take Ricky's worry into account.
"I'll cancel," he said with a shrug and he wiped his hands off with a napkin before picking up his phone.
"No, don't do that."
"It's okay. I don't really even-"
"No, seriously. Go. What are you gonna do if you stay here? Lay awake all night wishing you could get high? Hang out with your friend. Go have fun."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah." He gave him a smile. "Go."
Drake met his eyes. "I promise nothing's gonna happen," he said. "I give you my word."
Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer we're both leaning towards Drake, but they couldn't quite reach him without falling off the dresser. He pulled the back of his shoe over his heel, then gave the tops of both of their heads a quick kiss and told them he loved them. The young man slung his bag over his shoulder and left his room, closing the cats in behind him. He'd heard the doorbell ring almost a minute ago and he thought Theo might be waiting for him outside. He was shy like that and they'd went to his house the few times they'd hung out, so he hadn't really met Ricardo and hadn't spoken to Julio since high school. Drake went down the staircase that led to the foyer, but as he passed the kitchen, he heard his roommate's alpha voice.
"Now I have your address."
Drake saw the man pass a driver's license back to Theo. "Jesus, Ricky."
"You agreed that I could have your exact location anytime you leave the house if I asked."
This was true. After admitting to his latest relapse at Mrs. Hayfer's house, he'd allowed the man to do random searches of his belongings and he'd given him control of his money. Seeing how wary Ricardo still was, Drake had later given him more rights to invade his privacy. He had never been this smothering before, but things were different after the boy had almost died. It was obvious that awful time had taken a toll on him. Drake felt like he had no personal space anymore, but this was all temporary and he wanted his friend to feel at ease.
Drake picked his phone up off the island and held it up. "You're tracking me. Remember?" He put it into his pocket and continued searching around the kitchen.
"I just wanna make sure you're going where you said you were. Besides, you could always turn your phone off and then I'd have no idea how to find you if I needed to."
"Have you seen my charger?"
The man pointed to an outlet by the edge of be counter, where Drake had plugged in his phone after dinner, then he put his eyes back on Theo. After inviting him in, he'd motioned for him to sit on one of the bar-stools while he stood on the opposite side of the island. His height and serious demeanor were intimidating and he knew this. "No drugs," he said sternly to the boy sitting across from him. "You understand?" He didn't accompany it with a threat, but he didn't have to. His tone and physique were enough.
Theo's meek voice was just as serious, but mixed with fear as he looked up at him. "Yes, sir."
"Oh, um, this is Theo." Drake pulled his bag halfway off his shoulder so that he could put the charger inside. "Theo, this is my dad apparently."
"You wish."
"I do, actually."
"I'm Ricardo," he corrected. After giving his friend a playful, yet firm shove, he held his hand out for their guest to shake. "Nice to meet you."
Theo robotically shook it while glancing at his mental hospital buddy for an out.
"Okay, we're gonna go," Drake said. "Got anymore things you wanna say to scare my new friend away?"
"There's a few more, but I think I'll save them."
"Asshole."
"Guess I've been living with you too long. You're starting to rub off on me." He watched his roommate lead Theo towards the door and jokingly called, "Bye, son. Remember what we talked about. Say no to drugs."
Drake picked up an orange out of the fruit bowl he passed and hurled it at the man, who dodged it with laughter. Once outside, he said, "Jesus, I'm sorry about him." He felt a raindrop land on his arm, then another.
"He's scary."
"He's really not. He's a cool guy. Things are just kinda weird right now. I relapsed again and lied to him about it and I'm just trying to make things right again." He got in the passenger's seat as Theo got behind the wheel.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah. I just slipped up." He shrugged as if to say it wasn't a big deal, but he was still having a hard time forgiving himself for it and Theo could hear the shame in his voice.
"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want."
Drake changed the subject with relief. "Is your mom and sister home?"
Theo has two sisters, but the oldest, who is twenty-seven, is married and has two kids and the youngest, nineteen, is in the army. She's back home visiting for a couple weeks.
"Yeah, but Mom's gotta work tonight and Casey's going to a bar or something with some friends, so it's just you, me and a giant bag of pizza rolls."
"You're very stuck on these pizza rolls."
Theo shrugged. "I'm just excited. I've never actually had anyone over for a sleepover before."
"Ever?"
"Well, I didn't really have friends or anything, remember?"
Drake found this to be extremely weird, but he had spent the night at his friends' houses more than the average kid so that he wouldn't have to stay with his father. He'd been a couch-hopper since his early teenage years. He had a hard time finding a sense of belonging because he had constantly been moving from place to place. Having divorced parents and rotating from house to house was a big enough transition, but then adding the houses of his friends, classmates and make-out buddies into the mix became even more overwhelming. After his times on the street and with Tad, he'd given up on ever feeling like he could call someplace home. That is, until Ricardo and Julio had dragged him into their lives. Now he never wanted to leave.
By the time they reached Theo's house, it was pouring down raining. He pulled into the garage, then turned off the car.
"Do you care if I smoke before we go in?"
"No, go ahead."
Drake got out of the car and went over towards the garage door so that the smoke would go outside rather than in. He lit up, then exhaled and looked up at the pouring rain.
"This'll be fun," Theo said as he came around his side of the vehicle to stand beside the boy. "Playing a horror game during a thunderstorm."
"Yeah," he agreed absently. It hadn't rained in a while and it felt comforting now. It definitely made the thought of not being home for several consecutive hours less daunting. Drake squatted down and rested his back against the trunk of the car for support. He took a drag of his cigarette, then watched the cloud of smoke leave his mouth, travel upwards and disappear in the rain. "How have you been?"
Theo looked down at him. Drake was already a small guy and squatting down only made him even smaller. He sometimes shopped in the little boys' section and the tag sticking out of the back of his gray pajama shirt gave this away. He could stand to gain another twenty or so pounds to reach a healthier weight for his size and he was trying. He had been much smaller than this while on the streets and starving, so he was making progress, although slowly. His latest relapse hadn't helped either considering all of the puking he had done on top of hardly eating. He didn't look well — not when Theo compared him to what he had looked like in high school. He had girls all over him back then and, honestly, he could still have girls all over him if he put himself out there, but he still looked run-down. Maybe it wasn't just his lack of an appetite that made him this way. Maybe there was more to it, but he clearly didn't want to talk about it, just like he'd quickly abandoned the relapse conversation from earlier. He probably had a lot on his mind and was struggling with his depressing thoughts, but if he hadn't talked earlier, he wouldn't talk now — not unless Theo made himself look vulnerable, too. That way, Drake wouldn't feel like he was being weak or annoying.
"It's been a rough transition honestly," Theo answered. "I've been to mental hospitals plenty of times and I just feel like nothing ever changes. My mom's great and my sisters call when they can, but—" He squatted down and leaned his back against the car to match his friend's height. "—it's just not the same. They have no idea what I'm going through and sometimes they say the wrong thing and I snap. It's like I know they're trying to help, but...I don't know. Sometimes I just feel really alone."
"Yeah, me, too," Drake said quietly. He was silent for a few moments, then he continued suddenly as if just now recalling something. "I know I'm not, though, and I have to start remembering that. I can't keep slipping up. It's destroying other people's lives...like Julio. He can't even stand to be in the same room as me anymore. He hates me."
Theo cautiously asked, "Is he what happened to your face?"
The boy said nothing, but his silence was enough of an answer.
Back in ninth grade, Drake and Julio could always be found in the hallways of the school together. Even on the few occasions when Theo had ran into them outside of school, they were usually together. The two had been best friends for a long time and he couldn't imagine Julio ever hating Drake. Still, ninth grade was so long ago and people change, so he really didn't know enough about his former classmate to assure Drake that he was still well-liked by him.
"Did your sisters ever..." Drake started, but then he trailed off.
Theo waited a few moments for him to continue, but it was clear that he wouldn't without a push. "Did they ever what?"
"I don't know. Did they ever...get mad or jealous when your mom treated you differently than them or gave you extra attention because of what happened to you?"
This was actually something that he couldn't relate to, so instead of answering, he asked, "Is that what's happening at home?"
Drake took another hit, then slowly let go of his breath before speaking. "I don't know how to fix this. I've been fucking around and acting selfishly for so long and now I see what's it's doing to Julio. If I say something, I just sound like a hypocritical asshole and he hates me even more and he'll eventually stop being my friend altogether, but if I don't say anything, then...then what if something goes wrong and he gets hurt?"
"Well," Theo started, "which can you live with? Intervening and losing your best friend? Or not intervening and allowing your best friend to lose himself?"
"Oh my fucking God! I pressed triangle!" Theo exclaimed as he watch the fire tower that two of his characters were in turn over and collapse into the mines. The screen went dark for a second, then it displayed the male character named Matt climbing around on the upside-down tower-turned-jungle-gym. "Well, at least he's alive. His girlfriend was a bitch anyway."
"Emily reminds me of my ex-fiancée," Drake said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, she was just like that, but with a lot more name-calling and yelling and hitting."
"Damn." Moments later, he watched the angle change to show Emily clutching to a part of the tower, hanging on for dear life as her feet dangled over a large, deep, dangerous abyss. "Oh, I guess she is alive."
"That's good. You haven't killed anyone yet."
In Until Dawn, there are eight characters the player is trying to keep alive. They're stuck on a snowy mountain and being hunted one by one. It was like a ninety's horror film, but interactive.
Emily: Matt, you've gotta do something right now! What are you waiting for?!
Matt: I'm thinking! Let me think!
Emily: Don't think, you idiot! Just get me outta here!
The camera turned to Matt, then two choices popped up next to his head. On the right, it read Supportive ("You're gonna be fine.") and the left said Suspicious ("I saw you with Mike!") Mike was Emily's ex. Matt had seen them being a little too friendly with one another earlier while looking through some binoculars.
Theo busted out laughing. "Like this is the right time to bring that up! Jesus! Oh, but I wanna be a douchebag so bad because I hate her!"
Theo was like Julio in the sense that they both got super into their video games. Drake enjoyed sitting back and watching other people make the hard decisions and he liked to study the choices they made.
Theo groaned. "Ugh! She totally deserves it, but I'm gonna hurt my own feelings if I say something mean." He clicked Supportive.
Matt: Emily, you're upset. You need to calm down. You're gonna be fine.
Emily: Ugh, stop talking! I can't take it!
Matt: Stop yelling at me and let me work this out, okay?!
Emily: Yeah, you just take all the time you need. Not like I'm going anywhere!
Sarcastic ("Whatever you say.") or Concerned ("Don't move.")
Theo laughed again, which made Drake laugh, too. "God, I want to so badly! Why am I so nice?! I fucking hate myself." He picked Concerned.
Matt: I'm gonna try and get to you and pull you up.
Emily: Now will you please get me off this goddamn tower?! Please, please, please, Matt! Just do something!
Suddenly, the tower dropped downward slightly as if it were about to fall, then a choice popped up, this one timed. Theo had just seconds to choose between Jump To Safety or Save Emily. He went with the latter.
"What the fuck? I could've yelled at her and still saved her?!" He went quiet as Matt reached for his girlfriend, but Emily dropped down to a lower railing and screamed.
Emily: Shit! Oh, shit! Matt!
Matt: I don't wanna tip it.
He tip-toed backwards and the player was, once again, given the same choice: Save Emily or Jump To Safety.
"They're trying to make me second-guess myself." Theo chose the same option and Matt reached down for the girl's hand. Once again, the weight of the towel shifted and jerked, causing Emily to let go and fall down into the dark abyss. "What the fuck?! What was I supposed to do?! Jump to safety?!"
At that moment, a cut scene played. The entire tower began to collapse, forcing Matt to jump to a nearby ledge that led into the mines. He hit his head and the screen went black, then came back to a scene of him dizzily coming to.
"Maybe you were supposed to jump to safety first and then help her so your weight didn't make everything fall," Drake offered.
"So I was supposed to be a douchebag the whole time?! And I wanted to!"
"Or maybe it was one of those things that didn't matter either way."
