Author's Note: I decided I'm gonna give a bit of a summary or note some key points that happened in previous chapters before I begin each chapter because I know a month or so goes by between each update and, with this lengthy series in particular, I reference or bring back things that happened in Charlie Freak or Charlie Horse, which I know can get confusing. Therefore, if you need a quick refresher, this space will be for you. (I don't think later chapter catch-ups will be this long or descriptive, but it's been a while, so I'm gong to cover the last few chapters somewhat in this one).

— IF YOU DON'T NEED A REFRESHER, FEEL FREE TO SCROLL ON DOWN TO WHERE THE CHAPTER BEGINS. —

PREVIOUSLY ON SORRY, CHARLIE:

Short Version:

~While still together, Dahlia used the fake Ricardo account she made to manipulate Drake into being more open to her ideas in bed. He agreed to a rape role-play, but got uncomfortable and used the safe-word. However, she gagged him so that he couldn't speak and kept going. She later bragged about this to Samantha and, when it because a whole thing, Drake stuck up for his fiancée. Samantha later told Julio and Ricardo about this.

~Julio started drinking heavily and his hatred for Drake was growing rapidly.

~Drake started taking antidepressants at the mental hospital.

~Drake is in a casual sex relationship with Hero, a woman twice his age that he met in the mental hospital.

~Drake landed a part in the local production of his favorite musical Rent. While there, he's forced to take verbal abuse from a director named Allie who has singled him out for seemingly no reason.

~Drake admitted to a week-long relapse and swore he'd never use again. To earn Ricardo's trust back, he gave him permission to track his phone, monitor his purchases and conduct random room and bag searches. He is currently clean.

~While out with the Rent crew, fellow cast-mate Sal flirtatiously touches him without permission and sends him into a panic attack. Ricardo and Dee help him through it and, upon returning to the theatre, he finds that things between himself and Sal are awkward.

~Julio's alcoholism landed him a stay in the hospital. When he got out, he and Drake made up and Drake stayed with him that night to help him through withdrawals.

Detailed Version:

Drake was engaged to Dahlia Martin (who also goes by Clementine or Clem). She was physically, verbally and emotionally abusive and took advantage of the feelings he had for her so that she could manipulate him into doing or feeling however she wanted. She even managed to turn him against his best friends Julio and Ricardo Santos by convincing him to skip his long-waited-for counselor's appointment, resulting in a heated blow-up between the four, which led Drake to have a panic attack. Unsympathetic, Dahlia offered him muscle relaxers that belonged to her roommate Brett Monty. An overdose followed and he ended up in the hospital. When he got out, now living with Dahlia, he proved his love to her by proposing. Ricardo finds out about the engagement on Facebook and tries to make amends with Drake via text message. However, Clementine had Drake's phone set up so that she could also receive his messages, notifications and location. She deleted the message before Drake could see it, then decided to create a fake account under Ricardo's name. From here, she sent nasty, vicious messages to Drake so that he would rely only on her. Plus, she used this tactic to convince him to do whatever she wanted. While taunting him for being bad at sex (under Ricardo's account since they once slept together before Ricky's coming out), Drake became insecure and felt the need to prove himself. Therefore, when Dahlia asked him to do things in bed that made him uncomfortable, he did them. During a rape role-play he went along with out of desperation to please her because he felt their relationship falling apart, Dahlia restrained him. Painful memories began flooding his head and it became to much for him, but when he pleaded with her to stop, even using their safe-word, she gagged him so that he could no longer speak and continued. She later bragged about this to roommate and girlfriend of Brett, Samantha Watson.

Drake later learned, despite being warned many times before, that Dahlia had been cheating on him during the entirety of their relationship, so he packs his belongings and leaves. Believing that he couldn't return to the Santos house and distraught about the betrayal, Drake goes to the gay nightclub he frequented whilst staying with Gemini (while Ricardo came to terms with his sexuality and what had happened between himself and Drake). At the club, Josh, a chubby hipster, who Drake had danced with and given a blowjob to before, found the boy wasted at the bar and took him to his home, where Drake seduced him. After realizing that Josh had a boyfriend and knowing what it felt like to be cheated on, Drake left in a hurry and found himself at Ricardo's boyfriend Dee Christensen's house, where he broke down and told him about his fiancée cheating and the messages he had been receiving from Ricky. Still black-out drunk, he then tried to sleep with Dee. This behavior is later assumed to be a product of the sexual abuse in his past (from his father, Coach Tad from high school, an orderly at the mental hospital he was in when he was thirteen, Dahlia, and the men who took it too far when he was selling his body in exchange for drug money at a truck stop) and his recent bout with prostitution. It was speculated that he needs to feel needed and he was taught by his abusers that he was only wanted for sexual relief. In addition, while involved with sex work, he'd become accustomed to using sex as a form of payment. Because Dee took him in, treated him kindly and let him have his break-down, he, under the influence of alcohol, tried to offer him sexual gratification. Dee refused this, resulting in Drake feeling unwanted and unworthy. Drake then got angry and began throwing and breaking things until Dee had no choice but to hit him. Dee then called his boyfriend and this led to arguments between the two, which they had been having a lot lately due to Ricardo's inability to focus on anything other than his worry for Drake and the bad things that could happen because of his growing dependency on Dahlia.

When Drake awoke, he had no recollection of anything after arriving at the nightclub and was filled in by Julio. Mortified and ashamed, he snuck out the first chance he could and, with nowhere else to go, he found himself at the truck stop, where he was showered to make himself presentable to the men he would have to offer his body to. Desperate for an out so that he wouldn't have to go back to his life of drugs and homelessness, he called Dahlia, apologized for making a huge deal out of her infidelity, and begged for another chance. She followed up by insulting him and making him feel horrible about himself, even going so far as to suggest he kill himself. Within minutes, he received a text from the fake Ricardo account also pushing him to commit suicide. Filled with hopelessness and self-loathing, he swallowed all the muscle relaxers leftover from the bottle he had stolen from Brett.

Meanwhile, Alice Hayfer, Drake's eleventh and twelfth grade math teacher, was picking up her husband Garrett from the truck stop. She spoke bitterly, for she was still angry about finding her spouse paying her former student for sexual favors in his tractor two months before. Mr. Hayfer tried to discuss their upcoming appointment for couple's counseling and whether their son Daniel, who had committed suicide eight years ago at the age of twenty-two would be brought up during the session. Needing to relief his bladder, they stopped at the truck stop bathroom, where Garrett found Drake laying in one of the showers with a faint pulse. He phoned an ambulance and rushed to get his wife, who had to perform CPR multiple times until paramedics arrived.

Back at the Santos house, everyone now knew of Drake's disappearance. Jealous and unable to understanding his boyfriend's extreme worry for a grown man, Dee begged to be brought into the loop so that he could offer help and support and work with his partner as a unit. Denied the answers he was searching for, he questioned if Drake was the friend Ricardo had previously mentioned sleeping with and asked if he had romantic feelings for Drake. He mentioned the shocking messages from the fake Ricardo account that he had been shown and asked if Ricky had told his ex roommate to kill himself because he was jealous that he chose Dahlia over him. Too focused on his desperation to find Drake to marinate on his confusion, Ricardo remembered being given permission to track his friend's phone a couple months before and found him at the truck stop. He promised to come right back and work things out with his boyfriend, but Dee was unable to fight with Drake for first place in Ricky's heart and broke up with him. Upset but knowing he had to find Drake before he relapsed, Ricardo let him go. When he and his brother arrived at the truck stop bathroom, they found their friend unresponsive and receiving CPR and powerful shocks from an AED attempting to jump-start his heart. After the fourth attempt, Drake started breathing.

Drake was admitted to the hospital and put in ICU. Ricardo remained positive and comforted his younger brother during their first visitation with Drake. The patient began seizing and the Santos brothers were told to go back to the waiting room. They were later given news that Drake was stable, but Ricardo's optimism faded. Julio knew the man was carrying the stress of trying to be strong for the both of them and, feeling guilty, he contacted Dee and filled him in on what had happened. Dee came to the hospital to offer his support and he comforted his ex while he cried. Drake was comatose for one day before waking up and was, to his friends' confusion, aggressive and angry towards the oldest boy. They learned about the texts Drake had been receiving and concluded that Dahlia was behind the fake account. They called Samantha for help so that they could get proof and she told them about Dahlia raping Drake and Drake sticking up for her anyway. When showed the proof, Drake felt awful and apologized for treating Ricky so poorly. Later, Drake caught Julio sneakily drinking from a flask and, when he realized he'd been caught, he exploded. Julio drunkenly ranted about how Drake had ruined his life. He accused his long-time best friend of being the reason he had become an alcoholic and stealing his brother away. He ranted about a pattern he had noticed where Drake would do something unforgivable (like try to seduce his best friend's boyfriend) and then he would run off and almost get himself killed, forcing everyone to forget about what he had done and sympathize for him. He told him how unfair it was that no one was allowed to get mad at Drake because of the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his father. Despite this blow-up, he continued to show up for visitation, although drunk. The Santos brothers stayed by his side day in and day out and Mrs. Hayfer visited everyday. He had a bumpy recovery, but recovered nonetheless.

After a month of rest, he admitted himself into a mental hospital like both his doctor and Ricardo had recommended. There, he met a former classmate that he never got along with before and they quickly became friends. On the first night, being roommates with an older man who resembled his gym coach triggered his PTSD and sent him into a panic that led to him punching a male nurse. He was put in a straitjacket and locked away in solitary confinement. When asked by Ricardo why he always freaked out at the mention of treatment centers (like mental hospitals and rehabs), Drake opened up and admitted to being the subject of abuse when he was here about eight years before. He explained that his bad attitude and behavior often got him sent to isolation, which used to be located in the basement. He told him about an orderly named Mr. Kenneth who used to "make home movies." He would force thirteen-year-old Drake and a girl who was two years older than him named Genny Lynn to have sex while he recorded it on his camera. Drake admitted to this being how he had lost his virginity and he confessed that now-deceased girlfriend and love of his life Meelah Dekody was not his first despite what he always told people. Drake decided to leave the hospital, but was given the news that it was unlikely that he would be allowed to go. He was let out of solitary and prescribed an antidepressant called Effexor. After a rough first week, he began participating in therapy and opening up about his troubled life, which inspired the closed-off Theo to do the same and reveal that his aunt had molested him for years beginning at the age of five. After his release, Drake remained in contact with Theo and a forty-two year old woman named Hero, who he started sleeping with.

While at Hero's house, Dahlia showed up and asked why she hadn't heard from Drake, then she got offended and started putting him down when he told her that he was done with her. Despite his words, he later expressed to the Santos brothers that he missed her and wanted to get back together with her. While on a walk with Julio that evening, Drake cautiously attempted to bring up Julio's worsening alcoholism, to which Julio spewed out insults and stormed off. After the stressful day, Drake relapsed on Triple C's (also referred to as Charlie or CCC's).

He got a part in a musical called Rent, which Dee had persuaded him to audition for back before his and Ricardo's break-up. Dee was also cast, which made things awkward. Because of his drug use, his voice became monotonous and he gained the attention of one of the play directors named Allie, who frequently insulted him with vulgar name-calling and vicious taunting. After rehearsals one day, Drake had no other option but to ride home with Dee. Feeling guilty about ruining the only thing Ricardo had ever wanted, Drake explained to Dee why Ricky was always so secretive about him. He told him about his drug addiction and the physical and sexual abuse he'd endured at his dad's and he promised that he would be okay with Ricardo keeping him in the loop if he gave his friend another chance.

Drake soon turned twenty-two and was given a party, which he was surprised with while tripping on his pills. Despite trying to play it cool, Ricardo figured it out and confronted him about the the next morning. Drake admitted to relapsing, but just that one day. When asked why, his old drug addict behavior took over and he subtly manipulated Ricardo into believing it was his fault. He told him he was upset because he spoke to Dee and told him everything. He still continued to use after this. Over the weekend, he went to Mrs. Hayfer's house, where he mowed her lawn for money and ate dinner. She told him how proud she was of him and gave him encouragement. Feeling guilty, he admitted to his week-long relapse. When Ricardo picked him up after work, Drake confessed the full truth to him as well. To earn the man's trust back, he allowed Ricardo to conduct random room and bag searches and to track his location and his purchases. Because of what Julio had told him back at the hospital about everyone feeling like the weren't allowed to get mad at him, he encouraged Ricky to express his true feelings and he listened to him vent. Drake swore to him that he would never use Triple C's again.

Because of the guilt he felt after Julio's blow-up at the hospital, Drake tried to be more independent and learn how to take charge of his addiction on his own. This gave Ricardo more time to focus on his own life, and just in time for Dee to suggest giving their relationship another go. Between work and his boyfriend, Ricky got busy and became less attentive to what was going on in his home. Julio's alcoholism came to a climax. One day, he drunkenly tripped and fell down the stairs. When Drake tried to help him up, he released his anger on him by slinging him against the wall and threatening to kill him. Despite his fear, Drake stayed by his side that night to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit. The next day, Drake caught his intoxicated friend going for his car keys. He quickly snatched them up and a fight broke out, leaving Drake battered and bruised. Drake managed to get rid of the keys once and for all by dropping them down the drain in the kitchen sink. Outrage, Julio delivered a punch so hard that it knocked the boy out. When Drake came to, he discovered that Julio had used his spare keys and took the car anyway. He received a called from Julio, who was in jail after having gotten arrested for drunk driving. They discussed how they would get him out and this is when Drake learned that his troubled friend had flunk out of school a while back. Julio wanted to keep this a secret between the two of them and Drake thought that, because of his experiences, he could help, so he agreed to keep this from Ricardo. Because of this, he wasn't able to get his money from him because then he would be asked what it was for. With no other option, he borrowed from Gemini and Rhinestone and Julio was bonded out. His drinking and his hatred for Drake continued. Two days later, Ricardo noticed his busted knuckles while he made a sandwich next to him and realized that he had been the one who had beaten Drake up. An argument ensued and, pissed that he was caught, Julio decided to air out all of Drake's dirty laundry as well. Enraged by all the lies he had been fed, Ricardo stormed upstairs. Julio kicked Drake out and told him that he was unwelcome and needed to find somewhere else to live.

Instead of getting high, Drake went to Mrs. Hayfer's house and vented to her about what had happened. After getting a pep talk, he returned to the Santos house to find all his belongings thrown across the yard. Still, he went inside to discuss with Julio whether he really wanted him to go or not. He found Julio at the bottom of the staircase, having tripped over a guitar strap on his way to throw Drake's instrument outside with his other things. He was choking on his vomit, so Drake turned him over and scooped it out, then called an ambulance. Afterwards, he called Ricardo. At the hospital, he cleared the air and told him everything.

While at Subway with the Rent cast the next day, a girl who liked to go by Sal struck up a conversation with him. Drake was already nervous and on edge after having just received new that Julio would be released from the hospital and Ricardo wanted to have a family meeting, so when Sal flirtatiously teased him and touched his back uninvited, it sent him into a panic attack. Dee took Drake and met with Ricardo, who calmed him down. However, when he got back to the theatre, things were uncomfortably awkward between him and Sal.

When Drake got home, Julio was there, now over his alcohol poisoning. Their dinner started out quietly, but after Drake broke the ice, Julio broke down and apologized for his behavior, then admitted to feeling scared. Drake promised to help him through it and he stayed by his side that night and comforted him through his painful withdrawals.

(1 week later)

Drake's eyes shot open and his body physically jerked as he awoke. He gasped, then looked around frantically to find himself in his room at the Santos house. He sighed with relief, then continued panting for breath. "Fuck," he whispered to himself with shaky fingers. He pushed himself into a sitting position and hunched over, then he ran his fingers through his hair.

He was drenched with sweat, but it wasn't just due to the nightmare. Over the last week, Drake had bunked with Julio to help him through his hellish withdrawal symptoms, one of those being excessive sweating. They kept the house and Julio's room especially cool as an attempt to make things a little easier and therefore, both Drake and Ricardo were sick with colds.

The young man reached over to his nightstand and took some of the cold medicine. It was two in the morning, so it was close enough to time for him to take more. His head was burning up and it ached and his face felt stuffy and swollen. He put some nose spray in his nose, squirted some sore throat spray in his mouth, then grabbed a cough drop. When he pushed himself out of bed, he felt heavy, but also as if he was floating like a balloon filled with helium. He stumbled over to the closet and grabbed a jacket that he could wear. His own wouldn't fit over the layers upon layers of long-sleeved shirts that he was wearing, but he had one of Ricardo's old jackets in his closet after borrowing it a long time ago, so he put that on and zipped it up to his neck, then stuck his hands in the pockets. Now would be a good time for HotHands.

Despite how fatigued he was, he knew that he wouldn't be going back to sleep now. He was too embarrassed to admit it out loud, but Drake was afraid of being alone in the dark after that nightmare. At least, he didn't want to be alone in the dark in this room. Whenever he had sleep paralysis, he always hallucinated about where he had fallen asleep, which was usually here, so he's seen his father in this room more times than he could stand. He'd gotten used to the comfort of sleeping next to someone else knowing that he would be woken up if he had a nightmare. This was his first night back in his room and maybe going to sleep nervous about that is what had triggered the bad dream in the first place.

The young man carefully opened his door and made his way down the hall. He was going to pee and then go outside to smoke, but as he came up on the bathroom door, he heard what sounded like whimpering. He continued walking until he got to Julio's room. He listened for a moment, then pushed the door open. His friend was having a nightmare, too. He crossed the room and shook his shoulder.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Julio woke suddenly and similarly to how Drake had. He sat up when he saw his friend. "Jesus, I was having a nightmare." He was mumbling due to his tiredness.

"Same."

"Was I yelling?"

"No, I was on my way to the bathroom."

"I dreamed I was drinking and driving and I crashed into something and you and Ricky died and I ran so I wouldn't go to prison, but then this huge, hideous monster kept chasing me."

"Shit." Drake figured his friend's openness meant that he wanted to talk, so he put a moratorium on his late night bathroom break and sat down next to his legs. "You alright?"

"I don't know." Julio rubbed his eyes tiredly. "What was your nightmare about?"

The young man averted his eyes with this question. "My dad." This was only partly true. His father had played a part in his dream, but Julio had been the star. Apparently, the memory of having his best friend sling him against the wall and threaten his life wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

"I don't even think I can go back to sleep. You?"

"Nah."

"Why are we so fucked up?"

"You wanna smoke a cigarette?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna pee first. I'll meet you downstairs."

Drake left the room and went to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he made it downstairs, Julio was slipping on some house shoes. They headed outside and sat down in the two rocking chairs. While Drake pulled out two cigarettes, Julio pulled the ashtray on the table between them closer to the middle so that he could reach better.