Matt walked around for a few moments until something suddenly fell behind him. The two boys flinched at the jump scare. Drake was glad that it was storming outside because it made him feel much more immersed into the game. Suddenly, the character was grabbed and dragged by something unseen. He screamed and kept grabbing at his jacket.
"Oh, come on. Come on!" Theo complained with irritation.
They watched as he was lifted up, then the camera turned to a few hooks hanging on the walls.
"No! No!"
One of the hooks went right through the character's neck and came out of his mouth. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dangled there, dead.
"What the fuck?!" Theo jumped up and pressed pause. "What the fuck was I supposed to do there?!"
Drake couldn't help that he was laughing. "You literally just lost two people in, like, two seconds."
"Fuck off."
"He kept grabbing for his jacket. I bet when Emily found that flare gun, you should've chosen for her to give it to Matt instead of keep it."
"GRRR!" Theo growled from deep within his chest. He tossed the controller down and stomped out of the room, probably for a bathroom break since they had been playing for hours.
Drake stood, too. "Hey, I'm gonna go smoke."
He picked up his cigarettes and took them out to the garage just as lightning flashed. It was raining so hard that he couldn't get right next to the large door without getting soaked, so he stood back a couple feet, wishing he would've grabbed a jacket. The rain was cold for it to be July. His mind roamed to thoughts about Ricardo and how he was. He knew that his absence had left the man with concern and he hoped that he wasn't worrying too much about him. He was tired of causing everyone so much stress. He decided to pull out his phone and text him an update.
Drake Parker: hey ur prob sleepin ..buti wanted to check in &letu Know im ok havnt had any cravings &.things r ok
He didn't expect to get a response since it was close to one in the morning, but he did.
Ricardo Santos: thx for letting me know. Was doing a bunch of paperwork for the bar but I'm heading to bed now. Goodnight
Drake was about halfway through his cigarette now. Theo opened the door so suddenly that Drake flinched. His friend bounced outside.
"That was total fucking bullshit," he was still complaining. "Anyway, I'm making us some pizza rolls. Damn, it's raining hard."
Ricardo got out of his car when Drake didn't answer his phone. He'd just spoken to the boy earlier when he'd told him he'd be about thirty minutes late picking him up from Rent rehearsals. Drake had said he'd wait for him, but he was nowhere in sight and he wasn't answering his phone. His mind immediately went to one place. What if he relapsed?
Ricardo walked down the sidewalk past where Drake would usually smoke a cigarette while waiting for him. He pushed his way through the double doors and immediately saw his friend laying on his side against the wall, his head on his backpack. He was asleep. The man approached him quietly and woke him with gentleness and caution.
The second Drake saw him, he sat up. "Shit, sorry."
"I tried to call you."
"I must've forgotten to take my phone off silent after rehearsals." Drake checked his phone and saw that he was correct, then fixed it.
"You alright?"
"Yeah." He took Ricky's hand and allowed him to help him up, then he bent down and grabbed his things before following the man to his car. After getting in, he rested his head against the seat and closed his eyes.
"Tired?"
"Mm-hmm."
Ricardo glanced at him. "You know it's your night to cook dinner." When he didn't get a response, he added, "Right?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna do it."
"Did rehearsals go okay?"
"Yeah, I got yelled at."
The man furrowed his brows. "Why?"
"It's not a big deal." Finally, Drake opened his eyes so that he could turn on the radio. He didn't even bother changing the station because he knew that Ricardo would only flip it back. He turned the volume up slightly as his not-so-subtle way of saying he didn't want to talk, then he rested his head against the seat again and, this time, drifted off to sleep.
Ricardo left him that way until he pulled into the driveway. The two went inside and Drake laid down on the couch, claiming he just needed a fifteen minute nap before starting on dinner. He was asleep again once his head hit the pillow. The older boy decided to leave him that way and began cooking himself. Since he'd started over getting clean, Drake hadn't been sleeping much. He stayed up a lot crying and fighting his addiction on his own, but he needed the rest. Finally, he was peacefully asleep despite some faint Fourth Of July firecrackers from distant houses.
"I thought Drake was cooking," Julio said as he came down the stairs.
Ricardo noticed him stumble towards one of the bar-stools. "He's sleeping. Are you drunk?"
"It's a holiday and I had the day off."
"How's school going?"
"It's good."
"Passing your classes?"
"Yeah, so what are you making?" he asked to change the subject.
"Chicken and white cheese enchiladas."
"Mmm. Drake's gonna hate missing that. You waking him up to eat?"
"Nah, I'm gonna let him sleep while he can. Otherwise, he might not be able to go back to sleep later with all these fireworks."
"Wish I could get out of my turn to cook like that." He said this bitterly and his brother noticed this.
"He's just been having a lot of cravings that keep him awake and nightmares when he manages to fall asleep. What's up?"
Julio kept his jealousy and hatred to himself. The last thing he wanted was to be scolded by Ricky for having little sympathy for the wounded puppy dog in their living room. "Let me know when it's done, okay?" With that, he made his way back upstairs.
Not surprisingly, Drake could feel himself having sleep paralysis. He hated suffering from this so often. A lot of times, it had something to do with his father. This time, however, Martin wasn't present. Instead, he saw Marcellas and Rashaad. He was looking up at their toothy smirks because he was laying flat on his back in the grave he had dug on what was probably the worst night of his life.
He tried to get up, but he couldn't move. It was as if he was being pinned down. When he looked around, he saw that this was true. Just at the edge of his vision, he could see pale, filthy hands sticking out of the dirt and clutching him. There were three pairs: one at his left arm, one at his right arm and one at his feet. He wanted to pull away, but he couldn't. He wanted to scream, but it wouldn't come.
Marcellas and Rashaad said nothing. They just kept looking down at him and laughing as they watched him struggle against his restraints. He was too weak. Suddenly, Drake saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his fearful gaze in that direction and saw more popping out of the dirt in between the arms. It was a head. It took him a moment to realize that he knew the face since it was covered in dirt and blood. It was Sammie, the other guy who had owed money to Marcellas. He never made it through the night alive. Instead, he had been shot in the head just inches away from Drake. Drake had been forced to bury the body.
He never talked about this, but it still haunted him to this day. He never told Ricardo and Julio about it because he was scared that maybe they'd talk him into turning himself in. He knew it was the right thing to do, but he couldn't. Instead, his wife and kids had woken up that morning and never heard from Sammie again.
The terrified young man saw movement on his right. This time, he immediately recognized the person that was holding that side of him down: Meelah. Except it wasn't Meelah. She had different colored eyes. They were empty black pits that seemed to swallow Drake whole. Her teeth were jagged and her fingernails were lengthy claws sharpened to a point. She slashed at his chest and he felt a stinging sensation. She was angry and all Drake wanted to do was apologize to her — to both of them — but he was frozen and his voice got stuck in his throat.
Next he felt something rain down on top of him. He looked up and saw the two drug dealers holding shovels. They both scooped up dirt and poured it on top of Drake. They were going to bury him alive! He didn't even have time to process his fear before Martin shot out of the ground with a loud, inhuman roar. He was much bigger than Drake remembered, or maybe he just forgot what it had felt like to feel so small around him. Martin immediately scooped up the boy's legs, spreading them apart and tossing them over his shoulders in one swift movement. It was then that Drake realized he was naked.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Sammie grabbed his throat, Meelah clamped her hand over his mouth and Martin violently penetrated him. It felt like his penis had been replaced with a long, sharp knife. Drake couldn't move, he couldn't scream, he couldn't breathe and the two drug dealers continued unceasingly piling dirt on top of him. All he could do was lay there in his grave, surrounded by the people he had killed.
Minutes passed, before Marcellas and Rashaad put a moratorium on filling the hole. They disappeared out of sight, then returned moments later carrying another body. They swung it a couple times before tossing it into the grave. It landed right next to him and Drake was able to see that it was Julio. He was still alive and he seemed just as terrified as the one suffering through the vicious attack. Julio quickly backed himself against the dirt wall, his fear evident on his face.
At first, Drake tried begging him for help, but then he realized that his friend was the one who actually needed the help. Still, Drake was paralyzed. He moved his eyes back to the three corpses surrounding him. The one who was most terrifying was right above him: Martin Parker. Unlike Meelah's, his eyes were the same. They didn't need to change in order to scare his son. Drake felt so heavy, like he was filled with lead, but all he wanted to do was run.
He turned his eyes back to Julio and saw that the boy now had a razor in his hand and was slicing large gashes into his arms. He felt completely powerless. Again, another body was tossed into the grave. This time it was his mother. Like Julio, she was horrified and she soon began self-mutilating as well. Her weapon was a saw and, instead of cutting her wrists, she began chopping off her legs.
Drake could only lay there as he sobbed. He couldn't even apologize for being the cause of all this. She probably thought he didn't care. Marcellas and his right-hand man began piling on more dirt again until they were all covered, except there was room to move around in. It was like they were in a box, but there was no box. The dirt just made a tiny room for them. When Julio and Audrey finished destroying themselves, they went in on Drake.
The sleep paralysis went on for longer than three hours, topping his previous record. All the while, the torture never stopped. Meelah kept him quiet while Sammie strangled him. Julio carved through his skin with razors and Mrs. Nichols sawed away at his legs with careful precision so that she didn't interrupt her ex husband, who never could seem to finish. Hours and hours of him thrusting into the boy with what felt as sharp as a knife and Drake couldn't do anything about it but cry. Long ago, he had given up on the idea that this was just sleep paralysis. He believed he had died in his sleep and this was hell. This was the punishment he deserved — the torture he would have to endure for all of eternity. This was his hell. Funny, he always pictured a bunch of fire.
Right then, the grave was filled with flames, but his skin wasn't melting and he wasn't dying. He just felt it. It was like when his father would punish him by burning him on the stove or pouring boiling water on him, but it was way worse and it was on every inch of his skin.
As Drake lay on the couch visibly suffering through the hallucinatory paralysis, his kitten Macaulay jumped on top of him. It was as if someone had shaken him awake. Just this little, tiny movement was enough to break the paralysis. He shoved his attackers away, starting with Meelah so he could scream for help. He clawed at his neck to make Sammie let go and he clawed at his arms to get free of their grip.
Upstairs, Ricardo's eyes shot open the second he heard the noise. Drake was shrieking and moaning and growling with terror. He flung the cover off of himself and snatched his bedroom door open, then bolted down the stairs two at a time. He entered the living room just in time to see his friend scratch his own bare chest so violently that it left trails of blood.
"Bro, stop." He hurried towards the boy, who continued to injure himself even further. He started to gently shake him and his touch immediately woke him.
The second Drake's eyes landed on him, he screamed and went for a punch. He often was extremely disoriented after vivid nightmares, so Ricardo expected this and was able to dodge it. The terrified young man gave him a hard shove, then he started scooting himself backwards with his hands and heels. He fell over the arm of the couch and hit the floor hard, but he continued frantically moving away like it never happened.
"Hey, hey, hey," Ricky tried soothingly.
"Please, don't!" He was still crying heavily.
"Calm down. It was just a nightmare. It's over now. You're home. You're safe."
"Please don't touch me! Please don't touch me!"
"It's me. It's Ricardo. It's Ricky, bro."
"Ricky?" his voice cracked out. It took a moment for this to register in his mind, but he realized these words were true. As his nightmare world began melting away, he found himself in his living room. He looked around frantically. It felt like he hadn't been here in years. After his horrible hallucination, he thought that he'd never return.
Ricky turned on a lamp, which dimly lit the room. He watched Drake's eyes as he tried to process everything. He was clearly confused like he so often was, but unlike when the man would wake him from a nightmare, he was whimpering and Ricardo had never seen him shake so much in his life
"What's happening?" the boy whispered.
"Nothing's happening," his friend said calmly. "You're safe. You were just having a nightmare. No one can touch you now." He knelt down in front of him and was surprised when Drake wrapped his arms around him. Ricardo held him and rubbed circles into his back as he bawled into his chest.
"I'm scared."
"I know. I'm right here. I'm not gonna let anyone touch you, okay? Just breathe." He could hear the beginning of a panic attack and he wanted to get control of that before it turned into a full-fledged thing. "You're okay." He rocked him back and forth as the boy's trembling fingers clutched the back of his shirt.
Ricky looked around, then grabbed the blanket hanging off the edge of the couch and put it over both of their heads. It was hard to breathe under blankets, which sounds like it'd only make things worse, but it worked for Drake. It forced him to focus on his inhales and exhales and took his mind off of everything else. The young man was drenched with sweat and being trapped under a blanket with him and having hot air cycling around made Ricardo sweat, too, but he ignored it and continued comforting his friend.
A long time passed before Drake's uncontrollable sobbing turned into quiet weeping. He felt embarrassed to be acting like this. He was a grown man after all, but he couldn't stop. The nightmare had felt so real. It actually felt like he had just endured a vicious sexual assault for over three hours straight. He felt all those same emotions, but amplified due to his lack of drugs to numb him.
Ricardo was the first to break the silence that had been going on for over twenty minutes now. "You wanna come lay down in my room?" he asked softly. "You can get comfortable and try to sleep and I'll wake you up if you start to have another nightmare."
Drake just nodded into his chest. Ricky stood and helped him up. The young man kept his head down with shame and allowed his friend to lead him upstairs. They made a detour to the bathroom and Ricardo wet a washcloth and started cleaning him off. It wasn't until then that Drake noticed the claw marks and the blood and the stinging of his scratched skin. There were a couple marks on his bare chest, but his neck was a complete wreck. His arms were the worst of all, so the man wrapped them up in a bandage after helping his stunned, disoriented roommate clean the blood out from underneath his fingernails.
"I feel sick," Drake said quietly.
"You gonna throw up?"
He didn't even have time to respond before vomit raced up his esophagus. He managed to lean over the toilet in time to hit the bowl. Ricardo cleaned up the bloody tissues while he did this. He went to change his own shirt, which had some of the boy's blood on it, while Drake relieved his bladder. Panic attacks always made him have to pee. He washed his hands and the man came back just as he was finishing brushing his teeth.
"You ready?" he asked quietly.
Drake nodded and followed him to his room. He laid down on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He was still crying and he felt embarrassed. "I'm sorry. This is so pathetic."
"Hey, no, it's not."
"I just wanted to do this on my own. I wanted to prove to you that I'm serious about cleaning up this time and that I would be okay when you're not around."
"I know."
"I wanna get high." His voice cracked with disappointment.
Ricardo rubbed his bicep for comfort.
"I won't, but it's just so fucking hard."
"I know," the man said. "You wanna talk about your nightmare?"
Drake played the images back in his mind. He still felt heavy and weak from the paralysis. He kept thinking about what they had done to him and what made him feel the most nauseous was knowing that he deserved it. He was the reason that they were dead, the reason Julio was so fucked up, the reason his mother had lost mobility of her legs and started taking Xanax. He had ruined all of their lives. He wished Marcellas' safety on his gun hadn't been on when eeny-meeny-miney-mo had decided that it was his time to die. Thinking about all this made him cry harder.
"Hey, c'mere." Ricardo pulled him closer and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him against the safety of his chest again. "You don't have to talk about it. It's okay."
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay," he assured softly. "It's okay."
Drake heard the last firecracker go off somewhere after three o'clock. Ricardo had fallen asleep somewhere around midnight, but his friend hadn't been so lucky. The young man stayed awake for fear of who might visit him when he closed his eyes. He was extremely tired after the long day of rehearsals he'd had on top of staying up with Theo the night before, but even if he wanted to give in and get some shut-eye, it was impossible.
Hour after hour ticked away on the clock until the man started moving around — first his leg, then his arm, then he opened his eyes. He blinked a few times to clear the sleepiness from his eyes.
"You're awake," Ricky said. "Did you sleep?"
Drake didn't want to say he hadn't, but he also didn't want to lie. The best thing he could think of to do was to not answer the question.
The man wasn't fully awake yet and therefore didn't understand that his silence was an answer. "Drake?"
"I don't wanna talk about it," he said in a quiet, monotone voice.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Can I have some of my money? I wanna go for a walk to the store." He'd rather mope around in bed all day, but he wanted to try to better his mood rather than let himself fall into a depression for the rest of his day. That was too dangerous at this point in his sobriety.
"What are you gonna buy?"
"Orange juice." He had been thinking about orange juice for the past couple hours now. At first, it had just been a thought while the sun was coming up through the windows, but then he started thinking about how strong of a punch the beverage had and how maybe that could wake him from his slump. After that, it became something he felt like he desperately needed in order to save his day.
Ricardo thought about this. Orange juice was a couple dollars...and so was Charlie. He wanted to trust him, but Drake had never just woken up wanting to walk to the store for any kind of juice before. On days when he was this down, the only thing that got him out of bed was the hope that his favorite red pills were in stock.
"Lemme drive you."
"I wanna walk — stretch my legs."
"Can you give me some time to get dressed."
"I wanna go alone."
This took the man by surprise. He thought about it for moment. "I don't think it's a good idea."
Drake sighed.
"I'm trying to trust you. I really am."
"How am I ever gonna be able to prove myself to you if you don't let me? I went out with Theo the other night and behaved. I admitted to you how much I was struggling with a craving last night rather than lied to you. I had every opportunity to grab your wallet in the middle of the night and go to the store while you were sleeping, but I laid right here the whole time." He had wept a lot, but he didn't mention that. "If I wanted to relapse, I would've done it last night when I actually had the chance to get away with it."
"I believe you, but how do you know that when you get to the store, you won't change your mind?"
Drake thought about this. Ricardo had every right to do what he was doing. This is what they'd agreed on. It just made him feel indignant that he had to get permission to spend his own money. It was like when Dahlia told him he couldn't leave the house if he wanted to earn her trust back.
"I'll go to a gas station instead. They don't sell Charlie."
Ricardo exhaled slowly through his nostrils as he mulled this over. "You promise?"
"I promise."
He pushed himself out of bed and grabbed his wallet. Instead of giving Drake his card with both of their earnings on it, he pulled out a couple dollar bills and passed it to his friend. "Don't make me regret this."
"I won't."
"Bring back the receipt and the change."
"Okay."
"Don't forget to take your medicine before you leave."
This reminder irritated him, but he brushed it off. "Okay."
Just like he'd hoped, the fresh air, exercise and orange juice had improved his mood. He'd made it back home just as the first sprinkles of rain started to fall and he'd given Ricardo his proof of purchase and leftover change. Afterwards, he went on the front porch to chain-smoke and watch the storm roll in. He was still pretty monotone and wanted to be alone, but it wasn't as bad as it had been this morning. Still, when his phone started ringing and Rhinestone's name flashed on the screen, Drake ignored it. He couldn't handle two hours of chatting, although maybe it would've been for the best. All he could do now was sit here and replay the nightmare he'd had over and over again, recalling every last detail. He didn't have to do this long before he got upset and began weeping, but at least it was just a "depression" upset and not an "anxiety" upset. Having another panic attack on top of all this would really put him over the edge.
He stayed outside for a couple hours, then Ricardo, sensing that something was still off, invited him inside for a Netflix binge. They chose to watch a new show rather than a movie and went with Mindhunter, which, in short, was about the beginning of a unit in the FBI that interviewed serial killers to learn more about them. They were four episodes in when they took a break so that Ricardo could make a sandwich to hold him over until his date with Dee. As he was doing this, Julio joined him.
They didn't speak, but it was a comfortable silence. Julio stood next to him and grabbed his own slices of bread, then waited to use the same knife as his brother. After Ricardo finished spreading the peanut butter, he put he knife in the jar and passed it to Julio. When the boy grabbed it, he noticed his knuckles, red and swollen and a couple of them were busted. This took him by surprise. How long have they been this way? What had Julio done to make his hands look like this. Well, obviously, he punched something...or someone. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together and suddenly it clicked.
"It was you."
"Hmm?" Julio licked the extra peanut butter off the knife. "What was me?"
"You're the one who hit Drake." His voice showed his surprise.
Julio looked at him and noticed that he was staring at his knuckles. There was no use denying it at this point. He was busted, but he was too proud to show any remorse. "Yeah, so?"
"Yeah, so?!"
Drake heard his roommate suddenly raise his voice in the kitchen and it gave him a start.
"Why would you do that?!"
"None of your fucking business." He started to walk past him and back upstairs, but his bicep was grabbed.
"It is my business!" the man snapped.
"Let me go!"
Drake's first thought was to run or hide just like he'd tried to do during his father's outbursts when he was younger. In one second flat, his entire body was filled with fear. Hearing someone yell was enough to send him into a panic attack and hearing two grown men yell while physical boundaries were being crossed made things even scarier. He stood with the intent to go to his room or out the front door or anything, but somehow, he ended up in the kitchen.
"What the hell's the matter with you?!" Ricardo exclaimed.
"Oh, now you wanna know?!" Julio said bitterly.
"What do you mean now? I asked you the other day and you blew me off."
"I've been this way for months and you just noticed two days ago?!"
"Guys—" Drake started, but Julio kept going.
"That's funny. If Drake would've started acting differently, you would've noticed in seconds!"
"Well, maybe that's because Drake actually tells me when something's bothering him!"
He didn't like his name being brought up. It looked like the two Santos brothers were getting heated. Both stood taller and tougher and they were getting closer and closer. Someone was going to start throwing punches and it was probably going to be Julio. He's clearly been drinking.
"Guys, come on." Drake got in between them and pushed them apart.
"Oh, yeah, right, because Drake's so honest, isn't he?" Julio spat. "He must tell you all of his secrets, huh?!"
"Julio..." the separator said quietly.
"You're the only one keeping secrets in this house!" Ricardo retorted.
"You think so? Because last I checked, Drake's the one who fed you that bullshit story about some girl's boyfriend beating the shit out of him! Not me! I'm not the only fucking liar in this house!"
"Julio, come on. You're drunk," Drake tried.
"You're drunk?!" Ricky exclaimed.
Maybe it hadn't been as obvious as Drake had originally thought.
"That's two days in a row!"
"Actually," Julio corrected, "it's more like three months in a row. Geez, you're so fucking blind!"
The look of shock and anger on Ricardo's face scared their twenty-two year old roommate.
"But you know who knew how often I was drinking?" Julio wore a grin. It was like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment and it had finally come. "Drake."
"Julio, stop."
"No, no, come on. He thinks you're so honest! Let's fucking tell him what kind of person you really are! You lie more than both of us put together!"
The young man's fingers started to shake and alarms were going off in his head. He was in deep shit.
"So tell him, Drake! Tell him how you caught me drinking at the hospital! Tell him about when I brought a bottle of whiskey home and you saw it when I stopped by your room! Tell him how I clearly needed help and you just got up and slammed the door in my face so you could get high on fucking cough medicine! TELL HIM!"
Drake was crying now. He no longer felt like he needed to separate the two brothers. Instead, it was almost like Julio needed to be held back from attacking him. The boy took a few steps back, but was stopped when he came into contact with the kitchen island.
"I'm sorry," he said to his long-time best friend.
"And while we're at it, why don't we tell him about the day I beat the shit out of you, huh?! Tell him how you let me get behind the wheel after I'd been drinking all day!"
His voice came out weak. "I tried—"
"And then I called you from jail, right?! You couldn't pay to bail me out because my brother had your money, didn't he?! So you went out of your way to hide this from him for me! You borrowed hundreds of dollars from your friends knowing that I could never pay you back because I blew all my school money after I dropped out! Oh, yeah! There's another thing we kept from my brother! How many does that make now?!"
Drake finally gained the courage to meet Ricardo's eyes. He clearly felt betrayed and furious and this filled the boy with guilt.
"I'm sorry," he begged. "I'm sorry. I can explain."
The man shook his head. He had nothing more to say to either of the two liars. He turned and marched up the stairs. Seconds later, his bedroom door slammed so loud that Drake flinched.
"Why would you do that?" he asked pitifully.
"Because he's my brother. You took him away from me, so now I'm taking him away from you. You weaseled your way into this family and you don't belong here. Your own family didn't want you. What makes you think we do?"
Drake's heart sank so fast that it took his breath away. All he could do was stand there stunned and weeping pathetically until Julio's scary voice snapped him out of his pity party.