"Should you be smoking?" Julio took his cigarette and put one end in his mouth, then leaned closer to let his friend light it. He pulled away and a cloud of smoke left his lips. "I mean, with your sore throat and all."

"Definitely not." Drake lit his own, then exhaled slowly. The smoke irritated his throat, so he started coughing until he had to stand and lean over the banisters to spit a glob of mucus out. When it finally came up, he leaned his elbows on the railing and groaned, then sniffled.

"You should really stop smoking, bro."

"I know."

"No, I mean, for real." He knew that his friend thought he just meant temporarily while he was sick, but he meant permanently.

This time, Drake sighed. "I know."

"What were you, sixteen when you started?"

The young man snorted what was left of the mucus that hadn't come up, then he spat that out. "Fourteen."

"Shit, dude," Julio said. "That's eight years. I thought you started with Meelah."

"No, I was just embarrassed about it and kept it a secret until I got with Meelah, then I thought it was cool."

"How long did she smoke before she quit?"

"I think she said she'd just started a few months before we got together, so...a year? Give or take. She quit while we were broken up." He took another drag. "My mom used to smoke."

"I remember."

"For, like, thirty years."

"Damn." Julio blinked with surprise. "She's not that old, though."

"She told me she started when she was nine."

"Fuck, bruh."

"She said she was a wild kid. Always rebelling. Always in trouble for doing shit she wasn't supposed to. Kinda hard to picture her like that."

"So that's where you get it."

This brought a small smile up on Drake's face to think that maybe he was more like his mother rather than like his father. He would've been proud to be like her, except her definition of wild was smoking in the school bathroom, street-racing with her boyfriend, staying out past curfew and breaking into abandoned houses to party with her friends. Drake had been like that in his early teen years, he supposed, but now his definition of wild had change. Or maybe he wasn't a wild child at all. Maybe there was another word for it. Maybe just bad or criminal or societally useless. Maybe he was an abomination. Is that what you would call a teenage addict, thief, liar, back-stabber, bum, beggar, prostitute? Or would you just call that a wild kid?

"Did you know Mrs. Hayfer was a smoker?" Julio asked.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we smoked together once when you were in the hospital. She said she'd quit a long time ago and just buys a pack once in a blue moon during stressful situations."

"Shit, I didn't know. I feel bad. I've smoked around her at her house when I'm cutting grass."

Julio let go of his breath, then flicked some of his ashes into the tray. Finally, Drake straightened, but instead of taking his seat again, he hopped up onto the banister and sat there so that he was facing his friend.

"Speaking of cutting grass, don't you have to do that this weekend?"

"Yeah. I don't even wanna think about it."

"I could take over for you."

"You don't have to do that."

"You're sick. You don't need to be out there all day. You need to be in bed resting."

He knew that Drake was sick because of him. He got sick that first night of withdrawals a week ago and he's been sick ever since because he continued to sleep in his freezing cold room so that he didn't have to go through everything alone.

"I'll be better by the time Saturday comes around," Drake said.

"You plan on becoming miraculously healed in two days even though you refuse to give yourself time to rest?" he asked. "Come on. Let me work off some of the money I owe you for bailing me out of jail."

"Your brother's helping me pay Rhinestone and Gem back."

"I know, but it's *my* mess. Ricardo's already gonna pay for the DUI classes I have to take and he doesn't want me to throw myself back into school or work just like he didn't want you to after you got clean. I just wanna help."

Drake knew that feeling. He's felt it a lot because he's fucked up a lot. "I'll talk to Mrs. Hayfer tomorrow and see if she can ask her neighbors if they'll be okay with you taking my place for the day. Or we can take our lawn mower with us and split the yards. That way, it'll only take half the time."

"Cool. We'll be the Santos Lawn Care Service."

"Just gonna cut me out completely now?"

"No. You're a Santos now."

Drake Santos. It had a nice ring to it. It made him feel like he belonged somewhere — to people other than Martin Parker. That's one thing that had always felt unfair to him. Audrey had been able to leave and her last name changed when she married Walter. She could shed her skin, erase any trace of the time she'd spent with Martin. Drake couldn't. He always carried that name with him and he always would. After marriage, it'll be given to his wife, then maybe some future kids. It would be spread down the bloodline like a hereditary disease. He was next to join the line of abusive, alcoholic men in his family. Alcohol never felt like a problem, though, and he couldn't imagine hitting an innocent child. Maybe things would change, though. Maybe by turning to drugs rather than alcohol, he was making things way worse for his kids in the future. Maybe he'd gotten off easy having a raging alcoholic father. Maybe his drug problem would make him a thousand times worse.

"That's the last time I give you a compliment. Goddamn!"

"What?"

"You're in your head."

"Sorry. You're right." He took a breath and looked down at his swinging feet. "Fuck. I don't know why I do that."

"Ruined a perfectly good fucking moment."

Drake shrugged, then met his eyes with his own squinted ones and a smile. "A little cheesy, though. Right?"

"You know what? I take it back then. Brotherhood revoked."

"No, no, I'm kidding. I like it. Ten out of ten totally not cheesy."

"That's what I thought," he said. "You going back to sleep after this?"

"No, you?" When Julio shook his head, he asked, "Wanna watch a movie?"

"Depends. Who's picking the movie?"

"Um...me?" Drake wore an innocent expression.

"Then no."

"Come on."

"Drake, your movies are so fucking weird."

"All you watch is trashy action and vulgar comedies. They're all the same. Throw a couple explosions in the action ones. Have a couple people say vagina in the comedies. They're predictable."

"But they're not weird."

"I won't pick a weird one."

"Do you even own one that isn't weird?"

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly. However, he was shaking his head no.

Julio sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine!"

"Drake?!"

The boy's eyes shot open and he saw Ricardo coming towards the living room, where he lay on the couch.

"What the fuck? I didn't see you in your room. I thought you were already up. I woke up late."

"Time is it?" He stretched his legs out and rubbed his eyes.

"It's 6:45."

"Shit!" Drake hopped off the couch and dashed upstairs. He had to be at rehearsals in fifteen minutes. He'd already called out two days earlier in the week to stay with Julio during his withdrawals and Allie hadn't been too happy. If he was late, she would chew his head off.

He brushed his teeth first because that's what was most important to him. He didn't care if he showed up naked as long as his teeth were brushed. Otherwise, he would feel it all day and constantly run his tongue over his teeth and wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything. While he did this, he went into his room and grabbed a t-shirt, jeans and socks. He went back into the bathroom to rinse and spit, cleaned his toothbrush, then ran downstairs, only stopping to pick up his shoes.

"I'm ready," he called to Ricardo, who had just finished pouring himself some coffee in a travel mug. He put the lid on it and hurried out the door right after Drake.

When the car was cranked, Drake checked the clock. 6:48. "Fuck." He removed his many shirts as they backed out of the driveway, then put on the clean one. "Damn, I forgot deodorant."

"Here." Ricky opened the middle compartment and pulled out a stick of Old Spice.

"You keep deodorant in your car?"

"That's not weird."

Drake took the stick. "I hate sharing deodorant."

"Shut the fuck up and just put it on."

The young man popped off the cap and rubbed some under both armpits.

"You do realize my brother uses your deodorant all the time, right?"

"What?!"

"You share the same bathroom. Have you ever once seen another tube of deodorant other than the one you buy?"

"I thought he kept his in his room so I wouldn't use his."

"Nah, he doesn't give a shit about that."

"That's so fucking gross. Geez, I would've bought him fucking deodorant if I knew that."

"Pretty sure he'd still use yours just to piss you off."

Drake groaned, then put the Old Spice back in the middle compartment. He then removed his pajama pants and picked up his jeans, then lifted his ass off the seat so that he could slide them on and secure them. "Damn it. I don't have a belt."

"I think I have one of mine in the trunk." He glanced at his friend's waist. "It might fit you. I don't know. You might have to poke an extra hole in it. It was cheap anyway."

After Drake got on his socks and his shoes, he relaxed in his seat with a huff.

"You and Julio slept in the living room?"

"Yeah, we both woke up from nightmares at, like, the same time, so we went downstairs and watched a couple movies."

"What time did you go back to sleep?"

"I don't remember. Sometime during the second one because it was Julio's pick and it sucked. Fuck, today's gonna suck!"

"Did you remember your medicine?"

Drake hesitated and spoke in a quiet voice. "No, I stopped taking it."

"What?! Why?!"

"I just — it's not helping."

"And taking nothing is?"

"I still go about my day depressed as shit and I cry just as much as I did before I started taking it. Look, the counselor's appointment the mental hospital made me schedule is coming up, so I'll have that."

Ricardo glanced at the clock. It was 6:57 and they were nearing the theatre. "I wish we had more time to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. I just don't wanna take the meds. I've put enough shit in my body for one lifetime."

"That's a bullshit excuse and you know it."

Drake could feel an argument coming on and he wasn't in the mood. "Ricky, they're not working."

"How do you know?"

"Because I do."

"How?"

"Because I still wake up and the first thought I have is about killing myself!"

The man went silent and Drake immediately felt guilty. He was working on living the kind of life that wouldn't make those around him worry, but how was that supposed to happen if he said shit like this?

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Shit."

"No, it's okay. I'm glad you did. I guess we haven't had much of a chance to discuss if anything's changing." He parked the car in an empty space. "You've been staying strong for my brother and it looked like things were actually getting better for you."

"Yeah. I gotta run."

"Wait a minute. I just don't want you to suppress your feelings for anyone's sake."

The young man sighed as he pulled his hand away from the handle. "I'm just trying not to make sober life look like such a drag," Drake admitted. "I have to go."

Ricardo said, "Just... You don't have to hide it from me, you know? I would like an update."

"I promised I wouldn't try to kill myself again and I meant it. You don't have to worry."

"I'll always worry. I hate seeing you hurting. Now is not a good time for you to start withdrawing into yourself. I know you're trying to be more self-dependent and that's great. I support that. But you can still be independent and talk about what's going on with you at the same time."

"Look, we'll talk about this after, okay? I have to go." Drake got out of the car and grabbed the belt after the man popped the trunk for him, then he hurried inside.

Dee had a river of sweat trailing down the spine of his shirt as he plopped down on the bleachers next to Drake, who was leaning back and looked relaxed. The man grabbed his sweat towel and patted his face, then picked up his water bottle. "You look like you're having fun," he said sarcastically.

"No, I am actually. I've been in love with this musical for years. It's pretty cool to have the chance to be apart of it. Definitely keeps me busy a few days out of the week. Helps me stay clean."

Dee nodded, then drank more water. He hardly gave himself enough time to swallow it before asking, "So what'd you think?"

"Of what?" Then, "Oh, of the scene? Yeah. I mean...you were aiight," he joked as he rolled his eyes, then he received a playful shove. "It's really good. Other than that minor misstep this last time."

"Yeah, I'm so exhausted. Been at this scene all morning and we just keep jumping and running around."

"She'll probably dismiss us for lunch in a few," Drake said. "You going with anyone?"

The only people there were the main actors and their understudies, so it was doubtful that there'd be a huge gathering this time.

"No."

"Wanna get smoothies?"

"That sounds good. I need to cool off."

"Same. I've been working up a sweat over here. All this sitting and not participating is exhausting as hell."

"Yeah, I bet." He then noticed Drake and Sal share an awkward look as she passed before the boy averted his eyes. Dee watched her go towards her purse and pick up her bottle, then check her phone. "The hell was that?"

"We've just kinda been ignoring each other since I freaked out on her last week. I thought if I just brushed it off, she'd forget about it, but now there's just so much weirdness and tension." He could tell that Dee wanted to ask but was too polite, so he volunteered the information. "She touched me. At lunch. Just a friendly pat of the shoulder, but... I went from zero to a hundred so fast I hardly remember it. I started having all of these..." Drake wouldn't look at him when he spoke because it still felt strange being open to a guy he'd just met only months ago, but Dee was a nice guy and he was trustworthy. "...flashbacks."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, I know. I want to," Drake said and he finally met his eyes to show that he was being genuine. "I want to."

Dee stayed quiet and let him speak without any prompts so that the boy had complete control of the conversation and how far he wanted it to go.

"I just don't like being touched when I'm not expecting it and the conversation we were having before that was so bad that I was already having anxiety. Plus, Ricky wanted me to talk to Julio after he got out of the hospital and I was expecting it to go poorly and I wasn't in the right head-space to be able to handle my best friend hating me and wanting me out of the house. I don't know. I guess everything was just happening so fast and all it took was for that one surprise pat on the shoulder for me to fly off the handle. She thinks I'm fucking crazy." After a moment, he spoke quieter. "I am fucking crazy."

"Well...probably, but..."

"Shut up." But he was smiling, which made Dee smile, too.

"You should go talk to her."

"Ha. Yeah, right."

"For real. I think she likes you."

Drake said nothing, so the man gave him an encouraging shove.

"Come on," he urged. "Just...invite her to get smoothies with us," he suggested. He gave him another push when he didn't move. "Come on!"

"Alright! Fine! Fuck!"

Drake stood and Dee gathered his things and headed out the door and to his car. The young man made his way towards Sal and when he approached her, he still hadn't made up his mind about what he wanted to say.

"Hey." Okay. Bland start, but a start nonetheless.

She turned around and looked at him warily when she saw that it was him. "Hey."

Maybe an apology? That doesn't sound right. An explanation definitely isn't happening. "Um...I'm... Dee and I — we're gonna get smoothies. Do you wanna come?"

She paused with surprise and confusion and the anticipation made Drake feel nervous and awkward. Maybe he shouldn't have taken Dee's advice, but it worked.

"Sure," she said.

"Cool. Okay. Um, are you ready now or...?"

"Yeah. I'm ready."

The two walked together out of the building and Dee smiled with satisfaction when he saw them.

"So... Wait, so you're dating his best friend? Am I... Is that right?"

"Yeah," Dee said.

"I knew you two knew each other. You're closer than everyone else is here," Sal said. "I kinda thought you were dating."

"You really think Drake ever has a chance to be with someone like me?"

"Okay. Damn!" Drake was sitting next to Dee, who had chosen the seat next to him after ordering his smoothie. He was glad because it meant no unwanted — although innocent and friendly — touches. "But true."

This made Sal giggle. "Really? Interesting. You know, Drake was the guy to be with back in high school. Mr. Popular. Everyone wanted to be with him." She looked at him when she said this and Drake could tell that she was flirting with him. She had been the entire time.

"Well, you know what they say. People change," Dee joked.

"No," Sal said, looking at her former classmate again. "I don't think they do." Again with the fuck-me eyes.

Dee glanced at his phone. "Alright, it's about time to be heading back."

"I had a lot of fun. Thanks for inviting me, you guys." But her smile was only directed at Drake. She stood. "I'm gonna run to the little girls' room before we go."

Dee nodded as he sucked down more of his smoothie. He was almost done with it and he hated to throw away something that had cost almost seven dollars. He glanced at Drake, who was staring at her ass as she left before he realized he was caught. The man smirked.

"What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing."

"What?"

"I didn't say anything." But he was grinning as he sipped some more of his beverage.

"Ugh, fuck off."

They were quiet for about a minute. Drake was just sitting there with a bouncing leg and fidgeting fingers and Dee was on his phone scrolling through Instagram, but finally, the younger boy stood.

"I have to pee before we go, too."

"Mm-hmm," Dee said knowingly.

Drake ignored it and crossed the small smoothie shop. He turned the corner and went down the hallway that led to a bathroom, kitchen and closet. There was only one gender neutral bathroom, so it wouldn't take any guessing to figure out which one Sal was in. He pushed on the door cautiously to be sure that it was unlocked. If not, maybe he'd misread her signs. However, the door opened.

"Jesus, there you are. I was beginning to think you were too chicken to show."

He didn't have time to speak before she shoved him against the door and pressed her lips against his. She wasted no time. She immediately began unbuckling his belt and getting him going with her hand. He didn't take long due to all the seductive lip-biting and alluring, lustful gazes she had been giving him over break. Drake slipped his hand into her pants and massaged her clitoris, but she was already wet and ready.

Suddenly, Sal pulled her mouth away and the eager boy met her eyes. She pulled a small, square wrapper out of her back pocket and held it against his chest. "No offense or anything, but I don't really know you like that."

She locked the door and removed her pants and panties while Drake put on the condom. He was glad she preferred it this way because he had one in his wallet that he'd planned on using anyway. After Mindy's unexpected pregnancy, he'd learned his lesson. He didn't have sex without a condom, except for with Dahlia because he knew her and she was on the pill.

The second the condom was on, he lifted her up and carried her over to the sink. Their lips smashed together and he started thrusting into her. He impatiently pulled open her button-up blouse and cupped her breasts in his hands and she pulled her lips away to let out a sigh. Drake felt her hands all over him, only this time, he didn't get any unwanted flashbacks.

"How do you like it?"

"Fast."

"Right there?" He knew that all women were different and he wasn't ashamed to ask questions. Maybe this is something he'd gotten used to on the streets. He'd learned to keep the line of communication open in order to make sure his customers always got what they paid for.

"A little to the left. Uh! Right there! Oh, god..."

He watched her close her eyes and tilt her head back, her body bouncing with his rapid thrusts.

"Uh... Talk dirty to me."

He did. He called her a slut and a bitch amongst other things and she talked about craving his dick and being impressed with the size of it. His climax started a bit after hers and he couldn't stop himself from letting go of a moan.

"Fuck..." he said on an exhale, then Sal picked up where he left off.

"Oh!... Uh!..." Despite her exclamations, she doubted anyone could hear outside the door. She made sure to be quieter than her normal self.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Not yet." It wasn't long before she finished, then she said, "Okay, go ahead."

She hardly managed to finish her sentence before he released himself. Another moan left him. He rested a sweaty palm on the mirror behind her to hold up his weight as he panted for breath. He opened his eyes and looked at her to make sure she looked satisfied. When he saw her grinning, he smiled back and let go of an out-of-breath chuckle. Sal closed the gap between them again and gave him a couple more kisses.

"You're cute." Her eyes sparkled as she squinted at him with amusement. "That was the most chivalrous quickie I've ever had."

He was still trying to catch his breath as he pulled away from her. "Was it okay?"

"Oh, it was more than okay. First time in months the guy was able to get me off."

"Really?" He removed the condom and tossed it into the mini trash can, then grabbed some toilet paper.

"I guess I'm not the easiest woman to please." She hopped off the counter and started cleaning herself off, too. "It was good for you?"

"Yeah, it was great." Drake fixed his jeans and washed his hands, then picked up Sal's clothes off the floor. "I'll go out first."

She nodded as she took the clothes. The young man unlocked the door. He only opened it a crack before slipping out and closing it behind him. He went down the hallway and back to the table. When he sat down, Dee was smirking at him.

"Everything came out fine?"

"Yep."