"Didn't you hear me?! GO! Fucking go!"
Drake flinched, then stumbled when he was shoved. Julio forced him out the front door using his threatening voice to guide him that way, then he stood outside alone.
Alice squinted with concern when she saw a figure sitting on her doorstep. She pulled the key out of the ignition, then got out of the car. "Drake?"
He was still crying. "Can I come in?"
"Of course." She went past him and searched her key-chain for her house key.
"I'm sorry. I know you've been out all day running errands and you're tired. Sorry."
"It's okay." She pushed the door open, then waved for him to enter and led him into the dining room. "You hungry? You want me to make you something to eat?"
"I'm okay. Thank you."
She motioned for him to take a seat when she did and she noticed him wipe his eyes. "What happened? Who did that to your face?"
"There was a fight. Ricky started yelling at Julio because he found out that Julio was the one who hit me and then Julio started yelling at Ricky and then me and then Ricky stormed off and Julio kicked me out."
"Hey, slow down. Just take a breath," she said. "So Julio did this to you?" After Drake nodded, she asked, "Why?"
"Because he wanted to go somewhere and he was trashed, so I took his keys and dropped them down the drain, but he had a spare and left anyway after knocking me out and then he got arrested and I had to get him. He made me promise not to tell his brother, so I didn't, but then he told Ricky everything and now they both hate me."
Alice got it now. "They don't hate you."
"I lied to Ricky after swearing I wouldn't anymore." He wiped the fresh tears from his eyes. "And Julio hates me so much he threw me against the wall the other day and threatened to kill me."
"I don't understand why he would do that. You two have been best friends since I've known you."
"He was drunk. He's been drinking a lot lately. Everyday. He's not a fun drunk. He gets like my dad. He blames me because I keep putting him through so much stress with my trauma and relapses and overdoses and suicide attempts and I know he's right, so I've straightened up, but I feel like I waited too long and the damage is already done." Drake leaned on the table and rested his head in his palms. "When I was out there ruining my life, I didn't realize I was ruining his, too."
"Are you sure you don't want me to come inside with you?" Alice asked as she turned onto the street where the Santos brothers' house was located.
"I'm sure," Drake said.
"And you don't want me to wait outside?"
"I don't know how long it'll take. It'll be okay. If things get bad, I'll leave. I'm just gonna go in and try to find some kind of compromise. If he still says he wants me gone, then I'll go."
She flipped on her blinker and turned into the driveway. Outside, they saw a couple white garbage bags filled up with Drake's clothes and some other belongings. There were also some other things scattered around the yard, like books and movies and the outer space snow globe he'd gotten for his birthday. The young man sighed.
"If you have to leave, where do you plan on going?"
"I don't know yet. I might be able to couch-hop between Gemini's and Theo's for a little while. I'll figure it out if it gets to that."
"Well, you can stay with me and my husband if you need to. Neither of us wanna see you back on the streets."
Drake was blown away. Just years ago, he'd sat in her class and they had hated each other's guts. Now they could potentially be roommates. He loved having her as a friend rather than a foe. It had been nice getting to know this side of her these past couple months. She reminded him of his mom. She was so caring and nurturing that he couldn't remember how he'd ever grown to despise her.
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
Alice was a little surprised herself when he leaned in for a hug. She hugged him back, then gave him an optimistic smile. "You'll call me later and let me know if things worked out?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She nodded. "I'm proud of you for coming to me. There was a number of other places you could've gone, but you made the right choice."
Drake's heart filled with warmth. He smiled back, then thanked her for the ride and got out of the car. Alice waved before backing out of the driveway and going down the road. He would've liked the support, but he didn't know if things would get violent between himself and Julio. He didn't want to put his former teacher in a position like the one where she'd had to save him from Dev back at the motel.
Ricardo's car was gone. He'd probably left for his date super early because he couldn't stand to be in that house with a bunch of liars. Drake couldn't blame him. He wasn't sure how he could ever earn the man's trust back now, but he felt confident that his friend still loved him. He'd had his doubts earlier, but Mrs. Hayfer had reminded him about what Ricky told him back at the hospital. He'd promised that he'd never be mad enough to want Drake to hurt himself or ruin his life.
Drake left his belongings on the lawn because he figured he'd be kicked out anyway. There was really no reasoning with Julio when he was like this. Drake knew this from experience, having dealt with his alcoholic father for so long. As he walked up the driveway, he saw his two kittens. Macaulay was laying in Drake's smoking chair and Agent Jack Bauer was pawing at the bushes next to the steps. He understood Julio tossing out his shit, but his cats? That was low. He picked them up and took them inside. He'd grab his backpack and put them inside if he ended up having to leave.
Once he stepped through the door, his nose turned up at the scent that immediately hit his nostrils. Maybe that's why Julio had put the cats outside. There was definitely poop somewhere nearby.
Drake went up the foyer steps and checked Julio's room and the bathroom, then he started down the staircase that led to the kitchen. Once he turned the corner, he saw his friend laying at the bottom of the staircase. "Shit!"
Drake raced down the steps. This is definitely where the smell was coming from. Julio had shit himself and there was piss all down one side of his pants. Even with such severe stenches, Drake could still distinctly smell alcohol. The boy reeked of it. Drake's guitar was laying near his friend's feet, which were wrapped in the strap. He must've drunkenly tripped trying to carry it downstairs and toss it out.
"Gggll."
"Oh my God." Drake didn't know what to do. He started to reach for him, then stopped because he wasn't sure if he had any broken bones and if he should move him. However, he decided that it was best because he was choking on his own puke. He turned Julio onto his side and started scooping the vomit out for him.
Still, he wasn't breathing, so he pounded on his back. Luckily, this worked. Julio was breathing, but it was incredibly slowly and he still had a bluish tint around his lips. Drake wiped his hand off on his shirt, then grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and called the police. He told them what had happened and gave them the address and the dispatcher stayed on the line with him until paramedics showed. As they put Julio on a stretcher, Drake called Ricardo, but got nothing. He called a second time, but received no answer.
Drake Parker: plez call me
He started to put his phone back in his pocket, but then he cleaned it off after noticing the vomit and he washed his hands. When he still didn't get a call back, even though it had been a short period of time since his text, he sighed and searched through his phone again, but for a different person: Dee.
"Please, please," Drake whispered to himself.
To his surprise, Dee actually picked up on the sixth ring. "Hey." His voice expressed that he didn't want to be rude, but he was clearly irritated.
"Hey, um, you're with Ricky?" He sniffled and his fingers were shaking.
"We're on a date."
"Can I talk to him really quick?"
"He's asking for you." There was a pause, then, "He doesn't really wanna talk to you right now."
"Can you just put him on, please? Something happened."
"I think it's important."
There was some rattling as the phone moved from one hand to another, then Ricardo said, "What?"
"Um, I just came home and found Julio passed out on the floor and he was choking on his vomit, so I got him to breathe again and I called an ambulance and now we're going to the hospital."
The anger left his voice and was replaced with worry. "Oh my God. Is he okay?"
"He's breathing, but it looks like he fell down the stairs and they think he could've broken something."
"Jesus!"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know this is all happening at a bad time. I didn't wanna have to call you—"
"It's okay. I'm glad you did. Where are you?"
"I'm still at the house. They're gonna let me ride to the hospital in the ambulance."
"Alright, I'm gonna meet you there."
"Okay. Call me when you get there."
"I will."
Drake stood when he heard the door open. It was Ricardo, which he expected since he'd just asked what room number they were in. Dee tagging along was a surprise, though.
"Hey, how is he?" the man said quietly.
"They said he'll be okay. He has alcohol poisoning, so they have him hooked up to an IV for fluids and they're giving him oxygen because he's breathing really slowly."
The man nodded. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I guess I'm just a little shaken up." He accepted Ricardo's embrace and felt comfort. After they separated, he looked at Dee. "I'm sorry I ruined your date."
"Don't be."
"So what happened?"
"I went back to try and talk things out with Julio and figure out if he really wanted me to leave or not before it got dark and I found him at the bottom of the stairs choking on his vomit, so I turned him on his side and got him breathing again and then called the police."
"Damn, you got there at just the right time," Dee said.
Or three months too late, Drake thought.
"What did you mean when you said you were gonna ask him if he really wanted you to leave?" Ricardo questioned.
"After the whole argument, he kicked me out and told me not to come back."
"You know he didn't mean that."
"Apparently he did. My shit's all over the front lawn."
"Really?"
"Yeah, he hates me."
"He doesn't hate you."
Drake nodded. "He does. He's been telling me for months."
"What?" He was shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?"
The young man was cradling himself, feeling comfort as he hugged his small frame. "I didn't want you to get mad at him. He has every right to feel that way after everything I've done. I thought that maybe I could fix things after I got out of the hospital, but things just got worse and worse until it got to the point where he can't even stand to be in the same room as me."
Ricardo then realized he couldn't remember the last time he had seen the two boys together. "Why is he mad at you?"
"Because of everything I've done and how selfish I've been. He said I took you away from him and that I ruined his life. That's why, back at the hospital, I started snapping at you a lot and why I wanted to be left alone. I wanted you two to get back the relationship I got in the way of. Learning how to rely on myself is something I've been trying to work on lately because I know I take up a lot of attention, but I think it's too late now. He doesn't wanna be my friend anymore."
Ricardo sighed and walked past him to sit down on one of the chairs. "I don't know how I missed all this. I have no idea what's been going on in my own house. You told me some random guy beat you up, for Christ's sake, but all this time, it was my brother."
"I'm sorry. He asked me not to tell and I guess...I guess old instincts kicked in."
"What have I been missing? Fights, drunk driving, jail, quitting school — what's going on?"
"Well, this week has just been worse than others. When you went out with Dee Sunday, Julio fell down the stairs, but he was fine. He just had a bump on his head. I kept trying to talk to him about his drinking and he threw me up against the wall and threatened to kill me. The next day, I took his keys because he was trying to drive and that's when he beat me up. I managed to drop the keys down the drain in the sink, but he knocked me unconscious and found a spare. When I came to, he was calling from jail and that's when he told me he'd flunked out of school. I borrowed some money and bailed him out and he asked me not to tell you. I don't know why I listened. I guess I thought that maybe I could help him, so I didn't wanna break his trust. He doesn't want my help, though, because I just come off as a hypocrite when I try to talk about how his addiction is hurting him."
"I can't believe you kept all this from me."
"I know. I made a big mistake that could've cost him his life. I'm sorry."
They stopped talking about it for a long time. Dee sat in the chair next to Ricardo and the two spoke quietly amongst themselves while Drake squatted and rested his back against a wall, far enough away from them so that he couldn't hear. He kept his head low with guilt as he thought back on all the wrong choices he had made in his friendship with Julio. It was an hour or so later when Ricardo stood and crossed the room, then squatted down next to Drake. He said nothing, so Drake was first to break the silence.
"I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry I lied."
"I know. We can discuss it at home."
"I feel bad about your date. You guys broke up because I was getting in the way and now it's the same thing, but with Julio added to the mix. You're always taking care of everyone and you never have any time for yourself."
"Don't worry about it. I'm going to start making time." There was more silence, then, "I don't want you to move out."
"I know. I think maybe it'll be a good thing. You and Julio could spend more time together and I know you can actually help him sober up like you did me. I was in over my head and had no idea what I was doing, but you're really good at it."
"Where would you go?"
"Mrs. Hayfer said I could stay with her."
"Hey," came Dee's voice, "I think he's waking up."
Julio was starting to move his legs and stretch them out while still mostly asleep, but he would definitely be awake soon.
"I'm gonna go." Drake stood and Ricardo did the same.
"Why?"
"He doesn't wanna see me right now. Besides, he'll be more receptive to what you have to say about getting sober without me here."
Ricardo couldn't argue with this logic.
"I'll take you home," said Dee. He felt that this was a time for the brothers to be alone.
"Thanks."
They said their goodbyes and the two men got on the elevator. As they walked towards the parking garage, they ran into Mrs. Santos. Ricardo had called their parents earlier and both were on the way. Drake told her that Julio would be okay and gave her the room number, then they separated.