Dee just shook his head at the fact that Drake was still in denial. He reached up and combed his fingers through his friend's hair. "Dude, your hair is all over the fucking place."

Drake pushed his hand away so that he could fix it himself, but he still turned to him for confirmation.

"I hope you don't get her sick, dude."

"Shit! I forgot."

"Oh my god, you're an asshole." Dee chuckled. "You better tell her so she can get ahead of it and try to prevent it as much as possible. Forgot you were sick. Mother fucker..."

"Y'all are just in time," Ricardo called over his shoulder when he heard the door open. He pulled a pan out of the oven. "Dinner's ready."

Dee immediately made his way towards him while Drake stopped to take off his shoes. He leaned in and kissed his boyfriend's cheek, then got a real kiss in return.

"How'd rehearsals go?"

"It was exhausting today. We did a lot of the choreography."

"Oh, yeah?" He looked at Drake to gauge his reaction to the experience.

"Drake didn't have to do shit. He just sat on the bleachers and watched."

"But you were on the schedule, weren't you?"

Drake approached the two now to peek over and see what was for dinner: fish and vegetables. Ricardo always tried to cook healthy when he knew that Dee was coming for dinner. Dee was such a health-nut. Drake didn't mind. It was a nice break from the Mexican food they'd had for the past three nights in a row.

"I was just supposed to watch the guy playing Roger since I'm the understudy."

At this moment, Julio came down the stairs. "Did I hear you say dinner's done? I'm starving."

"Yeah."

"Hey, Julio," Dee said. "How've you been?"

"I'm feeling a lot better. Most days anyway."

The four boys made their plates and took them to be living room, but no one turned on the tv. Instead, they talked about their day or something they'd heard or whatever was on their minds.

"And she's literally staring him down the entire time," Dee was saying in the middle of dinner. "Like I don't even fucking exist, then she disappears to the bathroom. And this mother fucker right here!"

Ricardo and Julio were both grinning with amusement. Even Drake thought that Dee's retelling of what happened was funny.

"He's gonna sit there and tell me, 'Oh, I gotta go to the bathroom before we leave, too.' Biiitch!"

The room filled with laughter.

"Acting like there's more than one bathroom in that place. I was born, but it wasn't yesterday, honey."

Drake noticed that Ricardo's eyes sparkled and he hung on to every word his boyfriend spoke. He was so in love and Drake was glad that everything had worked out between the two of them — between all of them really. Ricky and Dee were back together, Drake and Julio were sober and everything felt alright for the first time in a long time.

"And then this mother fucker comes back like, 'Oh, Dee, I forgot I'm sick.'"

More laughter.

"I do not sound like that," Drake said.

"Trust me. You do."

The next day, Julio went into his brother's room around two o'clock in the afternoon. The quiet noise caught the man's attention, so he turned over to see who it was.

"Hey, what's up?" His nose was stuffy.

"Nothing. You sleeping?"

"No, just relaxing."

Julio sat down on the foot of the bed and faced his brother, then brought his knees up to his chest.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just bored. Drake's sleeping."

"I can watch a movie with you or something."

"Or maybe watch those old game-shows we watched with Abuelita when we were kids?"

Ricardo felt guilty that he couldn't actually recall the last time he and his little brother had hung out by themselves. He'd always been so protective of Drake and Julio had always seemed okay with that. Julio was the kid he thought he never had to worry about. Somehow he'd gotten so swept up with Drake's life that he'd neglected his brother's feelings, but now they had a chance to spend time together. Just the two of them. Little bro and big bro.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Unless you're too tired. We can do it another time."

"No, I'm not tired. I mean, my body's tired, but I've been laying here awake all morning."

Julio noticed that Ricky hadn't yet gotten out of bed for lunch, so he asked, "You hungry?"

"I'll probably get up and make something in a minute."

"I can make you some soup," his brother offered. Without waiting for an answer, he asked, "You want tomato or chicken noodle?"

"Tomato."

While Ricardo searched for the game-show channel that they hadn't watched in probably fifteen years, Julio went downstairs and got the can of soup out of the pantry. He poured it into a bowl and microwaved it, then began making some fried ham, cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches — one for Ricky and two for himself. While those sizzled in the pan, the microwaved beeped, so he pulled out the hot bowl and poured in some shredded cheese. The soup was warm enough to melt it, making it thick. Their mother had always made this for him when he was sick. It was his favorite sick food.

Julio got a tray to carry everything. He put the soup, the sandwiches, two cups of juice and some saltines on the platter, along with silverware and napkins, then he went upstairs. Ricardo was sitting up now and he was placing some pillows against the wall to rest his back on. He already had some set up for Julio, so the boy sat down, put his food and drink on the nightstand, then passed the tray over so that Ricky could place it on his lap.

"Oh, you made those fried ham and cheese sandwiches. I haven't had one in forever." He picked his up and dipped it in the soup, then took a bite. "Mmm."

"I figured I'd make one while you're sick like Mamá did."

"Thank you." Ricardo reached for the remote and turned the volume up on the tv a little, then he and his brother sat and watched the old game-shows that still aired repeats.

The ding of Drake's phone woke him. He didn't want to move, but it occurred to him that he'd asked Mrs. Hayfer to talk to her neighbors about Julio cutting their grass and he didn't want to leave her message without a response. He reached for his phone. Mrs. Hayfer had texted him, but that was an hour and a half ago. Apparently, he'd slept for longer than he thought. She wasn't who was messaging him now.

The name made his heart flutter with nerves and excitement. He didn't even think twice before he opened the message. Her message.

Dahlia Martin: hey Drake. Haven't heard from ya n a while. How ru?

The young man started to type that he was okay, but then he paused. Is this really a good idea? He wanted her to know that even without her, he was alive and well and sober, but mostly, he just wanted to talk to her. However, he had to stop being so impulsive about things. This always made trouble for him.

He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to talk to her so badly, but he couldn't do it behind the Santos brothers' backs. It was almost like he needed permission or he needed to convince them that a simple "I'm okay" is harmless. Drake stood and went into Ricardo's room, but the man was asleep. Next to him was his brother, who was already cautiously trying to get out of bed without waking the sleeper. Drake waited for him to join him in the hallway and Julio closed the door behind him.

"How's he feeling?" the boy asked.

"Getting better, but still kinda stuffed up and exhausted."

"Same."

"What's up?" Julio asked.

"You wanna come outside while I smoke a cigarette?"

"Sure."

Julio followed him downstairs and this time they sat in different spots than they had the other morning. He watched his friend light up, then shook his head when he was offered the pack. "Everything okay?"

Drake took in a breath and his lungs filled up with smoke. "Clem texted me."

"When?" His disdain for the girl was already clear in his voice.

"Just a few minutes ago."

"Did you say anything back?"

"Not yet."

"Yet?" With that, he knew what his friend was thinking. "Drake, you can't be serious."

"No, I wasn't gonna — I just..." He sighed as he pulled his legs up to rest his heels on the chair. "I want her to know that I'm fine without her."

"That's what you're telling yourself, but I know you. You miss her and you miss the abuse and you wanna get back into all that bullshit with her." He wasn't wrong. "You need to drop that shit."

"She was my fiancée, bro. I was gonna marry her. I can't just drop that shit like you're saying."

"You can. It's simple. Just don't respond. Block her."

"I...I don't want to."

Julio clenched his teeth. "Drake..." He sighed, then tried to calm himself. "I'm not trying to be...insensitive. I know you had hard feelings for her. I know you wanted to be with her forever. I do, okay? But look at me."

Hesitantly, Drake did and he wore that puppy dog expression despite not realizing he was doing it.

"If she really cared about you, do you think she would've done all of the shit that she did to you?"

"She was just doing what she thought was best."

"Best?! Bro, she turned you against me and my brother, your two best friends."

"She was just jealous."

"She wasn't jealous. She wanted to control you. She wanted you all to herself, like a mindless slave," Julio said. "I mean, Christ, Drake, she pretended to be Ricardo and sent you mean texts to make you feel bad."

"I admit she went a little overboard."

Julio was flabbergasted. "You tried to kill yourself because of her. She wanted you to kill yourself. Do you really think she cared about you?"

"She was just upset about the break-up."

"And you broke up because she was cheating on you."

"I cheated on her first. I slept with way more guys in two months than she did that whole year."

He wasn't getting through to him. He couldn't let Drake go down that road again. He couldn't let Dahlia wiggle her way back into their lives. "I know she raped you. Multiple times."

Drake didn't have a rebuttal for this one — not an immediate one anyway. Julio watched the emotions wash over his face as if he were reliving those moments. He went from shock to anger to embarrassment to fear to shame and then back to anger.

"Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It was Samantha, wasn't it?" He shook his head as he turned his eyes towards the flock of birds that left a telephone wire and flew to a nearby tree. If only he could escape a situation with that much ease. He chuckled nervously as if Julio couldn't be any further off from the truth even though he was spot on. "She didn't...rape...me." All these years later and he still hated that fucking word!

"You said the safe word. She kept going."

"It was part of the role-play."

"It was not part of the role-play." He was unwavering and confident as if he had been in the room with the couple when it had happened and Drake knew he wouldn't be able to change his mind.

"Who else thinks this?"

"Just Ricardo."

He felt himself getting upset, but he didn't know why exactly. He wasn't upset at Julio for calling him out on his lie even though that's what he was acting like. He was pissed at someone else and his friend was getting the heat for it. He was angry at Dahlia for putting him in this situation where he couldn't explain things. He didn't want the sex. He had asked her to stop. He'd begged her to stop. But she didn't. Why didn't she stop?

"So you guys have known this whole time and what?" Drake asked bitterly. "You just weren't gonna say anything?"

"We were waiting for you to talk about it when you were ready."

"There's nothing to talk about because she didn't do that!"

"Is it because she's a girl? Is that why you don't wanna admit it? Or because you love her? What is it that makes you still stick up for her after everything? The only other person you fought this hard to protect was your father. Do you not see the pattern? Do you not see the similarities with the verbal and physical and sexual abuse? Why are you trying to cover these up? Who are you protecting? Them?"

Drake's eyes watered over, so he refused to look at Julio.

"Or yourself?"

The young man hid his head between his knees. He left the question unanswered as he tried to grasp all of the new information that was been thrown at him. He couldn't believe Julio and Ricardo had known this whole time and that they'd refused to say anything about it. He wasn't sure why, but it made him feel like a fool — almost like he was the last one to know something embarrassing about himself. After it had happened — and kept happening — he'd repressed it. He'd refused to put a label on it and if there wasn't a label on it, then it was nothing and it meant nothing. If he didn't call it rape, then it wasn't rape...

...but that wasn't true. Julio was right. He'd said no. She'd done it anyway. Night after night after night until Samantha had come to his rescue. Samantha knew it. Brett knew it. Julio and Ricardo knew it.

Drake knew it. Dahlia had raped him.

Finally, the young man lifted his head. His voice was hard. "If I storm off in a rage to be alone so I don't blow up on you, are you gonna get upset and drink?" This was a whole new level of brutal honesty, but it was healthier than the alternatives.

Julio answered, "No."

He almost didn't get the word out all the way before Drake stood up with such anger that he almost knocked the chair over, which made Julio flinch. He grabbed his cigarettes and stomped down the steps without another word. He was out of sight in seconds. He felt himself being overwhelmed by an emotion that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he felt it all over every inch of his body and he just wanted to get away from it.

He started running. He ran and ran until his legs ached and he was out of breath, then he ran a little further. He felt the wind burning his eyes, but when they got blurry, he realized that he was crying and it was his tears that made them sting. Despite not having a specific destination in mind, he found himself at Theo's. Finally, he stopped running, but he still felt that weight on him and it was just as heavy as before. He stepped up onto the curb and leaned up against a tree to catch his breath, but it was kind of hard to do while he was sobbing. Moments later, he started puking.

The garage door opened and Drake looked over to see Theo coming outside.

"You feeling better?"

The young man had smoke coming out of his mouth as he said, "Yeah, thanks. Sorry to just show up like this."

"No, I get it. I'm glad you came here."

"I just knew you would be able to understand."

"I do."

"It's just different when it's someone you know you're stronger than. I could've fought my way out, but she used her words and used the emotions she knew I felt for her against me. She didn't need muscles to pin me down."

"It was the same way with my aunt. Believe me, I understand."

These were the words that Drake needed to hear. "Thanks. For listening. For everything."

"No problem. You know you're free to come over anytime, and if you wanna stay the night tonight, that's cool. You know my mom loves you and my sister thinks you're dope as fuck."

"Yeah, your sister's nice. I like her." Drake flicked his ashes in the tray that Mrs. Quest used.

"Not like that, though?" It sounded like a question, but it was more of a demand.

"No, no, nothing like that that," the boy assured, then, "Why? You think I have a chance with her before she goes back to the base?"

"Bro! Not cool!"

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Your nerd ass could beat my ass in a heartbeat."

"Hundred percent. She taught me how to fight last time she was down."

"She's really good?"

"Oh, yeah. I didn't know she was any good at first and somehow I ended up challenging her to this wrestling match and had my ass handed to me."

"That's right."

The two boy turned towards the new voice. It was Cara. She had left out the front door of the house to take out the trash and she'd overheard them on the way to the bin.

"Even if you two teamed up against me, I can take both of you down in less than a minute."

Drake didn't doubt her. She had more muscles than he did, which wasn't saying much considering who he was, but she was very fit and muscular. He caught himself internally debating who would win in a fight against her and Julio. Julio could pack a punch — Drake knew this from experience — but he didn't have the training that she did.

"You had someone calling you, Theo." Cara tossed the phone quite a ways to her older brother.

"You're just gonna throw my phone like that?!" He caught it and looked at it while she hefted the garbage bag into the can.

"Also, Drake," she said as she wiped off her hands, "you'd never have a chance with me. I like my men with some muscle." She headed back inside, this time taking the garage route.

"No, I wasn't — it was just a joke. I wasn't—"

However, she disappeared inside."

"—serious... Shit!" His face was beet red.

"Well, I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore," Theo said with an amused smirk.

"Fuck you."

"Hey, it was Ricardo who called. He texted, too."

"What'd he say?" Drake furrowed his brows.

"Asking if you were here. I didn't reply yet because I don't know if you're trying to not be found, buuut I don't wanna lie to him because I'm scared he'll kill me."

"No, I wasn't trying to hide or anything. I'll call him back."

Theo passed him the phone, then went back inside to give him space. Drake called Ricky's number, then got an answer on the second ring.

"Hey, Theo. It's me, Drake's friend."

"It's me, Ricky."

"Oh, good. You alright?"

"Yeah. Sorry if you called. I guess I left my phone inside while I smoked."

"No, your phone's here. Julio said you left it on the porch when you left."

"Oh, shit, did I?" Now he understood why Ricardo was so quick to call around. It looked sketchy to leave behind something he knew that the man was tracking. It made it look like he was going somewhere he shouldn't and didn't want to have proof against him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry."

"So you've just been at Theo's."

"Yeah. He can tell you what time I got here and vouch for me if you need me to—"

"No, it's okay," Ricardo said. "I'm gonna take your word for it on this one."

Drake was earning his trust back and it felt really nice.

"So it's getting dark. Are you gonna stay there tonight or do you want me to come pick you up?"

"Do you feel like picking me up? Or I can walk back. It's not a big deal."

"No, I'll come."

"Julio's okay?" the boy asked.

"Yeah, Julio's fine. He's just playing video games."

"Okay. I'll see you when you get here."

"Alright, bye."

Julio turned off his video game just as he saw lights shine through the window. They were back home. He went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of soda, then turned towards the foyer as the door opened. Julio saw two cats run across the kitchen entryway and towards the front door, then he heard Drake's voice, followed by profuse meowing.

"You eat yet?" came Ricardo's voice. "Julio made food. He left you a plate in the microwave."

"I smell it. Is that fajitas?"

"Yeah."

Drake entered the kitchen and saw his friend standing by the counter. "Hey, bro. Sorry, I ran off like that."

"It's cool."

The young man took his food out of the microwave. It was still somewhat warm. He poured himself some juice, then sat down in one of the bar-stools. "What have you been up to?" He took his first bite of the steak fajitas.

"Just playing Rocket League. You?"

"You want any ice cream?" Ricardo asked his brother as he pulled the tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream out of the freezer.

"I'll take a little bit."

"I went for a run and then I ended up at Theo's," Drake said.

"Trying to get back into exercising?"

"Eh, I don't know." The young man shrugged. "Just needed to clear my head."

"Did you talk to Dahlia?"

This time, Ricardo pulled his attention away from the dessert that he was scooping and looked at their roommate, too.

"No. I decided not to. Like you said, I need to let that shit go."

Julio could tell that he was genuine, but there was still hurt in his eyes. He went around the island and gave his friend a one-armed hug from behind. Drake hugged back the only way he could in this position, which was by gripping his forearm that was underneath his neck. He could feel tears coming up again and he tried to blink them away before the young man could see them, but Ricardo saw them.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He sniffled. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Julio sat down on the stool next to him and observed him. "You don't want me to touch you?" He was about to apologize for the spontaneous hug, but Drake stopped him.

"No, it's not that."

Drake had no idea what was happening or where it was coming from, but suddenly a couple body-shaking sobs left him. He thought that talking through things with Theo had solved the issue. It had definitely helped. Still, he felt the need to come clean to the Santos brothers, the two boys who had been with him every step of the way during his recovery — who knew everything about him. Even though they knew, he still felt like he was living a lie because he hadn't been the one to tell them. Shit, he hadn't even really accepted it until a few hours ago.

"What's wrong?" Ricardo had forgotten about the ice cream and was standing on the other side of Drake, rubbing his bicep.

"I just..." Drake hung his head and wiped his eyes.

"Is it because of what I said to you on the porch?" Julio asked. "I shouldn't have said that. I was just mad. I should've let you open up about it on your own time."

"But that's the thing," his voice cracked out. "I never would have. I just buried it deep inside of me like it never happened — like if I didn't put a name on it, then it never happened, but it did. You were right." The lump in his throat was so big that it was even harder to get the next words out. They came out on a sob, which made them a bit louder than the others and that made him cry even harder. "She raped me."

This time, Ricardo hugged him. He pulled him against his chest and let him soak his shirt with tears while he rubbed his back. Suddenly, that same emotion he'd felt while running was back and it was just as strong. He understood it now, though, as it washed over him. He knew what it was.

It was hatred. He hated Clementine Martin.

Drake grabbed the four books off of his computer desk, then stacked them up in the middle of the floor right between his bed and the door. It was the Divergent series (Divergent, Insurgent, Allegiant and Four: A Divergent Story Collection). He'd finished all of them and needed to return them, but he knew he'd forget unless he literally put them in the way of his path to the bathroom in the morning.