"Do you mind if I smoke, like, half a cigarette before we go?" Drake asked. He'd been dying for one since back at the house. "I'll just take a minute."
"Yeah, go ahead."
The young man went towards the back of the car, which was up against the wall since Dee has backed into the space. He was one of those parkers who always backed in. He ducked behind the trunk and leaned back against the wall as he lit up. He'd been to the hospital enough times to know that they had security driving golf carts around the parking lots and deck and smoking was prohibited here.
"I'm sorry about the date," Drake apologized again. "Was everything going well before I called, though?"
Dee leaned his hip against the gas tank and crossed his arms. "Yeah, it was nice. I mean, we only got through the appetizer, but still. It was a good first date."
"I feel so bad."
"Don't. Sometimes things just happen. I'm not mad," Dee said. "So I noticed Allie pull you aside at rehearsals yesterday. Didn't really look like the conversation was going well."
"Yeah, she says I haven't been performing well and that even my voice isn't the same as it was during auditions," said Drake. "And she's right. I kinda relapsed a couple days before rehearsals started and I was using everyday again. It went on for a week before I cleaned up, but when I use like that, I get really monotone and kinda like a zombie. Getting any emotion out at all is practically impossible. I don't know. You heard how I was singing that week. It was pretty shit. She got onto me then, too."
"Did you relapse again yesterday or something?"
"No, I spent the night at my friend's and we stayed up playing this video game. I was dead tired yesterday. I didn't think it was that noticeable. It definitely wasn't as bad as before, but Allie pulled me to the side and yelled at me." Drake put out his cigarette on the concrete, then put the other half back in the pack for later and pushed himself up. "You ready to go?"
"I've heard from some people who have worked with her on other productions before that she can get really nasty." He got into the front seat.
"Oh, yeah. She has a very colorful vocabulary." Drake closed the door after he was seated. "She's like the female version of my dad, but when she insults you, she doesn't just call you names. She gets really creative with it. She says the weirdest shit."
"What did she say?"
"She said I sucked and that she regretted casting me and she called me a cock-wielding turd-sock."
Dee's jaw dropped open and he was speechless for a moment. "Oh my God. What does that even mean?"
He expected the driver to laugh at the absurdity and he had been prepared to laugh, too, but Dee just seemed shocked and disgusted, which was the reaction that Drake didn't know he needed. "It kinda hurt my feelings," he admitted softly. "I explained to her that I was having trouble sleeping and she was all like, 'Maybe if you pulled your boyfriend's dick out of your mouth every once in a while, you could fall asleep' and then she called me a shit-ass cum-junkie."
"Jesus, what did you say?"
"I just said yes, ma'am. I didn't know what else to say. I freeze up when people start yelling at me."
"I can not believe she said that to you."
"It was fine last week when I was using because the drugs numbed me up, but now I've just gotten clean, so my emotions are already all over the place without her shitting all over me."
"I think you should tell one of the other directors. She doesn't have the right to speak to you like that."
"I don't really wanna make any waves," Drake said. "I'm just gonna keep my head down and try not to piss her off."
"Well, if you change your mind and wanna speak out, I can go with you and offer moral support."
"Thanks. That's really kind of you."
Dee furrowed his brows. "Well, don't act so surprised."
"No, I'm — I mean—"
The man laughed.
"I know you're a nice person. I just — I didn't expect you to be so forgiving so quickly."
"It's cool. Don't worry about it." Dee glanced at the clock on his dashboard. "Geez, it's late. I'm hungry. Wanna stop somewhere and pick up something to eat on the way home?"
"I'll just eat at home. You go ahead, though."
The man knew that this meant he didn't have cash on him. "I'll buy and then you can get lunch one day during rehearsals."
"Okay. Thanks," he said. "I have money. It's just that Ricky holds on to it as part of our new agreement. I have to let him know when I wanna buy something and bring back a receipt."
"That doesn't sound fun."
"It's not," said Drake, "but it's only temporary. I get more and more freedom as I earn back his trust." After a moment, he added, "I know it sounds pathetic, but it helps...both of us. It makes my access to drugs a little more challenging and it makes him worry less."
"No, I get it. I think it's a good idea."
"It's like we both just realized how much our friendship is getting in the way of our other relationships. Because of me, he was neglecting you and Julio and I spent so many years relying on him when it came to all my shit that I never really learned how to cope with anything by myself."
"So he's been holding that weight for the both of you?" Dee asked.
"Yeah. Three years ago after he found me living with my supplier and basically doing whatever he wanted just so I could stay high, Ricky literally forced me to clean up. Like, I had no choice. There were bars on my window and everything. We were attached at the hip back then. If we were in the living room watching a movie and I wanted to grab something to drink, he would follow me to the kitchen and back. I couldn't go anywhere by myself. He saved my life, but now I'm not so helpless anymore. I cleaned up by myself this time. I admitted to what I had been doing and now he holds on to my money, but that's not to keep me sober. If I wanted it bad enough, I know some men who would give me the money for it. Ricky keeping my money is so that he feels better, so when he's off doing his own thing, he's not worrying about me doing dumb shit. This is the first time since I started using six years ago that I made the decision to clean up on my own and actually did it. I stay up crying all night a lot, but then in the morning, I feel...like...stronger."
"Damn. That's really good."
"The last time I remember being proud of myself was when I signed up for a library card and that was, like, four and a half months ago. It feels nice to be doing something beneficial for myself again."
Dee gave him an encouraging nod and a smile, then put his eyes back on the road. "I'm really happy you're getting it together."
"So maybe we can start our friendship over — pretend I wasn't the guy who ditched his best friends to propose to some girl after a week of living with her only to be the last one to find out that she was playing me for a fool and then trying to fuck my best friend's boyfriend and then running off to go kill myself afterwards? Maybe we can forget all that?"
"Deal." After a moment, he laughed. "Remember that day you came over to my house for the first time and I kicked your ass in MarioKart—"
"We tied."
"Nah, you cheated," then Dee continued. "And I started telling you about how you seemed like such a 'chill dude.'"
Drake started laughing, too. "You know, I thought about warning you, but it's like going through a fun-house. It's not fun if you already know when all the crazy stuff is gonna happen."
"Is that what you call it? Fun?"
"Shut up."
The two boys stopped for food, then Dee dropped him off at his house, muttering a swear word when he saw Drake's belongings strewn all over the yard. Without asking, he got out and helped him pick it up, then he received a thanks and headed home. The young man finished up that other half of his cigarette plus one, then he pushed open the front door. He moved all of his things in the foyer and left them against the wall. At least Julio had helped him pack somewhat. Drake spoke to his cats when they ran to greet him and he rubbed the tops of their heads, then he went into the kitchen to clean up the puddle of urine at the bottom of the stairs. When all that was done, Drake showered just in case he had to leave and wouldn't get the chance to again, then he laid down and went right to sleep.
"Hey, I'm at lunch now," Drake said into his cell phone. Smoke left his mouth as he spoke.
"How are rehearsals going?"
"Better today."
"Good. You bought Dee's lunch?"
"Yeah."
"And kept the receipt?"
"Yeah, it's in my wallet so I don't lose it."
"Good."
"How's Julio?"
"We're waiting for someone to bring the release forms and then we're gonna head home."
"I haven't had the chance to talk to Gem yet about staying with him." The more he thought about it, the more he realized how awkward living with Mr. Hayfer would be. He'd definitely take his wife up on her offer if it came down to it, but he wanted to explore more options first.
"Why don't you hold off on that for a while?" Ricardo said. "I think we need to all get together and discuss everything first. I don't think Julio wants you to go. I've been talking to him about everything you told me and he said he can remember bits and pieces, but it's all just a blur. He seemed genuinely upset when I told him how he's been treating you."
"But he wanted me gone when he was drunk and you know how brutally honest drunk people are."
"I just think we all need to stick together. We can work this out."
Drake sighed. He was quiet for a moment, then he said, "I just don't think I'm good for him."
"Are you kidding me? You're exactly who he needs right now. You know exactly what he's going through. You can teach him much more than I can because you've actually lived through it."
"He doesn't wanna hear that shit from me, Ricky. He doesn't wanna believe that he was on the same road that I was and that he could've become that guy pimping himself out at the truck stop. You know your brother's got a lot of pride."
"Hey, the doctor just walked in, so I have to go, but look. Don't ask Gemini yet, okay? Let's at least discuss this over dinner. I'll order some take-out and all three of us can sit down and figure out how we're going from here."
"Alright, fine."
"Okay. Oh, and Dee's gonna bring you home today. Is that okay?"
"Yeah."
"See you at home."
"See ya." Drake hung up and put his phone away, then put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the trash can lid and went back inside. He found the table where a group of eleven Rent cast members were seated and he took the spot next to Dee.
"How's Julio?" the man said quietly as not to interrupt the conversation that was going on between the others.
"He's coming home today."
"You don't seem really happy about it."
"No, I am. I'm just — Ricky wants do to this whole family meeting thing. Julio's not gonna say how much he hates me in front of his brother and he's not gonna tell me to leave, but we both know he wants me gone. Shit's just gonna build back up until the next explosion. I just feel like I should go."
"Maybe it'll be different this time."
Drake only shrugged.
"Did he tell you I'm your ride home today?"
"Yeah."
"Hey, Dee," someone a couple seats down said, "what was that joke you told me earlier? Layla wants to hear it."
The man's attention was pulled in another direction, so Drake picked up his fork and started eating his mandarin oranges. He was a little jealous of how easily Dee talked to everyone here. He used to be like that back in school, but that had all changed somehow and having to speak to strangers made him feel anxious.
"So, Drake."
He couldn't hear the girl next to him because she had put her hand on his shoulder. The second she did this, a thousand unwanted memories protruded his mind and he flinched.
"Sorry, did I scare you?" It was the girl who played Mimi. Her nickname was Sal.
"Sorry," Drake stuttered as he pulled himself back to the present. He couldn't stop himself from rolling his shoulder, not-so-subtly brushing her hand away. He immediately felt rude and embarrassed, but he hated unexpected touches. "I was just — my mind was somewhere else," was his excuse for freaking out. He swore that she leaned closer ever so slightly.
"You don't talk much," she said.
"I'm..." He shrugged.
"So you're shy now?"
Now? "We...?"
"Went to high school together?" she finished. "Yeah."
"Oh... Right." He shook his head and blinked his eyes as if he now recalled this.
She laughed. "It's okay. You don't have to pretend you remember me. I wouldn't expect you to. I was that dorky kid with glasses and acne and a hundred extra pounds. Guys like you never noticed girls like me." She definitely didn't look the same now. She was thin, had clear skin and wore contacts. She was Puerto Rican and her skin was dark. Her black hair was long and wavy and she wore clothes that showed off a lot of skin.
"Oh, I'm..." He felt even more anxious. "I'm sorry." Apologizing made him feel awkward. "I was a dick in high school. You look good now, though." The fact that she had touched him had thrown him off and he was rambling on more than normal, digging himself into a deeper hole. "Not that you didn't then. I'm sure you looked good then, too. I just mean...um..."
Her eyes squinted with amusement as she grinned. "It's okay," she said. "So you're not as smooth as you used to be."
Drake looked down at his oranges. He felt his cheeks getting hot with embarrassment and those familiar memories of his father came back when she touched his shoulder again. So many emotions were rushing through him at once and he felt embarrassed.
"Don't worry about it. Everyone changes after high school."
He felt like she was getting closer still and there was less air to breathe."
"So how are things now? What did you do after graduation?"
He never graduated. He spent the time he was supposed to be studying with Mindy getting high with her and fucking her instead. Back then, while his classmates were packing for college, he was just trying to survive life with his father.
It was getting hard to breathe, but he couldn't leave her question unanswered. However, he had been stuck in his own mind and really couldn't comprehend the meaning to the words she had asked. "Um..." He was starting to sweat.
Sal's brows furrowed. "Are you okay?"
Her hand moved across his back. It was innocent, like she was offering comfort. She was just the kind of person who touched and hugged often, but all Drake could feel was Martin pushing on his back to bend him over the kitchen counter before tearing his clothes off. He yanked away from her and jumped onto his feet so suddenly that he almost knocked his chair over. The table went silent and all eyes were on him.