Drake sat down and started petting his kittens when they surrounded him. Suddenly, the door whipped opened and hit the stack of books, knocking it over.

"Hey, bro." Julio looked down. "Shit. Oops." A more confused look took over his face. "Why are these here?"

"So I don't forget that they need to go back to Mrs. Hayfer. Are you still going tomorrow?"

"Her neighbors said it was cool?" When Drake nodded, he asked, "You mind dropping me off?" His license were suspended after the DUI.

"Sure."

"Cool. You don't have to set an alarm or anything. I'll just go whenever you wake up." There was a moment of awkward silence, then Julio asked what he'd really come to ask. "How are you doing?"

"Well, I think I've cried all that I can cry for now."

"You gonna be alright on your own tonight?"

"Yeah. Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer are keeping me company."

"I'm sure they've missed you after you spent the week in my room."

"Yeah." Drake picked up one of the kittens and held him against his chest.

"Alright, I'm gonna go on to bed. Night."

"Night."

Soon after he left, Drake reached over and turned off his lamp, then laid down. He wasn't like that for long before he received a text. He picked up his phone to check.

Dahlia Martin: u cant ignore me

When Drake walked inside, he went into the kitchen, which is where he heard noises coming from. Ricardo was packing a lunch for work. He wrapped up the two leftover fajitas from last night and headed for the pantry. On his way, he saw Drake.

"Hey, did you think to tell Mrs. Hayfer I'm not gonna make it to dinner again tonight?"

"I did."

"I feel bad. This is the second time in a row I've had to skip because someone's called out on me."

"She understands," Drake said as he sat down on a bar-stool.

Ricardo glanced at him as he carried a bag of cheeto puffs back to his lunchbox. His sickness seemed to have subsided for the most part. "What's that?"

"I stopped by the library and got a book."

Ricardo moved closer and looked over the boy's shoulder to read the title, which was Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction. There were immediately red flags. "Back to drug books?"

"I just wanted to go back to my kind of book. I liked what people kept recommending, but I just wanted to do my own thing again for a while."

The fact that it was about addiction wasn't the only thing to watch out for. It was about a father who most likely cared and loved his son. Drake never had that. That alone could be dangerous.

"Well," he sighed, then he moved towards the counter to pour some coffee into his travel mug, "you know what I always tell you when you read shit like that. If it gets overwhelming, just put it down and take a breather. Even if it's mid-chapter. I know that's annoying."

"I know." Beautiful Boy was written by David Sheff, father of meth addict Nic Sheff, who had written Tweak, the first book Drake had checked out from the library. When the young man had read that book, he'd had to take a lot of breaks.

"And you know there's plenty of people you can talk to if you need to."

He did know. A lot of people supported him now, or maybe they already had. Maybe he just never was willing to accept that support until now.

"I know," he said again.

Ricardo picked up his lunchbox, travel mug, keys and wallet and started towards the front door. "Alright, I'm heading out. Be good."

"Always," Drake called over his shoulder.

"Drake, hey, come on in," Mrs. Hayfer said as she held the door open wider. "You feeling better?"

"Still a bit stuffy, but I do feel a lot better."

"That's good."

Drake followed her into the kitchen. When he saw that the table wasn't yet prepared, he started to help set it. "Is that pot roast?"

"It is. With carrots and peas and potatoes."

"It smells amazing," he said. "Where's Julio?"

"He's in the shower. He did a good job on the yard."

"Yeah, I saw. It looks good." The young man set the third plate down, then went for the silverware. "Did Julio give you your books back?"

"He did. How'd you like them?"

"They were really good. Thanks for letting me borrow them."

They continued their light chat about their thoughts on the books, the characters, the ending, et cetera. Drake told her about the book he'd gotten at the library and summarized the chapters he had read so far. While he did this, Alice moved the food to the table and Julio entered the kitchen just in time to help her with the vegetables.

The three gathered around the table and dug in. Continuing with the book conversation, the teacher began telling the boys about her summer reading list and Julio discussed his indecisiveness about whether he wanted to go back to school or back to work. Drake told them about rehearsals and about one song in particular that he enjoyed practicing the most. Alice invited him to bring his copy one day when he wasn't busy so that she could see the film before the live production.

"You're coming?" the boy asked.

"Of course. If you don't mind."

He didn't mean to look so shocked, but sometimes her kindness still took him by surprise. She saved his life twice. She went to see him everyday in the ICU. She visited him in the mental hospital. She came to his surprise birthday party. She gave him the opportunity to earn money. She fed him dinner. She let him borrow books. She opened her door to him when he was upset. She offered him a place to live. He'd called her a cunt in front of the whole class back in high school and now she was coming to see him perform in Rent to show support...as if she even needed to do anything more than she already did to prove that she cared about him.

"No, that would be great," Drake said.

Julio saw his friend glowing with excitement as he continued to gush about his favorite musical of all time. Music was a long-time passion for Drake and although he wasn't rocking out at their usual spot like they used to do together, at least he was back on stage in some form and doing what he loved to do.

"Knock knock."

Drake turned towards his bedroom door to see Ricardo. "Hey, what's up?" He picked up a stack of movies out of one of the drawers in his computer desk and carried it over to the bookshelf Mrs. Hayfer had gotten for him.

"Not tired?"

"I was gonna do this before I lay down."

"What are you doing?"

"Putting my books and movies over here."

Ricardo took a seat on the foot of the bed and watched Drake work in silence for a minute before it finally clicked.

"Is everything okay?" the boy asked as he brushed his hair out of his face. He took a seat in the computer chair and tried to search his mind for a reason as to why he might be in trouble. It came to him just as Ricky spoke.

"I wanted to talk about you not taking your medicine. We didn't get to yesterday since Dee was over."

Drake sighed, then spun back towards his desk and began pulled out more DVD cases. "There's really nothing to talk about."

"Look, I'm not here to argue or yell at you. I just want you to hear me out and I'll hear you out." Ricardo absently pet whichever kitten nudged his elbow as he watched his friend add the stack in his hand to the shelf. "I know taking this medicine is a weird transition. My brother and I just want you to get better and because of what you've been through and the way that it still affects you, I don't think... Obviously, I'm glad you're gonna see that counselor and I think it could be really good, but I just think that you need...a little more help than that." He was met with more silence, but then there was a sigh on Drake's end.

"I just feel like the pills aren't changing anything. I've been taking them long enough for them to have kicked in. If they were gonna work, they should be working by now."

"We can talk to someone about trying something different."

"I just don't like taking meds. Either they don't work or they do and then I'm not even me anymore."

"Of course you'll still be you, Drake. Taking medication to make your day go by easier doesn't change who you are. You become the person you were meant to be before all the sadness."

"Julio never started taking his prescription when he went years ago because he didn't want the pills to change him either."

Ricardo knew then that this wasn't Drake talking. It was Dahlia. Even after all this time apart, she was still in his head. Her thoughts clouded up his mind. Her words came out of his mouth.

The boy continued. "Why doesn't he have to take medicine? Why do you both want me to change so badly? What's wrong with this me?"

"God, no, nothing, Drake. We love this you," Ricky assured. "I don't want you to change. I just want you to be happy."

He didn't have anymore films or novels to put away, but he didn't want to have to face the man when he spoke to him, so he started rearranging things in alphabetical order. His voice was quiet when it left him. "What if that's not possible?"

"I don't believe that."

Drake fell silent, but Ricardo stayed. He sat there trying to think of the right words to say, but they weren't coming to him. This was all Dahlia. Even after the bad break-up, she still controlled him.

"Drake—" The man stopped abruptly. Despite how much he didn't like the girl, she was still his ex-fiancée and Drake was still quick to defend her always. He sighed. "...Drake, do you remember before everything happened when you had that appointment to get medicine for the first time? You were really excited to go, but then Dahlia got in your ear and you changed your mind. Do you know why she didn't want you to get help? It's because she didn't want you to be happy. She knew she wouldn't be able to control you if she stopped being the only good thing you thought you had in your life. She wanted your depression and your anxiety and your insecurities and your fear to weigh you down so that she could use that to her advantage and manipulate you into doing whatever she wanted. Nothing she told you was true — nothing about what she said me and Julio think about you and certainly nothing she told you about yourself. I wish you'd stop letting her get in your head."

"Why do you always have to make this a you verses Clem thing? I'm not a kid. I can make my own decisions. Just because I don't agree with you, it doesn't mean I decided not to take meds because she didn't want me to. I don't want to take them because I don't want to."

This wasn't true, but Drake didn't see it. He was always under constant control, whether by her or Martin or Tad or even Ricardo. Control is one thing that he'd never had and had never been taught. Since his preteens, his father had complete control over him. Even when he wasn't with him, Drake always heard his voice inside his head. There was a time when Tad had ruled over him. A simple look could get the boy on his knees. When he'd left everything and everyone and became homeless, he still hadn't been in control of his life. Charlie had. Those men who told him how they wanted it had. Those men who didn't take no for an answer and did things the way they wanted to had. Ricardo, who had the best of intentions and never forced anything but the start of his sobriety three years ago, controlled him, too, but in a different way. He wasn't demanding or manipulating or anything like that. He simply spoke his opinion and Drake had always been so eager to please him that he usually listened for the most part.

Since he was born, Drake had been a passenger in his own body. His father had taught him that no matter how much he begged or fought, he would never be in control of his own life. There were times when he'd let Martin have his way with him. Sometimes, he wouldn't even resist. He let Tad fuck him in his and Meelah's secret spot at the park. He let Dahlia hit him. He let Charlie take over just to numb himself from all this.

It was like Seligman's psychology experiment on learned helplessness. The dog became conditioned to the idea that it couldn't escape the shocks being administered to it, so even when it had the chance to get away, it just laid down and accepted the pain. In a way, it accepted that it had no control of his own life. Drake was this dog.

Ricardo sighed, but despite his dissatisfaction, he said, "I said I wasn't going to argue, so I'm not gonna keep pushing you to do something you don't wanna do. You know where I stand on it and I hope you at least think about it. No matter what you choose, you can always come to me and talk about anything. Don't think I don't wanna hear about your feelings because you won't take medicine."

"You're mad."

"No, I'm not mad. A little disappointed with your decision, but that's exactly what it is: your decision."

"I just don't like taking them." Finally, Drake turned in his chair and looked at him.

"I know."

"Maybe the counseling will work," he said optimistically.

"Yeah, I hope so. I really do."

Hero looked down at her lap where Drake's head lay. She could tell by his slow breathing that he had fallen asleep. She was pretty exhausted herself after the sex they'd had not too long ago, but she hated sleeping during the daytime.

Although he was asleep, she continued to run her fingers through his brown hair like she had been doing. She reached for the remote that rested on the arm of the couch and turned the television volume down slightly. Last night's recording of America's Got Talent was playing. He always asked her not to watch it without him, hence why she was a day late, but she knew that he was just trying to please her. He never complained or gave off any verbal hints, but she knew he didn't like the show. This wasn't the first time he had fallen asleep during it.

Still, she thought it was nice of him to keep her company. Her relationship with Drake wasn't serious, but every now and then, she found herself wondering what it would be like if it was. He was kind to her. Her understood her tragic loss and her daddy issues. He always seemed to say the right things. The sex was great. He didn't try to rush her into putting a name on whatever it was they had. He asked once and they discussed it and he hasn't brought it up since. He was just content with being with her and she was beginning to wonder if that would be enough for her.

Hero was falling in love with him. She couldn't keep denying it. She always tried to suppress those feelings, but they only grew stronger. She was in love with a twenty-two year old kid. She was old enough to be his mother and that's probably what she was to him — some kind of replacement to help him release his pent up mommy issues. He didn't talk about her. She only knew what he'd said back at the mental hospital. He fucked up really bad and got kicked out. He hadn't seen her in three years.

He probably didn't even share the same feelings. Maybe they'd formed some sort of strange connection because of where they met and she was sure he genuinely enjoyed her company, but he couldn't possibly be in love with her. She was old. She was boring. Sure, the sex was fun and the conversation was nice, but Drake would never want to be in a serious committed relationship with her. When he brought that up, it was because of his mommy issues and the confusion they caused.

Ding!

Hero glanced at the cell phone that rested on the coffee table in front of her. It was Drake's. Her eyes then turned to the boy, but he remained immobile. She looked at his bare chest, which still rose and fell in that same slow pattern. One of his hands was under his head and the other on her knee. Before he had fallen asleep, he was rubbing gently up and down her skin. She was only wearing a tank top and panties because today felt like one of those days where they would fuck and then watch tv and then fuck again and then eat and then fuck again and then nap and then fuck again. The last time they spent a day like this, he gave her cunnilingus for three hours straight. She'd had a whopping twelve orgasms and that was just in that time frame alone. It didn't include the times of actual penetration when he had recharged and was ready to go.

Drake was one of those guys who loved pleasuring the person he was with just as much as he liked getting off himself. He would spend all day between her legs if she wanted him to. He was very skilled in that department, but he'd had a lot of practice. He'd slept with a lot of different girls — guys, too — and that gave him a lot of experience. There were a few people in particular that he learned from. Meelah was the first girl he'd gone with willingly. She taught him the basics and helped him unlearn everything that fucker from the mental hospital had taught him about sex. She was the love of his life and he'd made love to her on an emotional and spiritual level.

He learned a lot from Kenzly, too. Neither had been strangers to sex, but they were still young and curious. They did a lot of practicing and experimenting during their many sessions. They came to each other with new positions, new role-plays, new fantasies. Anything they were too embarrassed to mess up on with someone new, they would get together and try it out on each other first. Their sex life could be described as freaky and weird, but in the best way possible.

Molly introduced toys, bondage, torture and humiliation. She was Drake's subconscious decision to justify what was happening to him at home and to help him cope with the fact that sometimes he ejaculated even when he didn't want to. She was the pain he thought he deserved — the punishment to his body for being so weak and damaged. She was the first person he allowed to peg him, which opened his world up to an entirely new feeling. He became curious.

The first dick he ever sucked belonged to Tad and it certainly wasn't the last time that man had put his penis in Drake's mouth. He was with Tad for his first threesome, too. An entirely different array of new emotions, positions, role-plays and toys entered the picture. It was from him and from his dad and from the men at the truck stop and from the nurse at the mental hospital and from Dahlia that he learned what was probably the most important, yet most damaging lesson of all: that his only purpose in life was to provide sexual gratification to any man or woman that demanded it from him. He was a sex object. He was a dick. He was an anus. He was a mouth. Those were the parts of him that seemed to get the most use. They were the only parts that anyone seemed to care about. Maybe that's why he loved pleasing his sex partners so much. Maybe now he can use all he was taught on people who actually appreciated it — who actually appreciated him. Maybe that's the only way he'd ever feel worth something.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Drake's phone was blowing up and somehow this still didn't wake him. After one last ding!, Hero picked up his phone. She was just going to check to see if it was either of his friends because she knew that if either of them were trying to get in touch with him this aggressively, then something was wrong. She wasn't going to open it — she hated people who pried — but when she saw the name of Drake's ex on the screen, she couldn't stop herself. His phone wasn't currently password protected so it opened right up to the messages from Clem. Well, they were mostly just pictures — four of them.

Dahlia Martin: hey hubby. I miss ur cute face. here r those pics u were begging for

Dahlia Martin: [picture message]

Dahlia Martin: [picture message]

Dahlia Martin: [picture message]

Dahlia Martin: [picture message]

Dahlia Martin: enjoy! [wink emoji]

Hero lost her breath when she saw the nude photos and her face went beet red. The first emotion that filled her was sadness, then jealousy, then anger. She shouldn't feel jealous right now. Why was she jealous? It's not like they were a couple. Drake had asked. She was the one who had said no. They talked about this. They talked about keeping things casual. They talked about not tying each other down. They talked about being allowed to fuck other people, so why was she jealous?

She'd fallen for him. That's why. Hero had fallen for someone she could never be with. They were too different. He was too young. She was too damaged. Most importantly, her father would never approve. Drake was a jobless, white ex-junkie who was half her age. Her dad would never approve of him. She was forty-four years old and he still had a strong grasp on her life.

She and Drake would never work and why should it? Why should he hang around her when he has such young, hot pussy practically throwing herself at him? She couldn't compete. She couldn't keep doing this. He could never love her like that — like she loved him.

"Hey, it's time for you to go." Hero put his phone back where it had been and shook his shoulder. "Hey, wake up." She stood, causing his head to suddenly fall against the couch. This woke him. She disappeared into the bedroom, then came back moments later carrying his jeans and shirt. "You need to leave."

Drake pushed himself up tiredly and rubbed his heavy eyes. "Hmm?"

"It's time for you to go." She tossed his clothes at him, but he was half asleep and didn't catch the passive aggression in the sling.

"Oh, okay." He pulled the shirt over his head, then picked up his pants and stuck his feet through the holes. "Time is it?" His voice was strained from tiredness. He lazily pulled the denim up his legs, then forced himself onto his feet to finish pulling the jeans up over his boxers.

"A little after one."

Drake saw the sun shining through the window and this struck him as odd that he was being sent home so early. "Are you going somewhere?"

"No."

"Did something come up?"

"No. I just wanna be alone."

He buttoned and zipped his pants, then started on the belt that was already looped through. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she spat.

"Are you sur—"

"I said I'm fine!" snapped Hero.

Drake's brows furrowed. "Did I do something?"

"I just want you to go."

He just stood there baffled at this sudden mood shift. She'd never acted like this towards him before and he was extremely confused.

"Go!" The upset woman grabbed his wrist and the sudden movement caused his to flinch. She started pulling him towards the front door.

"I don't understand. What did I do?"

He sounded like a wounded puppy if wounded puppies could talk. She hated that she was being so cruel to him, but she couldn't find it in herself to not treat him this way. She was furious and sad and frustrated and suddenly she started to cry, which left the young man even more confused.

"Did I say something in my sleep? Did I hurt your feelings? I'm sorry. I'm all fucked up."

"You didn't say anything. I just want you to leave."

"But like, not for good, right?" he asked with a childlike hope in his voice. "Right?" He felt a heaviness in his chest when she didn't answer. "I'm sorry. What did I do? I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. You know I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

They were at the front door now. Hero opened it for him, but he just turned back to her.

"I'm sorry. I really like you. I didn't mean to fuck this up."

"I want you to leave."

"Please, just — what did I do?"

Her tears fell freely — too many to wipe away. "Go."

"I don't understand. I don't know — I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She clenched her teeth together to keep herself from letting out the sobs that were gathered in her throat. "Drake," she said so harshly that it even scared her, "get out."

As he stared at her in utter confusion, she saw his eyes glaze over with water. He was being discarded again. He was being kicked to the curb, just like his own mother had done to him twice before. This time, however, he didn't know what he'd done to deserve it. He didn't dare to speak again because Hero looked like she was ready to bite his head off and tear it into shreds. Instead, he did what she said and he left. As he walked down the sidewalk, he was completely unaware that Dahlia was watching him from behind a tree.