"Sorry. Um..." Water was building up in his eyes and everyone was seeing this and Drake couldn't breathe. "I have to go."
With that, he bolted towards the door, then turned towards the side parking lot. He found Dee's car and, since it was locked, he leaned against it and bent his knees until he was on his bottom, hidden from the world. Here, he broke down. Flashbacks of being pinned down played in his head. He could hear his father shushing him and calling him names as if he were right next to him. He felt a weight on top of him that kept him from breathing. The young man choked out a few sobs. He pulled his knees closer to his chest to make himself small. He rested his elbows on his knees as he brushed through and pulled at his hair.
Shut the fuck up, you fucking faggot. We both know you're enjoying this. I saw how much you came last time. Enough to put out a damn forest fire.
Drake's back jerked as more sobs left him. He covered his red hot face with shame. He could remember trying to straighten, then being shoved forwards again, harder this time.
The fuck do you think you're going? You think you're tough? You're not. You're weak. You think you're stronger than me? Try it. Go ahead. Try it. See? You can't do shit. I control you. You do what I want. Now keep still, you pathetic fucking bitch, or you'll get a whole fist up your ass. You want me to do that again?
Nooo...
No, what?
No, sir.
Huh?!
No, sir. Please...
Then you keep fucking still, you cock-sucking little fuck.
Dee jogged to the corner of the building and slowed down when he saw the parking lot. He glanced around and saw no one. When he found Drake, it was because he heard him growling through clenched teeth.
"Hey, what happened?" he asked.
The young man gasped for air and clenched his fists so tight in his hair that his knuckles turned white.
Dee pulled out his phone, then immediately called his boyfriend, who answered on the third ring.
"Hey." He was already concerned because it was strange for the man to call while with Drake since Ricky had just talked to Drake.
"Hey, I think Drake's having a panic attack. I don't know what to do."
"Shit. Okay, put him on the phone."
"Hey, Drake. It's Ricardo. He wants to talk to you."
The boy didn't take the phone. He didn't even seem to acknowledge him.
"He's gonna help you calm down, okay?" After a moment, he said, "He's not taking it."
"Put me on speaker," Ricardo said.
Dee did. "Alright, you're on."
"Drake, it's Ricardo. I know you're going through a tough time right now, but me and Dee are gonna help you out, okay?"
The scared young man's growling and moaning and crying got even louder.
"Look, I want you to start breathing with me, okay? Follow my lead, alright. Breathe in... Try to hold it... And out. Let's try again. In—"
The sun was shining bright and birds were chipping, cars were speeding by on the main road, sprinklers were squeaking. Too much was going on and the scratchy sound of Ricardo's voice on speaker wasn't helping at all, so Drake violently slapped Dee's hand, sending the phone flying across the concrete.
"That's not helping," Dee told his boyfriend after he retrieved his cell phone and took it off speaker.
The man paused. "Where are you?"
"We're in the parking lot of Subway."
"Okay, I'm two exits away. I'm gonna come down there."
Dee could tell that he was already on the move.
Through the phone, Ricardo could hear Drake's growls turn into throaty yells that were only muffled by his teeth. "Do you think you can get him in the car and meet me in the middle?"
"I can try."
"Okay, just take a right when you get off the exit and take another right on the first road you come to. There's this empty unpaved lot on the side of the road."
"Two rights. Got it."
"And don't touch him, okay?"
"I won't."
"Alright, I'll see you in a minute."
"Okay."
After they hung up the phone, Dee went back over to his friend and squatted down in front of him. "Drak-"
"GUUUGGHHH!"
"Drake, we're gonna go meet Ricardo, okay? He's gonna help you. I need you to get in the car."
The boy made no movements.
"Ricardo always helps you through these, right? If we go now, we'll be there in five minutes and then this will all be over and you'll feel much better. Can we do that?"
His fit continued, but he did nod his head.
"Alright, can you stand? Do you need help up?"
Instead of grabbing him, he held out his hand for Drake to take if he needed it. He did. He opened the back door so he'd have more space and the young man got in. Dee hurried around to the other side of the car and saw Drake hitting the back of the passenger's seat. Apparently, he didn't have enough space. The driver reached over and pressed a lever to make the seat fold up, then he moved his hand to the bar under the front of the seat and scooted it up. This gave Drake space to hunch over and hide his head between his knees as he continued to scream uncontrollably.
When they made it to the lot, Ricardo was already there. Rocks crackled underneath the tires as Dee pulled in. It was literally just an abandoned parking lot. There were no buildings or anything around at all.
Ricky opened the door almost before the car came to a stop. "Hey, Drake." Despite how frantic the situation was, he spoke calmly, which was really important. "You wanna come sit out here and get some air?"
He did. The car felt small and made him claustrophobic. He got out and leaned against the metal. Dee hung back to give them space, but he watched closely so that he wasn't so clueless if this ever happened again. He noticed that Ricardo kept his distance and that he got down on a knee despite the rocks so that he was at eye level.
"I brought this to help."
It was a large hospital cup. It was Julio's, but Ricardo must've taken it. It had ice inside because he remembered Drake telling him about the technique Samantha had used to help him through an anxiety attack.
Drake took the ice cube that Ricardo passed him and squeezed it in his hand. The man talked to him and breathed with him and when the cold became unbearable, he moved the ice cube to his other hand. It took around five minutes just to get Drake to stop screeching and about twenty to fully calm him.
"Talk to me. How ya doing?"
His voice came out almost inaudibly as he weakly hung his head. "Good." He definitely wasn't doing good, so Ricardo knew that this was a lie.
"Why don't we try some more ice?"
Drake took some and put it on his face instead. It was a hot July day and the sun was beating right down on him.
"I have some water in the car. Do you wanna pour some water on your face to cool off?"
Drake nodded.
"Babe, can you grab that bottle of water out of the cup holder?"
Dee did and passed it over to him. It was still chilled because he had just gotten it out of the vending machine just before receiving the call. He poured it on Drake's face for him since the boy still couldn't do much along the lines of thinking or moving.
"Don't think about it. Just answer this question without replaying in your head what led up to your panic attack. Do you wanna talk about it?" Ricardo had learned that asking this kind of question without warning could start the entire attack over again and he had found that this was the best way to word it because Drake's brain was always tired and barely working afterwards, so if the man told him not to think, he wouldn't.
"No."
"Alright. Here, drink some of this water." He handed the bottle to him and Drake obeyed.
"Sorry to pull you away from the hospital." The boy's voice was phlegmatic.
"Don't worry about it."
"I don't think the medicine's working."
"Let's talk about that later, okay?" Since both of the sentences Drake had spoken were things that could lead to a repeat attack, he chose the next subject. "Was that enough water or do you need some more?" It wasn't much of a conversation starter, but it would put the young man in the present rather than the past or future and would focus on basic survival instincts, which wasn't something Drake really had to think about too much in order to make a decision.
"Do you have more?"
"I don't, but there's a gas station right up the road. I can get some or we can all go together."
"I have a bottle in my car," Dee offered. He got it for them and Ricardo thanked him.
Drake felt like he had just had an intense workout in the hot sun, so he was dying of thirst. After he swallowed that water down, he said, "I'm feeling better now."
"That's good." Ricardo was pouring with sweat, but he acted as though it didn't bother him.
"We're late." He was talking about rehearsals, but they actually had another fifteen minutes.
"That's okay. You don't have to rush to get back. You can just go when you feel like it or you can come back with me and we'll pick up Julio and go home.
Rehearsals sounded less daunting. "I'll get in trouble if I leave early without saying."
"That's okay. I can call them or Dee can tell them when he goes back."
"I'll go."
"Are you sure?"
Drake nodded.
After a couple more minutes, Drake stood and got into the passenger's side of Dee's car. He waiting inside while the couple talked. Ricardo thanked his boyfriend for responding so quickly before things got too out of control. He appreciated him having Drake's back and for calling him. He gave the man a kiss before they both separated and left.
The drive back to the theater was silent. Despite being stopped by what felt like every red light possible, they made it back right on time. Drake had to pee after his anxiety attack, so he went into the bathroom and relieved himself, then he washed his hands and splashed water on his face. Even that didn't bring him out of his trance. He felt like a zombie. He was so exhausted that his feet dragged as he walked, but his heart was still beating fast. He still felt nervous, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been.
When Drake got to their rehearsal space, Allie was working with those who played Mimi and Roger, including their understudies. Right now, the understudy for Mimi was standing without a partner. When Drake joined her, he received a glare from Allie.
"Nice of you to finally join us."
Sal turned and looked in his direction with furrowed brows. She had no idea what had happened to him at lunch and where he had disappeared to. Drake avoided her eyes.
"Okay, so," the girl named Hollie said as she passed the phone back to Dee, "just text me and let me know when you're free and we can hang out."
He was in a group of about five people who were all exchanging numbers. Hollie continued to speak to him, but his attention was on Allie, who was approaching Drake on the other side of the practice room like she was on some kind of mission.
"I think it would be great for the whole cast to get together and hang out more often," the girl was saying. "We'll become one big family, just like the characters we're playing."
Dee could tell that Allie wasn't happy although he could only see one half of her face. After a moment, he saw Drake wipe his eyes, then hang his head.
"That's a good idea, right?" Hollie said.
"Um...right. Excuse me."
Without even so much as glancing at her, he broke away from the group and crossed the rehearsal space. The one-sided conversation was over between Allie and Drake, so Drake headed out of the large room. Dee jogged after him and entered the main hall just in time to see the bathroom door close. He moved in that direction, then tried to walk inside, but it wouldn't budge. He knocked.
"Drake, it's me. Open the door."
The boy could be heard sighing. He sniffled and wiped the water from his eyes, then got up from his spot where he was sitting on the floor, blocking the door. He let Dee in.
"Hey, you about ready?" Drake was trying to act casual and as if he hadn't just been crying, but Dee's next question made him emotional all over again.
"What did Allie just say to you?"
He couldn't deny it because the man had clearly seen her yelling at him. "She just got onto me for being late and I tried to tell her that I was here. I was just in the bathroom, but she said if I'm not in the practice room, then I'm not here." He felt the lump in his throat growing bigger as more tears left his eyes. He wiped them away with frustration. "I don't know why I'm crying. It's so stupid."
"It's not stupid."
Clearly, Drake's emotions were all over the place today and the panic attack had left him feeling even more vulnerable than his normal self. On days like these, literally anything could upset him and when he got upset, he always started wishing that he were dead.
"Did she say something else?" Dee questioned.
He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "Just about my voice. She said it was fine earlier and then after lunch-" A sob broke through his lips as he replayed the horrible insults she had said to him. Today was one of those days where he couldn't stop seeing his father everywhere he went. Drake wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I'm sorry. This is so fucking embarrassing."
"Hey, you don't have to feel that way around me."
Drake sniffled, then moved over to the sink to splash water on his face. He took some breaths and sniffled some more. "Are you almost ready to go?"
"Yeah, I'm ready now."
Drake kept his head down as they went down the hallway and through the front doors. They received a few goodbyes on their way, but he never met anyone's eyes because he didn't want them to see that he'd been crying. He took a breath when he was finally in the sanctity of Dee's car.
"Sorry for rushing you," Drake apologized.
Before his meltdown, Dee had been chatting with a small group of cast members and he'd seemed to be enjoying himself. "It's okay. I was ready to get out of there anyway. My mom's coming to visit tonight and I have to clean the house."
"Thanks for taking the time to drive me home. I can give you gas money after I clear it with Ricky."
"Don't worry about it. It's really not too far out of the way."
"Are you on the schedule for tomorrow?" Drake asked.
They had a schedule for what characters needed to be at the theater each day.
"Yep. You?"
"No."
"That's good. You can take a day to rest and clear your head. Meditation can help."
"You meditate?"
"I do."
Drake shook his head and rolled his eyes as a small chuckle left him. Of course Mr. Perfect meditated. "I should've known."
"Shut the fuck up," Dee said lightly. "It's very calming."
"I don't meditate. I medicate." After a moment of silence, he looked at the driver. "That was a joke. I don't — I'm not still using."