"Uh...H7."

"Miss," Dee said.

"Where the fuck...?" Ricardo whispered under his breath as he picked up a white peg and stuck in into his Battleship map.

Both of them were on the couch facing each other and Julio was on the floor watching. He could see both of their boards and Dee was winning by three ships. He'd won against Julio, too, so if he did beat Ricardo, then he'd get his rematch and he was starting to see a pattern as to where Dee hid his ships.

"D1," Dee guessed.

"Miss."

Their attention turned to the front door as it opened. Ricardo couldn't even get out a greeting before Drake went past and jogged upstairs. Obviously, something was wrong. Luckily, Julio stepped in so that he wouldn't have to separate from his boyfriend.

"I got this one."

He went upstairs and found his friend in his bedroom. Drake was breathing heavily as an attempt to cease his crying and calm himself, but he wasn't doing so well.

"What's wrong?"

"Hero kicked me out."

"Why? What happened?" He sat on the edge of the bed and faced his friend.

"I don't know, but she doesn't wanna see me again." Drake could no longer hold back the sobs. He hung his head and rested it in his hand as his back jerked. When Julio reached out to give him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, Drake shoved his hand away a bit more aggressively than he meant to. Despite this, his voice was soft. "Please don't."

"Okay." Julio backed up even further until he was at the foot of the bed to give his friend more space. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

He was quiet for a while and just offered the comfort of his company. Getting dumped sucked, but Julio didn't quite understand why Drake was so upset. He and Hero haven't known each other for that long and he said they were just keeping it casual. He just fucked some girl in his theatre group the other day. How could he be this upset about the split?

"Did you guys have an argument?"

"No. I don't know what happened. She just woke me up and kicked me out." Drake wiped his nose and sniffled, but he continued to cry. "I kept apologizing, but she didn't care. She wouldn't even tell me what I did." His voice cracked out, "Like I'm not even worth an explanation."

With those words, Julio understood. He wasn't upset about the end of the relationship or the semi-relationship or whatever it was. This was Drake's first semblance of a relationship since Dahlia and despite the inevitable end that was bound to come at some point, he felt personally at fault for it being over.

"Something's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you," Julio disagreed.

"No one fucking likes me."

"Of course they do, bruh."

"Clem was right. No one will ever wanna be with me. I'm too fucked up."

"You're not. You just broke things off with your fiancée. You're just beginning to put yourself back out there. You can't expect to find something serious with the first woman that takes you home. There are plenty of girls who throw themselves at you all the time — guys, too."

"But then they get caught in all my chaos and they get to know who I really am and they leave. I'm gonna be alone forever."

On the outside, it looked like Drake was whining about a pre-doomed, kind-of-not-really relationship he had been in for less than a month, but Julio knew what was actually going on on the inside. Drake was spiraling and not because of Hero; this had nothing to do with Hero. He was reliving the moments when his dad and Dahlia had put him down. They always told him this would happen — that no one could ever love him. They would tell him everything that was wrong with him. Most of them were made up just to hurt him, but he believed everything they said.

"Alright." Julio stood. "Come with me."

"Why?"

"Get up. Let's go."

Downstairs, Dee was pulling the red and white pegs out of his Battleship map. "Wow, you sank one whole ship in the time it took me to sink five of yours."

"So you're gonna brag now?

"I just feel like that's gotta be statistically impossible."

"Shut the fuck up."

Just then, the two younger boys passed by the living room and disappeared out the front door just as quickly as Drake had entered it not long ago. The couple on the couch looked at each other with confusion and curiosity.

"You need to go see what's up?" Dee asked.

He considered it. His first instinct was to run after them and make sure they weren't about to do anything dumb. Clearly, Drake was upset, so either Julio was about to make him feel better by beating the shit out of whomever had hurt him (which is what he'd looked like he was going to do) or he was going to make him feel better by taking him out to get drunk. Those were the only two things that Ricardo could think of. Julio drinking would be catastrophic. Surely, Drake wouldn't let that happen, but he was upset and Drake could do a lot of damage to himself and others when he was upset.

However, he trusted Drake and he trusted his brother. He couldn't keep letting their problems consume his life. He had a relationship to consider now. He had his own life.

"No. Julio said he'll handle it, so..."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. They'll be fine without me this time."

Now Dee felt as important to Ricardo as Ricardo was to him. His lips turned upwards slightly and he was reminded just how much he loved the man sitting next to him. "Julio looked like he's gonna beat someone's ass," he joked.

"Little bro's gotta protect his big bro."

Dee watched Ricardo pick up the box for the game and put his map inside. "No rematch, huh?"

"Hell no."

"Not ready to take that ass whooping?"

"I didn't say that." With that, the tone of the conversation went from competitive to sexual.

"No?" Dee said with a smirk. "You tryna smash?"

This made Ricardo laugh. "Well, this no-sex thing doesn't mean we can't fool around a little, right?"

"I don't know. I've been thinking that this no-sex thing is a little...antiquated."

"Yeah?"

"Because we're hitting our thirties. Some of us closer than others."

"Fuck you," Ricardo said playfully.

"Well, if you say so."

There was a look shared between them and then they were both connected at the lips. They hadn't fucked in weeks, but neither could hold off anymore and it showed. Dee pulled his boyfriend's shirt off, then pushed his back down against the couch and climbed on top of him. They continued to kiss for a few moments, then Ricardo pushed him up.

"What if they come back?"

"Fuck 'em."

Dee could feel the man smiling when he pressed their lips together again. Ricky's hands were on his waist and as they moved upwards, they pushed Dee's tee up to his armpits. Dee pulled away only to remove it, then he was back on him again.

"I don't really want to—"

"I don't care," Julio interrupted. "We're going."

Drake wasn't crying anymore, so that was good at least. After getting in the driver's seat, he learned that their destination was Hero's house. This was the last place he wanted to be, but Julio was very demanding and Drake worried that he might get behind the wheel with a suspended license and take the boy there himself if he didn't obey him. Julio believed that Hero had called it quits because of her own shit and not because of Drake's shit. He didn't want his best friend to feel so loathsome and insecure about himself, so Hero and Drake were going to talk this out one way or another.

However, if it was because of Drake's baggage, Julio wasn't sure how he would comfort the boy yet, but he would probably think of something once his friend started crying because he was always able to help him through rough times upon seeing his tears. It was kind of crazy actually. All those years of knowing each other and the first time Drake had cried in front of him was after Rhinestone had told everyone about him giving fellacio to Tad for an A. That was the last time until he moved in three years ago, then he was crying everyday. Getting off those drugs left him an emotional wreck. There were constant spirals, mood swings, meltdowns. It was just as new to Drake as it was to the two brothers and he was thankful that they were there to help him through all the new overwhelming emotions. Even though crying was a frequent occurrence with Drake, Julio's heart broke for him every time. Even back at the hospital after telling him he hated him, Julio still comforted him when he was upset about having to get a larger draining tube put in his side and having to have the surgery on his ribs. In the mental hospital, the first thing Julio did on visitation day after hearing the news of what had happened to him there in his childhood was give him a hug. No matter how much he'd hated him, he could never forget just how much he loved him.

"What am I supposed to say?" Drake said.

"Just ask for an explanation."

"I already did."

"Ask again."

"This just feels weird," said the young man. "I mean, we weren't even serious. We were just fucking. If she doesn't wanna do that anymore, she really doesn't owe me an explanation for that."

"You had feelings for her, though." Julio said, catching his friend off guard.

"No." He was interrupted before he could say more.

"Yes, you did."

Drake went quiet. Julio wasn't wrong. He did have feelings for Hero. It was way too soon to call it love, but he really enjoyed her company. He knew Hero didn't feel the same because she made it very clear that she wasn't his girlfriend when he brought it up, but he was okay with that. Jumping into a relationship this soon after the whole Dahlia thing was not a good idea anyway.

They drove the rest of the way in silence and it wasn't long before they pulled into Hero's driveway. Drake didn't feel right about showing up unannounced, so after he turned off the ignition, he pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" Julio asked.

"I'm texting her."

Drake Parker: im outside can we talk

"Does it look like I've been crying?" he asked.

"Uhhh, lil bit," Julio answered honestly.

"Shit," Drake whispered to himself as he checked the mirrors. His sniffled, but he wasn't really stuffed up so much anymore.

Drake started to think that she didn't want to talk, but finally after three minutes, she opened the front door. Despite spending the last couple minutes fixing up her makeup in the bathroom, it was obvious that she, too, had been crying. She watched as the boy got out of the car and walked up her driveway. As he neared closer, she moved to the side and let him come in.

"You brought your friend?"

"Sorry, he kinda invited himself."

"He's not coming in?"

"No."

Hero closed the door and led him into the dining room. It felt less intimate that she chose to sit across from him here rather than next to him on the couch. It was like she was strictly business.

"I'm sorry to just show up," he started after they were both seated.

Hero felt awful when she met his red-rimmed eyes. He'd been crying. He'd been crying because of her. This puzzled her because he couldn't possibly love her.

"I just feel like I don't know what I did," he said. "You know I would never do anything on purpose to hurt you."

"Let me see your phone," she said.

"What?"

"Let me see."

Drake handed it over. He had nothing to hide. He had nothing to hide, right? He didn't have anyone's nudes saved, but he started getting paranoid that maybe he did. He hadn't texted any other girls, but what if he had? He got nervous like this a lot. It reminded him of the room checks Ricardo used to give him frequently. He had been clean and sober from Triple C's. He hadn't bought a box, but sometimes he would panic and question it. Like, maybe he did buy a box and forgot. Once, he was at this place that had metal detectors. He never owned a gun, but it didn't stop him from having a mini freak-out and ponder if he did somehow have a gun on him suddenly. It's like when you take the car key out of the ignition and put it in your pocket, then you grab your wallet and still check to be sure you grabbed the key, then you get out and lock the door and double-check to make sure you didn't leave the key. After you close the door, you check once more just to be sure that you have it. Drake did stuff like this all the time.

He was nervous when she held his phone out to him. Apparently, she went through it earlier, but he was more concerned with what she had found than that fact. Maybe she found him talking shit about her to someone else. He never once did that, but maybe he did and forgot. Maybe she was mad at him for posting her private pictures on his Facebook page. He never did that either, but maybe he did and forgot. He didn't have the best memory after getting off drugs, but being off drugs also made him think that his memory was worse than it actually was, if that made sense. Like, if he did talk shit about her or post her nudes to his Facebook, it would surprise him that he did that, but it wouldn't surprise him that he forgot even though his memory wasn't anywhere near bad enough to forget something such as that.

Already, he was wracking his brain for an apology sufficient enough for publicly posting her vagina for all the world to see. Anxiety could create some of the craziest scenarios. However, when he took his phone back, it wasn't Hero's naked body that he saw. He took a sudden sharp inhale from the shock of seeing that face and that body again and it just occurred to him that he had been holding his breath. She was so fucking hot and he was still so fucking in love with her. He missed waking up to that face every morning — or sometimes waking up to no face, but instead the touch of her lips on his penis. He missed when she would read out of her medical text book to him. Hearing all those smart, fancy doctor words come out of her mouth was sexy and always turned him on. He missed buying her things and seeing how excited she became when she got new shoes or new makeup. He missed her.

Drake pulled his eyes away from the screen and hoped he did that as quickly as he thought. After seeing Clem again, he'd lost his train of thought and had to recall exactly what he was doing. How did these pictures get on his phone? He never saw these before.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Those were sent to you while you were asleep," Hero explained. "I didn't mean to be nosy. I just saw her name and...I don't know."

"She's lying," Drake said. "I never asked her for these. I haven't even spoken to her—"

"She's very pretty," Hero interrupted. "Isn't she?"

This sounded like one of those trick questions women ask to trap men. Drake didn't know what to say.

"I..." He couldn't say no because that was obviously a lie. "I guess, but-"

"She's pretty. You can say it."

He was losing this woman over a jealousy thing? Was that it? "Hero, you're fucking pretty."

"I know. You tell me every time you get the chance," she said.

"And I mean it. Seriously, I never asked her to send these."

"It's okay if you did," Hero said, "because we're not dating, right? We talked about this. We talked about being okay with each other sleeping with other people. I'm not the only woman you've been with since we met, I'm sure?"

Suddenly, Drake was beginning to regret the bathroom quickie he'd had with Sal. He didn't know what to say, but Hero didn't leave him with his mouth hanging open for long.

"It's okay. You don't have to answer that."

Still, he felt like an apology was necessary. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, you don't have to apologize. We discussed it. This is what we decided on. It's just that..." Hero looked down at her hands as she twiddled her fingers. "I started..."

She chuckled nervously and lifted her head back up, but looked off to the side. When she did this, Drake could see that she was beginning to weep. He reached out and took her hand, but this only made things worse.

"You're so fucking sweet to me," she said. "I never thought... After my husband passed, I never thought I'd find anyone else, but then you came along and I started having feelings for you."

Now this jealousy was beginning to make sense. There were two ways that this could go. Either he could let her go or he could make this official. Now that their feelings were caught between things, they couldn't just remain casual fuck friends and emotional supporters. Even though he knew jumping into a new relationship this soon wasn't a good idea, he didn't want to lose her.

"I have feelings for you, too," he said honestly. "I wanna be with you."

"Drake, I'm too old for you."

"That doesn't matter," he said. "My friend Rhinestone is my age and he's with a guy in his forties and they've been together for, like, two years." He figured it would be best not to mention Molly. Their relationship had been strictly sex and no emotion anyway. "We can work it out," he said and this gave her hope. "I don't know how things will go, but being with you has been great so far and I'm willing to commit to you and see where this goes. Maybe we belong together or maybe we're not meant for each other. I don't know, but I wanna find out."

"Drake..." She paused like she was really giving it some thought. "I think it would be best for us to go our separate ways before it gets any harder to say goodbye."

"But what if we don't have to say goodbye?"

"You're still in love with her."

Drake froze. This caught him off guard and he didn't know how to respond. He felt her pull her hand away from him.

"I could tell," Hero said, "when you looked at her pictures. I mean, I always suspected it, but I know what love looks like when I see it."

"It's over — me and her. We're done."

"A couple weeks ago, when I was at work at the youth center, this girl came in and started asking about the programs we have, then she got more personal and started asking about me — innocent at first, like how long I'd worked there, but then she told me her name and introduced herself as your fiancée."

Drake's heart started beating faster. Clementine talked to Hero and he knew that this wasn't good.

"She told me a lot about you. You know, like we were both women and women have to watch out for each other. That kind of talk. She was really friendly. At that time, we were just fucking and I didn't really care who you were, but then you and I got really close really fast and I can't stop thinking about it." Hero averted her eyes and hesitated. She couldn't look at him when she asked, "Is it all true?"

Drake's breathing got faster and his mouth was dry. "I don't know what she told you."

Hero could hear the fear in his voice and that made her think that Dahlia had been telling the truth. However, now was her chance to get a true answer. "She said you cheated on her. She said you disappeared for months without a word and then you came back and then cheated on her again."

Drake's eyes were suddenly glazed over with water and he looked as though he was going to start crying, too. He didn't have a response, but this was enough of an answer for Hero.

"How can you promise to stay committed to me when you couldn't even commit to the person you were engaged to?"

Finally, he spoke up. "I made a mistake. I've never forgiven myself for it. I was fucked up on drugs and..."

She saw a tear drip across his cheek before he had the chance to wipe it away. He hung his head with shame.

"I started prostituting." He sniffled.

Hero knew that he had done this because he mentioned it in group therapy back at the mental hospital, but he never said that it was so recent and that he did it while he had a girl at home.

"It was never about me wanting to fuck some other girl. I only slept with men for money. It was mostly only blowjobs." His explanation didn't make this any less worse and he knew this. "I know it doesn't make it okay. I was just..." Another sniffle. His voice cracked when he said, "I don't know. I couldn't quit."

"But you're clean now?"

"Yes."

"When was the last time you used?" she asked. "Be honest with me."

Drake felt like the hugest fuck-up on the planet. His impulsive decisions always came back to bite him in the ass. He always worked hard to pull himself out of all the shit he buried himself in just to have it come back and fuck him over again.

Hero went on when he didn't answer. "You said back at the hospital that you were clean. Was that true?"

"Yes."

"And have you used since then?"

There was more silence, then she heard a sniffle.

"When?"

Drake hated himself. He hated himself for ever starting to use and he hated himself for the relapse he knew he had to admit to and he hated himself for wishing he had Charlie here to help him through this now. "July first."

"You had a relapse that day?"

"That week," he admitted. "That was the last day I used and then I made up my mind to quit."

"For now." Her words actually hurt his feelings.

"For good," he corrected.

"Were you ever high when you were with me?"

Why can't I do anything right? Why do I fuck everything up? His voice came out so quiet that she had to strain her ears to hear him when he choked out a, "Yes."

"You took drugs in my house?"

"Yes." He couldn't lift his head he felt so ashamed. He rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, then clasped them together behind his neck. "I'm so sorry."

She could tell that he really meant it. "She said that she caught you looking at pictures of other girls."

The only time Drake could think of was when she caught him looking at old pictures of Meelah, which was wildly exaggerating considering that it was implied that they were dirty pictures.

"She also said that you hit her and that she threatened to call the police on you several times."

The police thing was true. They'd had some nasty fights throughout there relationship and more than a few had included a threat to call the authorities, but Drake would put a stop to this by either grabbing her phone away or leaving.

"I never hit her."

"She said you gave her a concussion the day you packed your things and left."

The fact that Dahlia was going around and saying this about him made him both nervous and infuriated.

"I pushed her," he admitted and now it sounded like he had been lying to her because he didn't come clean immediately. "She was hitting me and she wouldn't let me up, so I pushed her off me and she hit her head, but it wasn't even that hard. My face and arms were bruised for weeks. I never fucking hit her back. I swear."

"And I believed that." Hero pulled her own cell phone out of her pocket and unlocked it. Moments later, she held it out. "I don't know how the fuck she got my number, but Dahlia sent me this."

Drake lifted his head to look at the picture. It was of his ex and she was covered in the bruises that Carter had given her.

"I didn't do that," the boy denied. "When I left and started pimping myself out, she got with this other guy and he did that. He beat the shit out of me, too. I'm a fucking pussy. I can't hit anybody."

"You hit that nurse at the hospital."

Drake sighed. She was right and now it sounded like she was catching him in even more lies. He was getting overwhelmed and he was crying just as hard as she was now.

"Hero, I swear on fucking everything that I never hit her. I swear."

"You know what, Drake? I believe you. I really do," she said, "but I still don't think we should continue seeing each other. There's the age difference and my baggage and your baggage, but then there's also your fiancée."

"She's not my fiancée anymore," he argued.

"She doesn't seem to get that, Drake, and I can't compete with her. She fights dirty. It was just little things at first. I guess she got pissed that I didn't stop seeing you after she told me about your relationship with her. One day, I got home and found pictures of the two of you together all over my front porch. Another time, I found an at-home HIV test and she left a note saying I needed to be tested if I'm sleeping with you. It was stuff like that for a while, then one day I find a cupcake from a secret admirer on my kitchen counter and I thought it was from you, so I ate some of it, but I didn't really like it because it tasted weird. Twenty minutes later, I was stoned out of my fucking mind. The next day at work, I get called into the office for a drug test and of course I failed. They wouldn't tell me, but I know she went around telling the parents that I'm a drug addict and they told my boss. Now I'm suspended from my job and I'm just waiting to hear if they're gonna fire me or not."

"Jesus, why didn't you tell me?!"

"I thought you might say something to her and then she would know that I was bothered and that would just egg her on even more," Hero said, "but breaking into my house and showing up at my work trying to get me fired..."

"I am so sorry. I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

"I can't keep doing this anymore, Drake."

He couldn't even argue with it at this point.

"She's not gonna stop. This is just the beginning. She's got worse things up her sleeve. I knew a girl like her before. She's got serious mental issues. I really do like you, but the last thing I need in my life right now is this drama."

"I understand," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you got caught up in all this."

"I know."

Drake sniffled and wiped his eyes. "I'll go."

When he stood, Hero stood with him. "I'm sorry," she said. She wrapped her arms around him for one last hug. "I wish things didn't have to end like this."

Drake held on to her tightly and took comfort in her embrace. Sure, he wasn't in love with this woman, but he still had strong feelings for her and an even stronger connection through their losses, so letting her go wasn't easy. He wasn't sure he'd ever find anyone else who understood what it felt like to lose the love of your life and he definitely knew that no one would be as okay with listening to him talk about Meelah as Hero had.

Even when they pulled apart, they stood close together and Drake couldn't stop himself before he connected their lips. Just one last kiss. There was sadness in their kiss. Both of them felt it. When their lips separated, Drake still couldn't get himself to disconnect. Their foreheads touched and their eyes remained closed. She had her hand on his cheek and her thumb brushed across his damp skin. They stayed like that for a moment and then the moment was gone. He finally separated from her, then he grabbed his cell phone and left the dining room. Hero was frozen in place. She looked at the doorway that led out into the hallway where he'd disappeared. Part of her hoped that he would come back, but she knew that this had to happen. This was for the best. When she heard the front door open, then close, she broke down.

Julio was startled when he heard the driver's side door open. He looked up from his phone as his friend slipped into the seat next to him. The boy immediately cranked the vehicle and backed out of the driveway. He said nothing. Drake was crying, but it was the kind of crying that was silent other than the constant sniffles. He frequently wiped his eyes to keep the blurriness from hindering his ability to drive.

Minutes passed before Julio spoke. "What happened?"

"I just wanna go home."

"Are you eating dinner here?" Ricardo asked as he stepped into the kitchen, his boyfriend in tow.

Dee handed him his wet towel when the man held out his hand, then Ricky went into the laundry room and tossed both of their towels into the hamper. They had just finished showering and the sex had made them work up an appetite. Before Dee could answer his question however, the front door opened. Ricardo only heard footsteps going up the foyer staircase as he moved back into the kitchen.

"Who was that?"

"Drake," Dee said.

Seconds later, the front door closed and Julio came around the corner and entered the kitchen.

"What's up?" Ricardo asked with concern.

"I took Drake to Hero's. The reason he was upset earlier was because she kicked him out suddenly for no reason and broke things off with him, then of course, he got stuck in his own head and was starting to spiral, so I got him to go back and talk to her." Julio sat down in one of the bar-stools. "It turns out it wasn't because of Drake at all. Hero fell in love with him and she was scared of that because of their age difference and get this. Dahlia was threatening her."

"What?" Even though it was Dahlia, Ricardo was still shocked.

"Yeah, she was leaving her STD tests and pictures of her and Drake on her porch. Plus, she broke into her house and left a cupcake laced with pot 'from Drake'—" He used air quotes. "—on her kitchen counter, then went to her job and told the parents of the kids she was coaching that Hero was using drugs, so her boss got a bunch of complaints and they drug tested her and they're probably gonna fire her."

"What the fuck?" Ricardo said with disbelief.

"Jesus," said Dee.

Julio continued. "Dahlia told Hero about Drake disappearing on her for those two months and she claimed that Drake hit her. She sent a picture of all those bruises she had after that other guy she was with beat the fuck out of her and told Hero that Drake did it."

"¡Pedazo de mierda! Fucking bitch!"

"Drake told her he didn't do it and she believed him, but she said she couldn't deal with the Dahlia drama, so she ended things for good."

"I can't fucking believe this shit."

"I know," Julio said. "I'm gonna go talk to him and make sure he doesn't call Dahlia on an impulse. We're gonna have to figure out how to deal with this because she's not gonna stop with Hero."

"We can discuss it later. I've gotta cool down a bit before I fucking call Dahlia on an impulse." After his brother headed upstairs, Ricardo hefted down onto one of the bar-stools. "Jesus, this is so fucked."

Dee came up behind him and rubbed his shoulders.

"It's been exactly one week since Drake's last chaos event and I know these haven't been his fault, but fuck, it's like I never get a break. Even though his life has calmed down, this last week wasn't even a break because I spent it getting over a cold and dealing with suddenly finding out my little brother's an alcoholic after he almost drank himself to death. Like shit, can anything else go wrong?"

Dee leaned against his back and wrapped his arms around the man, hugging him from behind. He kissed Ricardo's cheek, then his boyfriend turned his head and kissed him back.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I hate bitching and I sound so fucking selfish whining when Drake and Julio both have serious shit going on."

"Are you kidding me? You're the least selfish person I know."

Ricardo sighed. "I wish he never would've met that girl. I don't know what to do. You never know what she's gonna do next or what she's capable of." After a moment's thought, he said, "If she's broken into some complete stranger's house, she's probably broken in here, too. She could be poisoning our food or fucking with our shit or standing over us with a knife in her hand watching us sleep."

"The bitch is crazy, but do you think she'd actually try to hurt one of you?"

"I mean, before today, I wouldn't have thought so, but now I don't know what to think. Remember when he lived with Dahlia and I told you about that hospital bill that came in the mail? He told Julio at the hospital that he was having a panic attack and she gave him a bunch of pills that turned out to be muscle relaxers. Drake thinks it was an accident and I did, too, but my brother didn't and now I'm starting to agree with him. She's studying to be a doctor. Shouldn't she know that you can't just give someone that many muscle relaxers? Plus, she's the one who told Drake to kill himself and she knows he's unstable enough to do it. You don't fucking tell someone that."

"Maybe you can talk him into getting a restraining order," Dee suggested.

"I don't think he'll do that."

"I know he loves her, but I feel like he can't keep denying how fucking psycho she is now that she drugged the woman he was sleeping with."

"I don't know. Drake's been covering for bad people his whole life. Honestly, I think he wants to get back together with her."

"Seriously? After this?"

"Especially after this. He gets really confused when it comes to abuse and manipulation."

"But she raped him."

Ricardo sighed. "So did his dad, but he never turned his back on him."

Dee was quiet for a moment, then he said. "Why don't you let me cook tonight? We'll relax and eat and then we can all get together and talk about this tomorrow when Drake's more clear-headed and less impulsive."

"You're gonna cook?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I can't say no to that."

Dee smiled, gave him another kiss, then pulled away and went towards the refrigerator.

"I'll help." Ricardo stood and before his boyfriend could refuse, he added, "I need a distraction. Otherwise, I'll just sit there getting more worked up than I already am."

Dee couldn't argue with this, so he grabbed some vegetables out of the fridge and passed them to the man, who turned on the sink and began rinsing them.

Ricardo was in the kitchen sipping his coffee when Drake walked in. "You're up early," he said. "Where'd you go?"

Drake could immediately smell the bacon and eggs that were cooking. His stomach growled quietly. Even at times when he wasn't hungry, he was always hungry for bacon. "I went to the youth center to talk to Hero's boss."

"A little impulsive, isn't it?"

"I thought about it. I thought about it a lot. It kept me up all night."

"Well, how did it go?"

The young man shrugged. "He was super nice and understanding about it, but he's been getting a lot of pressure from the parents and he's worried they'll pull their kids out if he doesn't fire her. I feel like shit. She loves that job. She loves coaching those kids."

"It's not your fault." The food was finished, so Ricardo turned off the flames and began making two plates. When Drake reached for a slice of bacon, he slapped the boy's hand away. "Make your own. This is for me and Dee."

"Well!" Drake scoffed. "Your boo thang doesn't want bacon. He eats healthy. He probably just wants a protein shake."

"He'll get that for dessert."

The young man was stunned by the sudden sexual innuendo. He was all for his best friend coming out and getting into this great relationship, but he was unprepared for all the gay jokes that followed. "Fucking hell," he whispered.

Ricardo smirked to himself. He was pretty proud of that joke. "Worry about your own boo thang."

"She's not my boo thang."

"Have you thought about how you're gonna handle all this?" He grabbed a couple forks and started putting everything on a tray.

"I'm just gonna leave it. Hero doesn't wanna be caught up in all the bullshit and I respect that, so I guess that's the end of that. As far as Clem goes, I'm just gonna keep ignoring her. Eventually, she'll find someone else and get bored with me."

"I think that's a good idea," he said. "I just hope it works. Things are never that simple with Dahlia."

Everyone was gone and had been for most of the evening. Ricardo and Dee were both at work and Julio was meeting up with someone from his study group — probably that Hannah girl he had a crush on. Drake never asked him if he ever gave her the bracelet he made her back at the hospital. Whatever had happened, he was sure the alcoholism had gotten in the way, so Julio was probably trying to rebuild that bridge he'd burned.

Drake always had so much shit going on that they never talked much about Hannah, but Julio has been mentioning her every now and then for many months now. He was shy around her, which was different because he used to have girls all over him when they were in a band and he'd slept with more than a few of them. Drake couldn't remember the last time Julio had brought a girl over. He was probably still out there fucking on occasion, but his friend just couldn't seem to get his mind off Hannah. He was probably in love with her. Drake felt guilty for not knowing more due to how selfish he always was. He made a mental note to talk to Julio about it later.

He turned his head and checked the clock. It was a little past eight at night. He wished Julio was here now to hang out with because he was bored and catching up on his friend's love life would keep him occupied. It was so late that Julio was probably out getting laid. Drake wanted that, but he was too lazy to go out and charm someone over and he couldn't be bothered to make the drive if he found someone willing to hook up on Tinder. He really didn't want to get out of bed at all. He'd spent his day scrolling through Facebook, jerking off, eating, watching tv, jerking off, watching YouTube, reading, jerking off and scrolling through Facebook. He wasn't really active on Facebook much and wasting so many hours looking through it today reminded him why. He really didn't give a shit about what anyone was doing. He never even talked to people anymore and honestly, he had no idea who half of his Facebook friends were. Probably old classmates or groupies or people he met on drugs. Really, he just needed to get rid of the whole thing and start over — create a new one with a select few: Julio, Ricardo, Dee, Brett, Samantha, Rhinestone, Theo, Gemini, Sawyer... Who else? Who else did he talk to? Mrs. Hayfer. Maybe she had a Facebook. And then...? He wondered if adding Hero was a dumb idea. It probably was and so was adding Kenzly. Neither of them wanted to speak to him and he really couldn't blame him.

I sit around and watch the tube but nothing's on
I change the channels for an hour or two
Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit
I'm sick of all the same old shit
In a house with unlocked doors
And I'm fucking lazy

Bite my lip and close my eyes
Take me away to paradise
I'm so damn bored, I'm going blind
And I smell like shit

The young man reached for his phone when he heard his text alert. It was probably Julio needing a ride home and honestly, Drake would be glad to. He was so bored that he didn't mind doing that at all — anything to get him out of bed. Today was one of those days where he wished he could fall asleep and wake up tomorrow. He felt really down today and he couldn't find anything to distract himself long enough, even his book. He was really into it, but because of the mood he was in, it took everything in him to get through one chapter. His hectic life was settling down again, so his depression was creeping back up on him and he couldn't figure out how to stop it.

Drake looked at his phone and saw his ex fiancee's name next to a sentence on the lock screen.

Dahlia Martin: need to talk to u about something important

His heart fluttered when he read it. This was it. This was what would save him from his depression and boredom. There was no doubt that whatever Dahlia had to say would bring excitement to his life, though it was never clear whether it would be good or bad. Either way, it was something.

He slid the message to the side and this unlocked his phone and took him right to it. He touched the bar so that he could type back and his keyboard popped up. Drake's fingers hovered over the letters as he considered how to respond. He could simply ask what was up or he could begin with a casual sorry for not responding sooner or he could give her an elaborate apology and put himself down to make her feel better and more powerful. He was used to doing the last one and he thought maybe he could get back in her good graces a bit easier by kissing her ass, but as he searched his mind for the right words, his eyes moved upwards to the picture that had been sent yesterday. Now he was distracted. He scrolled up to see the other nudes. Hero had ambushed him with these, so he really only saw one before he forced his eyes away from his ex's naked body. Here he was masturbating all day and this is what he was missing out on. One apology could win her back, right? All he would have to do after that was spend a couple hours with his head between her legs and then whatever hard feelings she was harboring would melt away.

This was fucked up. He knew this was fucked up. She just drugged the woman he was sleeping with and got her fired. If he went crawling back to her, he was giving her exactly what she wanted. By doing this, he would be inviting her back into his life and into Julio's and Ricardo's lives by association. Didn't he owe them better? This all led him to one question. Do I want to talk to her because I want her back or am I just horny? There was only one way to find out.

Peel me off this Velcro seat and get me moving
I sure as hell can't do it by myself
I'm feeling like a dog in heat
Barred indoors from the summer street
I locked the door to my own cell
And I lost the key

Bite my lip and close my eyes
Take me away to paradise
I'm so damn bored, I'm going blind
And I smell like shit

Drake tossed his phone to the side and stood. His cats got up with him. He opened his bedroom door and let them out because they would only hinder him from doing what he needed to do. After that, he locked the door and got back in bed. He reached over to his nightstand and opened the top drawer to retrieve some lotion and a box of tissues.

He was already only wearing his boxers because he's done this three other times today already. He took them off, then squirted some of the lotion on his hand and got to work. Hero could've done this for him, but Clem kind of fucked his day up and now here he was with his dick in his hand. Again.

I got no motivation
Where is my motivation
No time for motivation
Smoking my inspiration

I sit around and watch the phone but no one's calling
Call me pathetic, call me what you will
My mother says to get a job
But she don't like the one she's got
When masturbation's lost its fun
You're fucking lonely

Minutes passed and he still wasn't hard. He wasn't a huge fan of porn — not the kind with complete strangers anyway — and usually could get himself off by pure imagination alone, but this wasn't one of those times. Fuck it, he thought. He picked up his phone, then went to his text messages. Dahlia's name was at the top since she had been the last to text him. He scrolled up in search of a picture he could work with and ended up choosing one that showed her full body. She was sitting completely unclothed with her knees bent and her legs spread. He had a clear view of her breasts and vagina and her clitoris was swollen, letting him know she'd masturbated before taking this photo. Her head was tilted back and her mouth was open as if she were in the middle of moaning with pleasure.

Drake leaned his phone against the lamp on his nightstand so that he was free to use both hands. He moved his pillow over slightly and rested his head on it to relax and get comfortable, then he went at it again.

Bite my lip and close my eyes
Take me away to paradise
I'm so damn bored, I'm going blind
And loneliness has to suffice

Bite my lip and close my eyes
Slipping away to paradise
Some say quit or I'll go blind
But it's just a myth

He was coated with sweat and his breath quivered. It definitely didn't take him long to get erect with the aid of the picture. He teased it for a while as he rocked his hips, then he moved his left hand down there and rubbed his perineum. Dahlia used to do that for him. While she sucked on him, she would play with his balls and taint and then push her finger inside of him. He did this, too, and started to massage his prostate. His breathing got deeper and faster and louder. Curses and sighs of pleasure slipped out under his breath.

He knew his orgasm was coming, so he stopped. He loved edging himself. He loved getting up to that moment before complete ecstasy and then holding off on the release. He gave himself some time to wind down before he started again. This time, he felt even more pleasure. He did this a third and forth time, but he knew that he couldn't go again. It felt beyond his control at this point. Now he went for it and gave it all he had. His right hand moved faster now and the finger on his left hand massaged his prostate quicker and with more pressure. His orgasm started, encouraging him to amp up the speed even more. He felt so much pleasure that a moan left him on an exhale. He looked over at that picture — at the look of pure bliss on Clementine's face. He felt it, too, like he was there with her.

He was feeling so good that he couldn't muster up the willpower to grab a tissue. Both of his hands were far too busy to stop what they were doing and spare a couple seconds. His cum shot out and landed on him. Finally, he could rest. He pulled his finger out and went for the tissue before the semen could drip down his skin and onto the mattress. After cleaning himself off, he dropped both arms by his side with exhaustion. He was drenched with sweat and his chest rose and fell with each pant. His head was swimming with oxytocin and endorphins.

Now that he was done, it brought him back to the question that had started his me-time. Damn, I still wanna talk to her.

Drake froze when he thought he heard the bathroom door open. It was hard to be sure over the sound of the running water. Out of nowhere, fear prickled up his spine. His father was dead. He shouldn't be waiting for him to pull back the curtain and violate him, but he was. Moments later, he heard more running water, but this time, it was like urine hitting the toilet bowl.

"Hello?" he said warily. Get it together, Drake. No one's trying to fucking get you.

"It's me." He didn't say his name, but it was clearly Julio's voice.

"What the fuck?" He turned off the water, then grabbed his towel off the curtain rod.

"I had to pee."

"Why didn't you go to the other bathroom?"

"This one was closer. You should've locked the door if you didn't want anyone to come in." He tucked himself back in and zipped his jeans, then flushed the toilet and moved over to the sink. "What did you eat for dinner? I'm starving."

"I haven't eaten yet."

"Good. Me neither. What are you making?"

It was close to nine o'clock and he was exhausted, so he didn't even bother to argue with the fact that he was getting stuck with cooking again. "What do you want? Something fast."

"We can just drop some chicken tenders and fries in the deep fryer."

Drake pushed the curtain back and stepped out of the tub, now wearing a towel around his waist. He went for his shirt and put it on. Even after all these years, he was still embarrassed about the scars on his torso. "Have fun getting laid?"

"Have fun jerking off all day?" Julio retorted as he turned off the sink. "I wasn't getting laid. I just went to see a friend."