"It's okay. I believe you."
"Ricky would be pissed if he heard me say that. He doesn't like my drug jokes. He always lectures me for them."
Dee laughed. "I can actually picture that."
"I was just born during the age where we all meme about our pain and make self-deprecating jokes. Ricky doesn't understand that."
"So you're saying he's old?"
"I mean..."
"You know he's only one year older than me, right?"
"Oof. You're getting old, too."
Dee scoffed. "Bitch."
Drake laughed.
Ricardo was standing outside after having asked Drake how far away they were. Dee pulled the car into his driveway and the man went over to his window as Drake got out of the car and lit a cigarette.
"Hey, cutie," he said flirtatiously, then he leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "How was your day?"
"Oh, you know. Pretty uneventful," he joked as he reached out the window and grasped his boyfriend's hand in his. "How long have you and your brother been here?"
"A couple hours. We've just been doing a lot of talking and planning. He said he'll start going to AA, so that's a win."
"You think it's all bullshit?"
Ricky sighed. "I think he's serious, but apparently I don't know him as well as I thought I did."
"How's he doing?"
"He goes back and forth with his emotions a bit. Hearing how close he came to dying really scared him."
"Yeah, I can't even imagine."
If Drake hadn't walked in when he did, Julio would've choked on his own vomit. Dee was so glad that his boyfriend didn't have to come home to find his little brother dead on the kitchen floor. Ricardo has been through so much lately. He was always being strong for other people and that's one of the things Dee liked about him.
"What about Drake? How did he do today? He looks like he's been crying again."
"Things were alright until rehearsals ended. Allie got onto him again and she can be horrible. He told me how she spoke to him and the names she's called him. I suggested going to one of the others, but he didn't want to. I think he's scared of her."
"Jesus." Ricky's brows furrowed with disbelief. "I'll try to talk to him about it. He just got clean. She's the last type of person he needs to be around."
"I told him I'd go with him for moral support if he wants to speak out, so let me know."
"Thanks, babe. You're the best," Ricardo said. "Our children are a hot mess today."
Dee laughed at this. It definitely felt like they were both parents tag-teaming their emotionally unstable kids. Ricky had watched over Julio and Dee had watched over Drake. They still took up a lot of the man's attention, but Dee was okay with that because he wasn't keeping secrets from him. They were in this together, which is what he'd wanted all along. He never minded the chaos and spontaneity, although it was a transition. He only ever wanted to be included. Being left in the dark had made him feel unimportant, but now things were better. They were partners.
"I love you," Dee said as he gave the man's hand a squeeze.
Ricardo smiled. "I love you, too."
He leaned in again and connected their lips. They stayed that way for much longer this time. Dee put his hand on the man's cheek. He wished Ricardo could forget about the two boys, hop in his car and come back home with him. He missed the way it felt to hold him close — the heat and electricity that rushed through him when they were tangled up in bed. It felt like it's been forever since they've touched each other like that.
Ricardo could tell that he was getting aroused by his heavy breaths and the sweat coating his skin and the way Dee's hand moved to the back of his head as if he was desperate to keep him close. He pulled back with a smirk.
"We're taking this slow. Remember?" It had been Dee's idea in the first place.
"I know. Sorry, I just... I miss you."
"I miss you, too. God, you have no idea how much I miss you."
"Believe me. I do."
"You know, what we could do..." Ricardo looked at the ground. He wore a smile that was both innocent and mischievous at the same time and Dee found it so adorable that he couldn't help but grin when he saw it.
"What's that?" he asked with intrigue.
"Maybe after I get the kids to bed, if you're up late..." He was rubbing the man's arm and his voice was slow and enticing. "...and I'm up late, and we're both gonna jerk off thinking about each other anyway..."
Dee hung onto every last word like it was the air that he breathed.
"...then maybe I can call you and we can do it together."
"Are you asking me for hot phone sex?"
"I might be." He smirked.
"Like we're back in high school."
"Mm-hmm," he said seductively.
"Except I was fucking my English teacher in high school.
"You can call me Mr. Santos if you want."
"Yeah?"
"Mm-hmm."
"And what if I've been a bad student?"
"Oh, you need to be punished, huh?"
"Yeah." He nodded and bit his lip as he gazed at Ricardo's lips. It took everything in him not to jump his bones right here in the middle of the driveway.
"Well, you make sure you bring a ruler to class and we can take care of that."
"You're gonna make me spank myself, Mr. Santos?"
"Well, you've gotta learn your lesson somehow, don't you?"
Dee grinned. He pulled his boyfriend's hands up to his mouth and kissed it. "Can't wait."
Ricardo hungrily connected their lips again. They stayed like this for a few more seconds before pulling apart.
"Eleven o'clock. Don't be late."
"Yes, sir."
Ricardo finally mustered up the strength to pull away from the vehicle. He turned to start up the driveway and as he did this, Dee reached out and smacked his ass. Ricky turned his head back to him with a grin and his boyfriend wore one just as large, then he put his car and reverse and backed out of the driveway.
Drake was putting out his finished cigarette in the ashtray as the man approached the porch steps where he was sitting. "Y'all cute."
"Shut up." He rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop smiling.
"So you made plans to fuck, huh?" he said as he stood.
"Were you eavesdropping?"
"No. I just figured since you were practically standing there humping the car door."
"Oh, fuck off," Ricky said. "You ready to go inside and have this family discussion?" He motioned towards the front door — not just to tell his friend to head inside, but also to tell him to stop being so annoying.
Of course, Drake wouldn't be Drake if he did that. He motioned for the older man to go ahead. "After you, Mr. Santos."
Ricardo looked at him and saw the giant smirk on his face. Apparently, he had overheard their phone sex plans and it embarrassed him. "Call me that again and I'll beat your ass." He was using his tough guy voice, which is something that had come in handy working at a bar.
"With a ruler?" Drake asked.
Ricardo playfully, yet roughly gave the boy a shove. It was so hard that it knocked him off the porch steps and onto the grass. He just managed to land on his feet with the help of his hand, which he used to balance himself once it touched the dirt. He was laughing hysterically now.
Despite how irritated Ricardo was, he was glad to hear that sound. However, he didn't show this. He just walked up the rest of the steps without looking back. "Just for that shit, you're doing dishes and taking out the trash tonight."
Sarcastically, he said, "Yes, sir, Mr. Santos, sir."
"Boy-"
Ricardo turned and stomped towards him. Drake was on his feet in an instant as he backed away. He knew he was in for it when the man came down the steps after him.
"Ricky, don't," he managed through his laughter. He jogged further away, but his roommate still came after him. "Stop! I'm just fucking with you, bruh."
There was nothing in between himself and Drake, but he couldn't just run straight at him. He had to let his friend make the first move. The young man faked left, then went right. Ricardo was light on his toes, so he was ready for this. He tackled him to the ground and got on top of him to keep him pinned.
"Get off!" His arm was folded behind his back and he couldn't move. However, he didn't have a single flashback or bad memory run through his head.
"Say mercy!"
"Fucking get off!"
"Say it!"
"No!"
Ricardo bent his arm even further.
"Ah!"
"You give up?"
"Fuck you!" Drake felt a sharp pain in his arm and although it really hurt, it was just playful roughhousing without any intentional violence. He trusted that Ricardo would stop if it got to the point where his past started to cloud his mind, but if that didn't happen, he knew he wasn't going to be let up until he admitted defeat. "You're gonna break my fucking arm!"
"Say mercy!"
Drake growled with aggravation, but he couldn't keep withholding when his arm was positioned in an even more uncomfortable position. "Okay! Okay! Mercy!"
Now it was Ricardo's turn to laugh while Drake was annoyed. He got off the boy, then held out his hand for him to take. He did, but he wasn't happy about it.
"Fucking asshole," Drake pouted. He often lost these things against both Ricky and his brother and it always made him mad afterwards.
"Aw, are you gonna cry about it now?" He wrapped an arm across his friend's shoulders and pulled the boy's head against his waist, trapping him while he gave him a noogie.
"Ow! Fuck, Ricky!" He tried to escape from the painful sensation of the man rubbing his knuckles against his scalp, but he couldn't get away until Ricardo allowed him to go. He backed away and combed his fingers through his hair to make it neater, then he fixed his shirt. "You're a dick."
"Well," the man shrugged, huffing tiredly now, "you are what you eat, right?"
Drake didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing him chuckle at his joke, but he couldn't stop himself. This made his roommate smile.
Ricky wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders again, but in a friendly way this time, and he led him towards the porch steps. "See, and that's why you're a dick and a pussy."
"I hate you."
The two men made their way inside and Ricardo led Drake into the living room, where Julio was sitting on the couch. Their were some to-go boxes filled with Chinese food that had just recently been delivered and Ricardo already had cups, silverware, napkins, plates and a two-liter soda so that no one had any excuse to leave the room until their discussion was over. Julio was sitting on the side of the couch that was closest to the entrance, so Drake went over to his normal side in the corner because he knew that Ricky always had dibs on the recliner. No one reached for a plate until the oldest did first and they added food to them in silence.
Even after they all had food and drink, Ricardo didn't begin the conversation. Drake hated the silence, so he did.
"So—" He cleared his throat, but continued to speak quietly. "—how are you feeling?" He glanced at Julio, then averted his eyes when the boy looked back at him.
"I'm okay."
He continued to stare at his friend as if he were seeing the bruises on his face for the first time, which in a sense, he was. He felt extremely guilty. Apparently, Drake had filled Ricardo in on what he knew of the last few months and Ricardo had then filled his brother in. He couldn't remember throwing his best friend against the wall and threatening to kill him, but he did recall falling down the stairs. He couldn't remember beating Drake up, but he did recall looking down at him while he lay bloody and unconscious on the kitchen floor. He couldn't remember driving, but he did recall being placed in handcuffs. He couldn't remember throwing all of Drake's personal belongings out on the front lawn, but he did recall staring up at the ceiling after falling and being unable to move. Ricardo had filled him in on everything, including all the nasty things he had said to his best friend. He'd threatened to kill him just like his father had and he'd beaten the shit out of him just like his father had. Even after all of that, Drake remained loyal. He'd slept in the same room to make sure that he didn't choke on his own vomit and he'd borrowed a fuck-ton of money to bail him out of jail knowing that he'd never be able to pay him back — not in the time Gemini and Rhinestone would expect the money back. Julio did all of this to him and Drake kept it all a secret for him because he didn't want it to worsen his already deteriorating relationship with his brother.
It was obvious by his actions that Drake believed he deserved everything Julio had done to him and, at the time, Julio had probably believed it, too, but that wasn't true. They definitely had some issues. There was jealousy and anger inside of him, but the way he had gone about dealing with those feelings was wrong.
One thing he did remember clearly was the fight that they'd had just before everything fell apart. Ricardo figured out that he had been the one who hurt Drake and things escalated quickly. He could remember how infuriated he was. His brother cared so deeply for their roommate and it was a relationship that he was jealous of. He couldn't stand having Ricardo yell at him, so he'd turned everything around on Drake. Despite his friend's loyalty, he flipped everything on him the first chance he got. He'd wanted to destroy what Drake and Ricky had. He'd wanted his best friend out of their lives. He'd wanted him out of this house, knowing full well that he'd most likely end up living on the streets and back on drugs. Julio had actually wanted that for him. He could remember wanting him to suffer. He could remember wanting him to die.
However, Drake was a different person now. He'd vowed to get sober and it looked like he meant business this time. He left like Julio had demanded, but he didn't go to Tad's or the truck stop or anywhere else druggie Drake would've gone. He went for help, got the encouragement he needed, then he came back to the house of his evictor, his hater, his abuser. He'd refused to give up on him without a fight. Julio couldn't remember the last time his friend had actually fought for something and that made him feel important.
Drake had walked in that house and found Julio at his lowest. He was covered in his own piss and shit and vomit, but he didn't leave him. Despite the paralyzing memories of sitting next to a dying Meelah and a dying Martin, Drake sat next to a dying Julio and saved his life. He had every opportunity to say fuck it and get high, but he chose not to. He chose sobriety. He chose to keep fighting. He chose Julio.
Suddenly, Drake noticed his friend choke out a sob. When he looked up at him, he was hanging his head and he continued to cry.
"I'm sorry," he said pitifully.
The young man's heart fell. He put his food down and moved into the empty space that had been between them on the couch. "No, I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around Julio, his heart aching for his friend. "I've been a shitty friend."
Julio was crying so hard now that his back jerked and it was hard for him to speak clearly. "I don't know why I treated you like that."
"It's okay. It's really okay."
"It's not. I fucking hit you."
The fact that his best friend was feeling so low made Drake cry, too. "It's okay. I've done a lot of bad things to you, too, but I'm trying to be better. I don't wanna keep hurting you."
Ricardo stayed quiet as the two boys hugged each other tightly and cried into one another's shoulders. Things were gonna get better. He had hope.
"I'm gonna-" Drake sniffled. "I'm gonna stay with Gem for a little while."
"No."
"I want you and Ricky to spend more time together. I don't wanna get in the way of that anymore."
"I don't want you to go."
"I think it would be best if you guys had a break from all my chaos."
"I need you here."
Drake felt his friend hold on tighter as if refusing to let him go. Those weren't words he heard often. In fact, he couldn't remember ever feeling needed. Everywhere he went, it was like he was someone who could just be easily discarded or replaced, but not here. No one could ever take his place here. He could tell that Julio was being genuine. Usually, "I need you here" would mean "You need to be here for your sake." For the first time in a long time, he wasn't just saying this for fear of what would happen to Drake if he didn't have them. Julio feared what would happen to himself without having his best friend by his side. Finally, he was being selfish and it was long overdue.
"I'll always be here for you," Drake said.
"So you'll stay?"
"Of course. If that's what you want."
"Is that what you want?"
"Yeah, I wanna stay."
Julio breathed a sigh of relief, but his weeping continued. "I...I need help, Drake."
"I know."
"I'm all fucked up."
"It's okay. I've been there and it's not impossible to get better."
Again, his crying picked up and more sobs left him. "I'm scared."
Drake's heart was broken. He knew exactly how his best friend was feeling and it made him sick knowing that Julio was going through that. He's been in that same spot before. He knew just how terrifying it was — how lonely it felt.
Ricardo stood now and moved around the coffee table so that he was in front of the two. He got on his knees to be at eye level. "We're gonna get through this." He put an arm on his brother's back for supposed and Julio pulled away from Drake and hugged the man. "Together." Ricky pulled Drake into the embrace and held them tightly. "Somos un familia."
"Somos un familia," both boys repeated.
Drake heard the bedroom door open as he retrieved another bottle of Jack Daniels from under the bed. This one still had a bit in it. He turned to see Julio fresh out of the shower. The young man stood and put the bottle in the box he had on the bed. So far, he'd found nine bottles — some big, some small — around Julio's bedroom. Some were empty and some weren't. How had he and Ricardo missed the severity of this?
"Sorry, I was trying to finish before you got out," Drake said.
He caught his friend gazing at the box and it made him nervous. Getting rid of his alcohol was a big, but necessary step. This was a fragile time for Julio, though. He could change his mind and give up at any moment. However, instead of contemplating whether or not to relapse, he went over to his dresser and reached behind it, pulling out another bottle. He passed it to Drake.
"That's the last one."
Drake stared at it a moment before taking it. He put it in the box with the others. "Thanks. Is there any, like, in your car or anything?"
"My flask's in the compartment between the front seats."
Drake nodded. He stayed quiet for a moment because he didn't know exactly what he should say. "Ricardo might wanna talk to you tomorrow about some ideas. Random room searches or...something like that. He won't do it if you don't want him to, but...it's just up to you. It just makes him feel better, but it makes people like us more creative about hiding things."
People like us. Never in a million years would Julio have ever guessed that he'd be on the same playing field as Drake. After all the years of stress and worry and anger and fear — after all that time placing blame — now he was in the same boat and he couldn't remember how he had gotten here.
"I'm gonna get rid of these," Drake said. "I was gonna...sleep in here...if that's okay with you?"
Julio appreciated this so much, but he was too prideful to show just how much. "Sure."
"I can make a palette on the floor. You won't even know I'm here."
"It's okay. We can share the bed."
"Okay." Drake smiled. His voice changed now that all of the serious talk was out of the way. "Okay, so I'll be back in a bit." He carried the box downstairs and into the kitchen, then he immediately went out to the car to retrieve the flask before he forgot.
Roughly five minutes later, Ricardo, who had just finished up in the laundry room, followed the sound of clanking glass to the kitchen, where he found Drake emptying bottles of Jack Daniels and cans of Dos Equis into the sink.
"Hey," he said.
Drake turned and glanced at him. "Hey."
"Is that all of them?"
"I think so."
The man moved across the kitchen and stood next to him, watching him pour the addictive substance down the drain. "I guess it goes without saying that this is now an alcohol-free home. No more stocking the fridge or coming home smelling like booze."
"Got it."
"Did you get that bottle of tequila nobody ever drinks in the back of the fridge?"
"No, I forgot that."
Ricardo opened the refrigerator and moved some things on the top shelf to the side. "I don't see it in here." He checked the other shelves.
"He probably drank it when he was low in cash," Drake said. "I'll ask when I get back up there."
"You staying in his room tonight?"
"Yeah. He said it was okay."
The man nodded. He was glad that his brother wasn't protesting this. They stayed quiet for a little while and just listened to the sound of liquid hitting the sink, but finally, Ricardo spoke again.
"Hey, thanks for being the first one to break the silence in there. I thought if I started the conversation, everything would feel forced. I wanted you guys to make up, but I didn't wanna stop him from getting out his true feelings if you two really were no good for each other and I didn't wanna make you stay if you were gonna feel uncomfortable. I think things went well today."
Drake agreed. Now he had his best friend back. "I think so, too."
Ricardo offered to dispose of the empty containers, so Drake got things ready for the expected long night ahead. He got a couple bottles of water, Gatorades that Ricardo had picked up on the way home from the hospital, a toothbrush and toothpaste, Advil, a miniature trash can and extra trash bags. He changed into some pajamas and brushed his teeth, then he went into his friend's room. He found Julio already asleep. As quietly as possibly, he set the trash can and drinks next to his side of the bed and carefully laid down on the other side.
Drake jerked awake when he felt movement. He opened his eyes to see Julio sitting up next to him.
"I'm gonna throw up." He gagged.
The young man shot up and pointed his sick friend towards the trash can. Vomit spewed from his mouth like a geyser. Drake got up and went into the bathroom to wet a washcloth. He brought it back just as the boy finished up.
"Here."
"Guh, I feel like shit," he groaned.
"I know. I'm sorry." He felt bad that there was nothing he could do to make him feel better. "I brought your toothbrush if you wanna brush your teeth."
Julio just shook his head as he laid back down. Drake tied the strings on the garbage bag and pulled it out of the bin, then he went over to the window and opened it. When Ricardo had taken the bottles and cans to dump them, Drake had asked him to move the trash can underneath Julio's window. He dropped the bag and it landed inside.
"Did you just throw it out the fucking window?" the young man asked with disorientation.
"The trash can's right there." Drake got on his knees in front of him and opened one of the bottles that was on the nightstand. "Here, drink some water." He swapped with Julio, giving him the liquid in exchange for the damp rag. After that, he picked up the roll of trash bags and pulled another one off, then fit it against the inner walls of the can.
"Everything hurts," Julio whined.
"I got some Advil." Drake immediately jumped into action, wanting to do anything he could to ease his friend's pain, even if it was just a little bit. He noticed that the sick young man was trembling as he accepted the pills.
There was no more sleeping for the remainder of the night. It was mainly just Julio complaining and Drake doing whatever he could to offer comfort. He made sure to keep him hydrated, but despite the shaking, he was sweating so much that it drenched the sheets. Julio removed everything but his boxers and Drake got more wet washcloths for his forehead torso and each leg. Even that wasn't enough, so he had to turn the central air unit lower, turn on his fan and bring in the fans out of his and Ricardo's bedrooms. Drake was freezing, so he put on another pair of pajama pants on top of the ones he was wearing, another shirt and a sweater.
He couldn't remember the last time he had stayed up all night without having Triple C's in his system, so everything seemed to be triggering him. He buried these thoughts with cigarettes. Ricardo had given him permission to smoke out of the bedroom window so he didn't stay gone long and often as long as Julio was okay with it. With all the fans going, he wouldn't be able to smell it.
"Drake?" came Julio's weak, trembling voice. He was pitiful.
The boy turned towards him. "Yeah, bud?"
There was hesitation, but then he admitted, "I'm having bad thoughts." He was thinking about drinking. Of course he wanted to drink again. It was to be expected.
Drake tossed his unfinished cigarette, then sat down backwards on the bed so that he faced Julio. "I know. I know it's hard. I'm so sorry that you're going through this." His heart filled with sadness when he noticed that his friend was weeping. "I know I don't really say this as often as I should, but I love you and I'm so proud of you. I know you're feeling weak and scared right now, but it takes strength and courage to do what you're doing."
Before now — before saying this — Drake had considered his dad to be a strong person, but Martin never could make up his mind to stay sober. He wasn't strong at all. Julio was strong.
I am strong.
"Drake?"
"Yeah?" He scooted closer and picked up one of the rags on his friend's legs, then he slid it up and down his skin to cool him off. Afterwards, he did this with the next leg.
"I always talked about...wanting to die." His voice was hard to hear under all the fans and it reminded Drake how Charlie always made voices sound distant and distorted, too. "But I don't. I've been feeling so alone lately, but when I woke up in the hospital, my brother was right there and he told me what had happened and he just started crying. Like, really crying."
Drake listened as he took the wet washcloth from Julio's chest and rubbed it up and down his arms to wipe the sweat off.
"And Mamá was crying. And my dad was crying. I can't believe I did that to them."
"I know what you mean," Drake empathized.
"But for you...you wanted to die so bad that you kept trying."
The young man sighed. "I was in a bad place."
"You're still in that place. Right? I can tell."
He hesitated because he didn't know how to respond to this, but he decided to answer honestly. "I've never stopped wanting to die, no. Every morning when I wake up, I am just filled with this overwhelming, like...dread. I think about killing myself all the time. Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere. Like, if I'm chopping vegetables, I picture myself slitting my own throat. Or when I drive over a bridge, I fantasize about jumping off." He saw the sad look in Julio's eyes and realized that he should be making sober living sound more fun. "But that's all they are," he was quick to say. "They're just fantasies. There's a line between fantasizing and contemplating — a thin one, but a line nonetheless. I don't let myself contemplate anymore. I swore I'd never act on those impulses, so when I'm thinking about slitting my own throat, I put the knife down and step away. When I wanna jump off a bridge, I press the gas pedal and keep driving past it." Drake wore a serious expression and even the tone of his voice changed as he looked Julio in the eyes. "I will never do that to you again. Ever. I promise."
Julio nodded his thanks, then his face contorted as more tears came.
Drake leaned over and pulled him into a hug. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna get through this. We all will."
"I love you." Even though they had already said this to one another not too long ago, Julio hadn't said it first. He never said it first. He wanted Drake to know that he did actually love him and that he wasn't ever just replying because it was the natural thing to do. Every time he'd ever said it, he'd meant it.
"I know. I love you, too." He laughed before he even got Ricky's mantra out. "Somos un familia."
Despite how shitty he was feeling, Julio chuckled. "Somos un familia."
Author's Note: A little late, but here's the chapter. I'm sleepy and can't really think of anything to say. I wanna thank the person who reviewed last chapter for sticking with this story for so dang long when it seems like everyone else has lost interest in it. I've had a hard time writing because I like to make sure I stay a few chapters ahead of what I post and, in those chapters, I've stepped into some new territory. The story's going in a different direction and I like it, but I just have no idea what it means for the ending that kind of needs to come soon. I guess we'll see.
I probably won't have another chapter out until after the New Year, so I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season. A review is a nice Christmas gift. Just throwing that out there. ;)
Anyway, I don't have a whole lot to talk about. I'm just glad I'm finally pushing this chapter out. Until next time. CCC ya!