Drake couldn't remember the last time Julio had went out with friends. Honestly, he wasn't even sure that he had any. "That's good," he said. "Was it that guy you used to hang out with when I moved in. What's his name? Rhett?"

"No, it wasn't him. That guy was a jackass."

Drake stepped into his boxers, then pulled them up underneath the towel. After he had them on, he removed the towel altogether and grabbed his pajama pants. He never really liked Rhett after running into him at the truck stop the night everything went down with Marcellas. Apparently, he's the one who had told Ricardo what he was out there doing on the streets. Julio still hung out with Rhett for a while after Drake moved in, but Rhett constantly made sly remarks about the boy's addiction and prostitution lifestyle. Drake always awkwardly laughed and went with it, but Julio knew it was fake, so one day, he brought it up with Rhett and it turned into a whole thing and they never spoke again.

"I mean, because if you did wanna hang out with him," Drake said, "that's cool. You don't have to pick your friends based on whether or not they like me."

"That guy is the last person I would ever wanna hang out with," Julio said.

The two young men made their way downstairs. After Drake tossed his towel and dirty clothes into the laundry room, he joined his friend in the kitchen. Julio had already plugged in the deep fryer, so he sat down on the bar-stool to wait for it to get hot.

"Ricardo texted earlier and said he won't be home tonight," Julio said. "Did he tell you?"

"No." Drake pulled his phone out of his pocket and sure enough, the man's name was on his screen. "Oh, I guess he did when I was in the shower." He set his phone down, then folded his arms on the counter-top and rested his head on them.

"You alright?" Julio asked.

"Yeah. Just exhausted. Today's just been one of those days where I couldn't get myself out of bed to do anything."

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"I had breakfast." Suddenly, he stood. "I need to smoke."

He disappeared outside and came back about ten minutes later, having smoked two cigarettes. Julio already had the pre-cooked chicken in the deep fryer and Drake's cats were circling his feet and rubbing up against his legs now that they smelled the food.

"Drake, get your fucking cats, bruh."

"Shit, I didn't feed them today."

He went over to the pantry and used the cup inside to scoop up some food. The animals came running when they heard the food hit their bowl. They sniffed around for a short moment before returning to Julio, who groaned.

When the chicken was done, the boy poured in some curly fries and dropped them into the bubbling grease. Drake grabbed one of his tenders and stuck it on ice in the freezer. Both boys liked to cook the fries extra long to make them crispy, so Drake pulled the chicken back out of the freezer before they were finished. He chopped it up into small pieces and tore a napkin in half to separate them, then he put them on the floor near the cats' food bowl.

"You keep giving them human food and they're gonna start refusing to eat their food altogether," Julio said as he grabbed the hot sauce out of the refrigerator.

"I know, but they're too cute to say no to."

"You want yours tossed?"

"Sure."

The young man put all the chicken strips in a Tupperware bowl and poured in the hot sauce, then he put a lid on it and shook it around. He already had the bottle of ranch sitting out, but Drake opened the fridge and grabbed honey mustard because he preferred to dip his spicy tenders in that.

Instead of moving to the living room, both boys just took a seat at the island. They took the first few bites in silence, but Julio was the first to speak.

"You got rehearsals tomorrow?" Julio asked.

"Yeah. Care if I use your car?" Now that Julio's license were suspended, Drake was able to drive himself to and from the theatre rather than being dropped off and picked up.

"I don't give a shit," he said. "You don't have to keep asking. It's not like I can drive it anywhere anyway."

"I know. I just don't want you to think I expect you to let me use it whenever I want just because you're not using it. It's still yours."

"Not anymore. Now it's yours, so stop asking," he said. "Until I'm allowed to drive again. Then it'll be mine."

"If you want me to come home on break and drop you off somewhere, I will."

"I don't know yet. I'll have to see how Hannah's feeling first."

Now was a good time to ask. "You still talk to her?"

"Well, kinda. I met up with her today, but I haven't spoken to her in a while. When I started drinking, things got kinda bad. Like..."

Drake remembered how hard it was to admit to himself all of the shit he had done to hurt people and it was even harder to say it out loud. "You don't have to tell me."

"But that's how people like us recover, right?"

People like us. Julio had never said that before. He never wanted to believe that he could've gone to the same places that Drake had gone to. Maybe he wouldn't have. Who knows? What was important was that he knew he had a problem and Drake had a similar problem and he was glad that he didn't have to go through all these new feelings and emotions alone.

"Hannah and I got really close while you were in the hospital. That bracelet trick actually worked and I guess she also felt kinda bad for me," Julio said. "We weren't officially going out and we never slept together, but we somehow just clicked on this different level. I started spending every second with her whenever I wasn't at the hospital. I'd been drinking heavily for a while — like, since you moved out — but things started to really take off after your suicide attempt. It's just unfortunate that I fell in love with Hannah and alcohol at the same time."

Drake understood this. He fell in love with Meelah and Charlie at the same time and he often wondered if maybe things would've turned out differently had Charlie never been there at all. It was easy to think that of course it would have. It was easy to blame drugs as the reason that tore them apart, but if you're going to do that, then you also have to blame drugs as the reason that brought them together. Drake never would've opened up to Meelah about his dad. They never would've shared that same connection. The only real relationship he'd ever had where his girlfriend and Charlie didn't share the spot at number one was with Clementine and obviously, that didn't turn out too well. Without Charlie, he and Meelah probably never would've made it — not for long. He had always been so fucked up in his relationships and this stemmed from his issues with his dad. He'd never learned how to be a man and he didn't have anyone to look up to that could teach him how to make a relationship work.

Julio continued his story. "Me and Hannah started arguing a lot. I don't remember what it was about. Probably my drinking. I got...really angry. I think I was angry at you, but I was scared of what you'd do if I yelled at you, so I would get wasted and...I guess I took it out on her."

His voice was saturated with regret and it broke Drake's heart. He knew exactly what that felt like.

"This one day, I got really heated. I started throwing her shit and breaking everything. I think I really scared her. I grabbed this...like, fucking vase or something. I didn't know what it was at the time. She tried to take it from me...and then...I pushed her...like...really hard." Julio paused as if playing the memory over again in his mind. "Then I threw the vase and it just shattered and all this dust went everywhere and she started screaming about her sister. When we first started getting close, she told me her sister was kidnapped and murdered when they were little and the vase I broke was the fucking urn with her ashes in it."

"Shit," was all Drake could think of to say.

"I know, and I didn't even apologize or help her scoop it all back up. I just stood there while she cried and I kept yelling and I blamed it on her." Julio hadn't taken a bite of his food for a while now. His voice was somber. "When I learned about what your dad did to you, I hated him. I couldn't understand how he could possibly treat you the way he did, but then this thing happened with Hannah and I threatened to kill you and I beat you up until you lost consciousness. Like...and now I understand him and that scares me. You lied for him and protected him because you were scared of him...just like you lied and protected me. You were scared of me. I was scared of me."

Drake was quiet for a moment. This wasn't something he'd ever admitted out loud, but he didn't want his friend to feel alone. "I hit Meelah once," he said.

Julio was so shocked that he actually lifted his eyes and furrowed his brows at him.

"It was when we were still together. She'd just gotten clean and I stopped using for a second, but then I just couldn't do it, so I tried to keep it from her. One night, she caught me in her bathroom. I had just thrown up the pills, but they were still intact and I was so desperate, so I got them out of the toilet and swallowed them down again. That's when I realized that Meelah had been standing there watching the whole thing. We started arguing and I was so nauseous. The pills were slimy and putting them in my mouth after they'd been in the toilet grossed me out, so I puked them up again. She flushed them before I could give it a third try. I was so angry with her. I just kept yelling at her, you know? Like, what the fuck was I supposed to do now? Those were all I had." Despite the fact that he and Meelah had gotten back together months after this incident, he never could forgive himself for it like she had. "I blamed her. I told her that she was the reason I was a drug addict. She tried to leave and...I grabbed her...and I slung her against the wall...and I just remember yelling at her. She told me that I was acting like my dad and...I just fucking lost it. That's when I punched her. Just...full-on...punched her...right in the face."

"So that's why you two broke up?"

"Yeah," Drake said. "I was so embarrassed and ashamed about the whole thing, which is why I said she dumped me because she found out I relapsed. That was the main reason anyway." He looked at his friend. "When you hit me, it did scare me, but I knew where you were coming from. Even when you threatened to kill me, I understood. Back when I lived at my dad's, your brother showed up and took my Triple C's and I put a pair of scissors to his throat. I've been there, too. When you said that to me, I knew it came from a place of fear. That's why I covered for you. I thought I could help."

"I almost drank today," Julio admitted. "Obviously, my conversation with Hannah didn't go over well. She's still super pissed, which is understandable. She said a lot of hurtful shit." He was quick to add, "Which I totally deserved. Still, it got to me and I ended up at this bar and I just sat outside trying to talk myself out of it, then trying to talk myself back into it, then out of it again. I don't know how long I sat there, but finally I looked up nearby AA meetings and went to one. That's where I've been all this time. I kept thinking about how I've treated you these past couple months and about my brother crying next to my hospital bed and I finally got up and got some help."

"I'm proud of you," Drake said. "You're doing way better than I did. It took me years and, like, a hundred tries before I made it as long as you without a relapse."

Julio had only been clean for about a week and a half, but that was a long time to Drake. Once he started using, it probably took him about two years before he could stay clean for that long.

"I'm not Dahlia," Julio said. "Don't sell yourself short." He always called him out when he caught him putting himself down to lift others up.

"You're right. I'm doing fucking awesome, too." It felt good to say these words out loud and actually mean them. "We both are. We're gonna beat this."

Drake met his eyes when he said it. He started using Triple C's at sixteen and he was now twenty-two. That's six years of a habit he was trying to reverse. His addiction had taken him many dark places — places that he still hated to talk about. If he could get through all of that shit and come out on top, then Julio could, too. When Drake said they would beat this, Julio believed him.

The young man picked up his can of soda and held it up. "To sobriety."

Drake smiled. He hated that Julio was going through similar struggles, but he was glad that finally he didn't have to go through this alone. He mirrored his friend's movements and they tapped their drinks together. "To sobriety."

Dee plopped down next to Drake on the bleachers and held out a black bag of pistachios. The young man took it and poured some of the nuts onto his palm, then started cracking open the shell of one

"Another busy day for you, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," Drake replied sarcastically. Again, he was scheduled to watch the actors that he was understudying for. Once, he was asked to come up and run through one of the routines, but then he was sent back to the sidelines and the focus went back to the originally assigned Roger and Mimi.

Speaking of Mimi, Sal, who played her, looked over at Drake. Allie was talking to both her and Gregory, who played Roger, but when she wasn't looking, Sal made a funny face at Drake, who broke out in a smile.

"The fuck was that?" Dee asked when the girl went back to listening to the instructor.

Drake shrugged. "What?" He put his focus on cracking open another pistachio.

"You like her?"

"I mean, yeah, she's pretty cool."

"No, I mean, you're trying to get with her?"

"Oh. Oh, hell no. I just got out of two relationships that I should've never been in. I think I need to take a break and focus on myself for a minute."

"So hypothetically, if she asked me to ask if you wanted to get dinner and go see a movie with her tonight, I should tell her you're taking a break."

Drake's ears perked up. "Did she say that?" Being single just wasn't something he seemed to be capable of doing.

"No. No, she didn't, but you see? You're full of shit."

The young man rolled his eyes and hung his head, putting his attention back on the tough shell.

Dee laughed. "Look at that. You're actually disappointed."

"Fuck you, alright? Just because I'm single, it doesn't mean I can't fuck around." Drake's fist was full of empty shells and it made it hard to open new ones. "Bruh, where are you putting yours?"

Dee grabbed a plastic bottle of water that he had on the other side of him and set it down in between them. As his friend dropped his in, he said, "Man, I'm kinda feeling like shit today."

"Mentally or physically?" Drake asked casually.

The man laughed. "That is some Santos house shit right there. 'Mentally or physically?'"

An amused smile came up on the younger boy's face.

"Can y'all not go one fucking day without some catastrophic meltdown, followed by a forty-five minute counseling sesh and, like, three pep talks? Dayum!"

He laughed. "You think Ricky got you sick?"

"I don't know. I hope not."

"He bought that expensive medicine that knocks it out pretty well. There's some left at the house if you wanna try to catch it early."

"I think he works tonight, but I'll probably come over tomorrow."

Both were quiet for a minute as they watched the two actors run through their duet. Drake was first to break the silence.

"God, I need a fucking cigarette." He waited a few moments, but his craving got the best of him. He stood and tossed his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll be right back. If she asks, I'm in the bathroom. I'm just gonna run outside and take a couple hits."

Drake exited the large practice space and passed by a room where another director was working on vocals with the actor who played Mark. The young man dipped outside and leaned against the brick wall. He quickly lit up and took a drag and just this action alone made him feel less tense.

He heard his text alert go off and feared that it was Dee warning him that Allie was looking for him. It was pretty irrational to think this, but that's how afraid he was of her. She reminded him of the asshole band conductor in the movie Whiplash that Sawyer gave him for his birthday. She hasn't tried to physically harm him yet, but after everything she's said to him, he wouldn't put it past her. Allie didn't treat anyone else this way — not that he's seen. Maybe she could just smell weakness when she was around him and knew that she could take advantage of his frail mind. Or maybe he sucked as bad as she said he did and he shouldn't have been cast in the first place.

Dee wasn't the person who was texting him and he should've felt relieved, but he didn't.

Dahlia Martin: why ru being such an arse? I just wanna tlk aboutsomething important.

Drake was being an ass? Was she serious? Was she really trying to act like she didn't just drug Hero? He wanted to say something. He really wanted to blow up on her, but anytime he had done this in the past, he would always be the one to go crawling back to apologize in the end and he knew this time would be no different.

He received another message — this one actually from Dee this time — but as he went to press on it, Clementine sent another text and he paused to read it.

Dahlia Martin: I know ur fuckin reading my texts & I swear ur gonna regret it if u keep ignoring me

What the fuck did that mean? That was definitely a threat, but would she actually go so far as to hurt him? Would she drug him like she had Hero? What would be the use of that? Perhaps she would poison him instead. No, no way. She'd never intentionally cause him harm...right? He knew what Julio thought about the time he'd overdosed on the muscle relaxers she'd given him, but he didn't believe she'd done it on purpose...but what if she did?

While Drake obsessed over her intentions, he forgot all about Dee's message until he heard the theatre door open and saw Allie.

"Shhhit!" he whispered to himself, rushing to put his cigarette out against the brick wall. He prematurely thought he'd achieved this, so when he went to close his hand around the butt, it burned him and he dropped it on the pavement.

The woman looked right first, but then she turned in his direction and scowled. She began stomping towards him and he knew that he was in trouble. He put his phone in his pocket and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"No, don't put your phone away on my account," she said as she approached. "I wouldn't wanna interrupt whatever shit you've got going on that must be more important than rehearsals."

"I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I had...a family emergency."

"I thought you didn't have a family." This was something she'd learned when he'd filled out an emergency contact form on the first day of practice.

"Um..." He was so taken aback by her rude words that he didn't know what to say.

"Was that your boyfriend on the phone?" She glanced at his feet and noticed the cigarette butt on the ground. "You came out here to put a cigarette in your mouth because you miss having his dick between your lips. Is that why you're ruining my fucking show, faggot?"

Her choice of words shocked him. He just stood there speechless. He could feel his heart beating faster.

"Are you deaf?!"

Finally, he mustered a reply. "No, ma'am."

"Are you sure? That would sure explain your singing. It's like you've never heard what it sounds like to stay in pitch."

"I just... I've-"

"If it's not that, then it must be because you're fucking retarded. Is that it?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but again, he was speechless.

"That's probably why your family abandoned you, you think?"

Drake's brows furrowed with confusion. This woman didn't even know him. Why did she hate him so much? Even Dahlia wasn't this harsh.

"Close your mouth, Drake. Do I look like your boyfriend's dick?" Allie actually expected an answer. "Well?"

"No, ma'am."

"Now you have two choices. You can either get your useless, tone-deaf fucking ass inside and pay attention or you can go the fuck back home, where nobody wants your untalented, faggot-lipped ass. So what's it gonna be? You coming back inside?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And don't you dare let me find you somewhere your dick-nosed, rectum-licking face isn't supposed to be. You understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Because if you ruin this play for me, I'll make sure everyone here knows who you really are." She smiled, like she was pleased with herself. "That's right, Drake. I know you liked to spend your nights playing with grandpa balls and your days beating up my step-daughter."

Suddenly, it clicked. She was Dahlia's step-mom. No wonder she hated him so much.

"I never hit-"

She held up her hand. "Uh, uh, uh. I don't wanna hear it. Lousy prick. If it were up to me, you never would've been part of this show."

Drake felt his eyes water over. He was standing in front of someone who had so much ammo on him and she could fucking well use it any time she liked. Basically, his life was in her hands.

"Please don't say anything," he said.

"We'll see." Allie shrugged. She was just as awful as her step-daughter. "Now get back in there and don't let me catch you stepping out of line again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Drake led the way back inside and took his original seat on the bleachers. He kept his head low as Allie walked past him and approached the two that she had been working with before.

"Shit, dude, I'm sorry," Dee said. "I was on my phone for two seconds and I looked up and she was gone."

"It's okay," the young man said quietly.

Dee watched him wipe his eyes and he saw the shiny tears on his skin when he pulled his hand away. "Bro, what'd she say to you?" he asked with urgent concern. He slid down to the next level lower on the bleachers so that he could be closer to Drake's level. "What'd she say?"

The boy sniffled and wiped away more tears. "I don't really wanna talk about it right now." He was trying really hard not to break down in front of everyone. So far, no one noticed him, but if he tried talking about the overwhelming conversation he'd just had this soon, he would lose his composure.

"Alright, don't worry about it," Dee comforted. "Lemme tell you about this god-awful joke Ricardo told me the other day."

"This is so fucked up," Dee said after Drake told him about Allie being Dahlia's step-mother.

They were at a park. Well, it was hardly a park. It was just a small grassy area with a pavilion and a couple picnic tables. Drake was sitting on top of one of the tables and smoking cigarette after cigarette while Dee poured some sort of lite vinaigrette dressing onto the salad he'd bought from some small organic restaurant the other boy had never been to before.

"She called me the f word."

"F word?" When he saw Drake's discomfort with saying it, he knew. "What, faggot?"

The boy nodded.

"Jesus."

"I don't even know what else she called me. It's like I blacked out after that or something. Like, I hardly remember it happening." This happened sometimes when he got scared. Maybe his brain was trying to prevent a PTSD flashback from taking over or maybe his mind was just all over the place to the point where he could never recall one thought specifically.

"Dude, I really think you should say something to the other directors. It's not right for her to treat you like that. Either they'll talk to her and she'll have to chill out or they'll fire her."

"I don't want her to lose her job. That would just give Clem another reason to be pissed at me."

"So? Who gives a fuck?"

"If I get her step-mom fired after she got Hero fired, she's gonna take that as a sign that I'm starting a war. The Hero thing was just her warm-up. Who knows what kinda shit she's got up her sleeve? She knows everything about me. She could ruin my life if she wanted to."

Dee sighed and watched as his friend took another nervous drag from his cigarette. Drake then leaned forwards and put his head in his hands.

"God, I'm so fucked," he said. "It feels like I'm waiting for a fucking bomb to go off. She's gonna do something and I don't know what it is, but it's gonna be so bad."

His friend considered bringing up the idea of a restraining order, but decided that was best left for Ricardo to discuss with him.

"I feel sick." Drake stood and walked towards some trees. He faced away from the man who was with him so he wouldn't have to see him hurl while he was eating.

Despite the short time the two had known each other, Drake had the weakest stomach out of everyone Dee knew. The most minor of inconveniences could have him on his knees in front of a toilet. Perhaps it was due to all the vomiting he'd done while using Triple C's. It just came so easy for him — almost as easy as crying. He'd never met anyone like Drake, but he'd also never met anyone who had went through the same life experiences Drake had.

Minutes later, the boy finished. He staggered back to the table weakly as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he said. He knew it was so gross having to eat next to someone who was throwing up.

"Do you feel better?"

"Not really."

He sat down on the picnic table's bench this time rather than on top of the table and he reached for his pack of cigarettes to kill the bad taste and his nerves. His vomiting seemed to have taken a lot out of him, Dee noticed. He rested his weight on his elbows and held up his head in his hands. His cigarette dangled loosely from his lips.

"You alright?"

"Today's been such a long day and we'll still have four more hours after we go back." After a moment, he added, "And I'm not even doing shit. I never auditioned to play Roger or be an understudy. It's like a whole extra thing, but like, nothing at the same time." Drake was quiet for a moment, then he straightened and lifted his head. "I don't know. Jesus. Lemme stop bitching." He took another drag from his cigarette, then he stood and started pacing, but not out of nervousness. He wanted to stretch his legs after having sat down for so long. "You wanna run some lines or something so I know what the fuck I'm doing in case I do have to step in and play Roger?"

"Yeah, let's do it. Which scene?"

Drake unzipped his bag and pulled out the script. He passed it to Dee so that he could read for anyone except Roger. "I don't...give a fuck." He shrugged. "Just pick a random page."

"Wanna see how much you got out of watching them practice the choreography for What You Own earlier."

"Yeah, let's do that."

Dee took a quick bite of his salad and cleared his throat after swallowing it down, then he started.

Julio glanced out the window when he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. It was Drake and he was home from rehearsals. Julio had spent his day doing absolutely nothing and now that Drake was home, he felt excited and happy, although he couldn't explain why. He wasn't normally like this. Maybe it's because he had wasted so much time hating him and it was just good to have him back. Not only were they on speaking terms again, but there were no hard feelings or anything like that coming in between their relationship anymore. After months of constant silence, bitterness and anger, the duo was back together and nothing would ever break them apart again.

Julio got up and bounced down the foyer stairs. He was halfway down when Drake came through the front door. "Best friend!" he exclaimed. Even when they were on good terms, Julio was never this excited to see him, or at least he was never this open about it, so this took Drake by surprise.

Although it was odd, he spoke with a genuine enthusiasm that matched Julio's. "Best friend!"

He dropped his bag on the floor when he saw that the boy was coming in for a hug. This also surprised him. Julio wasn't a hugger. Every now and then when Drake was crying, he'd hug him to give him comfort, but he'd never gone in for an embrace randomly like this. It was so strange that Ricardo, who had heard this exchange from the kitchen, came out to the foyer with furrowed brows and a travel mug in his hand.

"I've been waiting hours for you to get back home," Julio said.

Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer circled Drake's feet and pawed at his ankles jealously. They were used to getting attention first whenever the boy came through the door.

"Why? What's up?" he asked.

"'Cause I just wanna hang with you," Julio said.

They pulled apart and finally noticed Ricardo.

"Y'all are gay," the man said, then he went back into the kitchen to gather the rest of his things he'd need for work.

The two followed him. Drake went straight to the refrigerator for some water and a snack and Julio hopped up onto the counter next to where his brother was adding sugar to his coffee.

Drake knew that Ricardo was seconds away from asking how rehearsals had gone, so he started a conversation before his friend could because he didn't feeling like getting into it. "You haven't left yet? I thought you were supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago."

"I couldn't find my fucking keys. I've looked all over the place. Julio said I can take his car, so I was waiting for you to get back. Were you planning on going anywhere?"

"No." Drake tossed the keys down on the island as he made his way to an empty spot in front of the counter. "Can you hand me a bowl?"

Julio turned and opened the cabinet behind his head, then passed the dish to the boy. Drake lifted the tab to open the can of sliced pears. He drained out some of the juice, then poured the fruit into the bowl.

"Are you sure they're around the house somewhere?" Drake asked.

"I mean, they have to be. I had my keys the last time I drove home and they're not in the car. It's got my bar key on it and everything. I've got a spare in the office, but I don't wanna leave the key to my place of business just lying around for anyone to take."

"Me and Julio will try looking around for it while you're gone. Right?"

Julio sighed. "Why do you always volunteer me for shit?"

"Do you have anything better to do?"

"Well...no, but-"

"That would be a huge help. Thanks," Ricardo interrupted. "I've gotta run." He picked up Julio's car keys. He said the next thing quickly. "Alsoifyouwannacleanuparoundthehousethatwouldbemuchappreciatedkaythanksbye." He was gone before either could respond and blame him for the mess that he was really not giving them a choice to clean up.

"I don't know what he's talking about. This house is always clean," Julio said.

"Yeah, no thanks to you."

"Well, why would I clean when I know you two will do it if I don't?"

Drake rolled his eyes and picked up a pear slice with his fork, then took a bite. Julio sat there in silence for a few moments thinking about his brother's last words, then he hopped off the counter.

"I bet he destroyed the living room," he said to himself quietly as he exited the kitchen. Moments later, Drake heard him curse. "That motherfucker."

Drake made his way to the living room and found the couches pulled away from the wall with the footrests let out. The cushions were in the floor as well as the decorative throws and the coffee table was on the whole episode side of the room.

"Damn, good luck cleaning that," the young man said.

Julio scoffed. "You're helping!"

"I'm eating," he said defensively.

"Fine, I'll wait."

Drake groaned. "Let's just get it over with." He still carried his bowl and continued to eat his pears as he kicked the footrests down. He gave a half-assed attempt at scooting the couch back where it belonged with his legs, but he made little progress until Julio came over and did the work for him. When they finished, Drake plopped down on the couch as if he'd done a lot of the work.

Julio sat down, too. "You got plans for today?"

The young man shook his head. "Why? What'd you have in mind?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to get out and do something. I've been cooped up in the house forever, it feels like. I don't know how you ever did this."

"Ricky's got the car, though."

"Well, we can do something here, but like, outside. I still have my old skateboard in the garage."

Drake laughed as he recalled memories of Julio's skater boy days.

"Don't laugh. What the fuck?"

"No, I'm not," he said, but he still was, so he added, "I'm not laughing at you."

"You know what? Fuck you. At least I didn't go through that goth stage."

A suddenly serious Drake kicked his leg. "I've already told you. We don't talk about that."

"What did it last, two weeks and then you cried because your mom wouldn't let you get your tongue pierced with Kenzly?"

"I didn't cry. I just locked myself in my room and blasted my emo ass music and pouted for, like...until dinner, then she made me sit at the table and it was seafood night and that was my favorite, so I forgot about being mad." There was a moment of silence as he took another bite of his pears and swallowed it down. "I should've gotten a tongue ring. I think I could've charged more when I was on the streets with one."

"Does it feel better or something?" Julio asked curiously. "I've never been with a girl who had a tongue ring."

"I mean, it depends on whether or not they know how to use it. This one girl I brought home before I met Clementine had one and it wasn't great. The ball was kinda big, so she didn't have a lot of her tongue, like...on me, but then she took it out and it was amazing."

"You seriously made her stop and take out her tongue ring for you?"

"I mean, I asked nicely."

Julio chuckled. "You're such a dick."

"Well, if it were me and I was, like...not performing well, then I'd want someone to tell me what I need to do to get better so I don't embarrass myself."

Julio was still laughing at him.

"You probably wouldn't understand anyway. What was your motto back then? 'If we didn't both pay for dinner, we don't both need to cum.' At least I'm not a jackass. Now that girl's probably out there giving guys the best blowjobs of their lives."

"You done?" Julio asked when he saw Drake set his bowl down. "Let's go skate."

Drake carried the dish to the sink and followed his friend out the garage door. They never parked their cars here because it was still full of their old band equipment. After Julio found his board, he pressed a button to roll up the large metal door and they went out to the driveway. The young man got on the skateboard and started going around in circles while Drake sat down on the hood of Ricardo's car and lit a cigarette.

"So she was the best blowjob you've ever had?" Julio said, continuing the conversation.

"She was definitely up there."

"You just had to choose Dahlia over great-blowjob-girl."

"I know. Now I have no fiancée and no five-star blowjobs. Fuck my life."

Suddenly, Julio looked past him and waved innocently. "Hi, Mrs. Tarby."

Shit! Drake turned and, sure enough, there stood their neighbor. She was grouchy and very anal about her yard and always seemed so displeased to have three young men living in the house next door. She was giving Drake the stink eye because of his vulgar language and he crumbled under the pressure.

"Sorry, ma'am."

Mrs. Tarby still looked dissatisfied. She got in her car and started it.

Julio skated down to the end of the driveway and, when he came back, he asked, "How many girls have you been with that had tongue rings?"

Now that their neighbor was gone, he said, "Not that many. Maybe four or five and then one guy — that guy that lives with Tad."

Julio knew about him and he knew about the threesomes, but hearing Drake say this still took him by surprise. Tad had actually paid to watch some guy go down on the boy he said he was in love with.

"Only two of them were actually good though," Drake continued, "and that was Kenzly and that guy Kyle. They knew how to use the tongue ring to make things better. I mean, but Kenzly wasn't always good. We used to practice new things on each other and after she got her tongue ring, she wanted to learn how to use it to her advantage."

"That is so fucking weird."

"How?"

"So you two would just be hanging out and she'd ask if she could practice and you would just say 'sure' and whip out your dick?"

"Yeah, and then I would tell her what feels good and what she should try and she would do the same for me when I wanted to get better at something. That's not weird. You're supposed to communicate."

"I don't know," Julio said. "That just sounds kinda weird to me. Like, you weren't even doing it for each other? You were doing it so you can go out and pleasure other people?"

"I mean, it was a mixture of both," Drake said. "Sometimes we'd fuck just to fuck." He shrugged. "We were best friends and it was much easier to get together when we were horny than to go through the whole process of being charming and buying someone dinner and listening to them tell you about themselves and hoping they'd wanna come back home with you so you didn't just waste all your time."

"That's what Tinder's for, bruh."

Drake shrugged, then stayed silent as he watched his friend recall the movements required to land a kickflip. Minutes passed before either one spoke again.

"Goddamnit," Julio said when the board landed upside-down on the concrete. He stumbled, then caught himself before falling.

"You have to flip the board, like, all the way."

The boy gave him a dead stare. "No shit, Sherlock."

A defensive look flashed across Drake's face. "Well, excuse the hell out of me."

"You do it."

"Nah, I was never as good as you."

Julio picked up the board and passed it to his friend anyway, shoving it against his chest.

"Alright, fuck. Hold this." He handed his friend his cigarette and Julio responded by tossing it on the ground. "Bro, what the fuck?!"

"It was literally finished."

"Yeah, but Ricardo's gonna get mad if I get cigarette butts all over the yard again."

"You can pick it up when we go back inside."

Drake sighed and shook his head, then put the board down on its wheels.

"You think Mr. Tarby's wife has ever given him a blowjob?"

"I don't know, dude. Shut up. You're distracting me." He got on top of the skateboard and balanced there as if to get used to being on one again.

"As if you'll even land it."

Drake narrowed his eyes, then said. "Bet I can land it my first try."

"Bullshit."

"For real."

"You willing to solidify this bet?"

"What do you have in mind?"

Julio thought for a moment. "Loser has to do all of the other person's chores for the week: cooking, dishes, laundry — everything."

"Alright, you're on."

"Let's see it." Julio waved for him to go on.

Drake set his feet up for the trick, then he went for it. He pressed down on the back of the board with his left foot and got it off the ground, then he slid the toes of his right shoe against the side on the opposite end and sent it into a flip. Less than a second later, the skateboard did a complete flip, so he put one foot on the back, then one on the front just as the wheels made contact with the ground. He looked up with a smirk and, just to be even more of a jackass, he dabbed. Julio hated dabbing and Drake thought it was pretty dumb, too, but he liked to do it sometimes just to pissed his friend off.

"How the... You were never even that good!"

"Ugh, gee, thanks." He got off the board and put his weight on the back to send it vertical, then he grabbed the nose and passed it over. "Have fun with those chores." He sat back down on the hood of the car and went for another cigarette.

"You knew you were gonna land that."

"Well...kinda." He shrugged smugly.

"How?"

"When I went to Theo's the other day, he pulled out his skateboards and I practiced the kickflip until I perfected it."

"That's cheating."

"How is that cheating? How was I supposed to know that you'd make this bet? You act like I spent everyday since I perfected the trick sending you subliminal messages about skateboarding — like I purposely sent that random skateboard emoji in one of my texts or like I purposely sent that video of that little kid landing that dope trick or like I purposely turned on Viva La Bam when we sat down to watch tv or like I purposely just mentioned skateboarding in casual conversations. You think I actually knew you'd eventually wanna skate and that you'd wanna make a bet involving chores because you're competitive as hell and have no cash to bet? You think I would actually set it all up so when Ricky reminded me about adding my shit to the grocery list, I wrote down shit for the meals that I like but never cook because it takes so long? You think I've purposely been cooking all the easy shit and saving the timely stuff for when you lost this bet? You really think I planned all that? Come on, Julio. I'm not that smart."

Julio was dumbfounded. "You're a fucking sociopath."

Drake grinned.

"Seriously, you're worse than Dahlia."

"Well, now you're just hurting my feelings."

"You literally plotted this for days and sat back and watched it happen. You don't hear how fucked up that is?"

"It's not that bad," Drake said. "My sister did that shit to me my entire life."

"No wonder you're so fucked up."

The young man scoffed. "Well!"

"You're going to hell, dude." Julio got back on the skateboard.

For roughly thirty minutes, they continued taking turns on the skateboard and talking about random shit. They tried other easier tricks they used to do like a heelflip and a pop shove-it. Julio felt better when he was able to land them in less tries than it took Drake. As Drake rolled down to the end of the driveway, Julio wandered into the garage and sat down in the stool behind his drum set. He picked up the sticks he had laying nearby and hit each drum and cymbal a couple times just to see how they sounded having collected dust for so long. It was his kit, but Stevie was the one who always played them. Julio was bass and back-up vocals and Drake was guitar and lead vocals. He missed those days when it was just the three of them hanging out. They all had a deep love for music and could play for hours. Sometimes Ricardo would come out to listen while he smoked out of a bong and passed it around. They would all get stoned and laugh and play. Things used to be so great.

Around the beginning of senior year, Drake started showing up high and it wasn't on marijuana. His vocals got lazy and he was sloppy when he fingered the chords. It was beyond aggravating and both himself and Stevie had blamed Meelah. It was years later before Julio learned that it was around this time when Mr. Parker had sexually assaulted Drake for the first time. Julio couldn't even begin to imagine what that must've been like for him and his so-called friends only made things worse by scolding him for showing up high. The boy later started missing band practices. This wasn't exactly a new phenomenon, but it wasn't incredibly frequent either until then. However, when summer break began, Drake had completely stopped coming and instead of figuring out what the root of the problem was, a frustrated Julio and a spiteful Stevie started looking for his replacement. That's when they found Stavros. At this time in his life, Mr. and Mrs. Nichols pawned Drake off on his father, the physical abuse became more violent and frequent, the sexual abuse was still pretty new, Drake was still trying to cope with the weekly private visits he'd had with Coach Tad in his office and Meelah dumped him. On top of that, his best friends kicked him out of the band. Charlie was the only one who had stuck around, so it was no wonder that the boy had learned to rely on the pills so heavily.

When Drake got out of the hospital after killing his dad out of self-defense, Julio expressed his guilt for being so quick to judge and kick him to the curb. As a matter of fact, he'd cried and that was the first time he'd cried in front of Drake. His friend made him feel a lot better, though, and he told him that he didn't blame him for anything. Eventually, Julio was able to forgive himself, but he sometimes still thought back on it.

Stevie, on the other hand, was never told the full truth. They told Stevie that there had been a break-in and that Martin had been killed and Drake severely wounded in an attack when the burglars realized the two were home. Of course, it was a big story — every news reporters' wet dream — and although Drake's name was never mentioned, people started putting two and two together, so the truth eventually found Stevie via an ex girlfriend. He wasn't happy to learn that his best friends had lied to him, but he didn't hold it against him too much.

The real reason that friendship failed was because Stevie got tired of Drake calling and asking for things, such as cash or a ride or a bed to sleep in. He constantly asked, but could never return the favor when Stevie needed it. The real kicker that made Stevie draw the line was when Drake stole two hundred dollars from him. It was some time after Meelah had passed away. Drake had stayed in a constant high state after that until, ultimately, he attempted suicide. He survived, of course, and immediately got back on drugs, then got kicked out and ended up at his dad's. Stevie stopped answering his calls because he always needed something from him. It wasn't long after that he ended up having to move out of state and Drake didn't even know about it until he'd moved in to the Santos house. Since he was sober and his mind was cleared up, he got upset when he discovered that Stevie hated him and it hurt his feelings, although he understood that he acted like a total piece of shit when he was using.

Drake approached the garage after one last trick and got off the board. "What are you doing?"

"Let's play," Julio said.

"What, like now?"

"Yes, dumbass."

"I've gotta get my guitar."

He disappeared inside and when he came back, he had his guitar and two bottles of water. He passed one to his friend, who thanked him and gulped some down. It was hot outside and both were sweating.

Drake plugged his electric guitar into the amplifier and played a couple notes to see how it sounded. He'd stopped playing after the live performance at Flux when everyone started urging him to take Triple C's. That was about five months ago. It was crazy when he thought about it. As a teen, he would never let a day go by without playing.

The two began running through old songs they used to perform, but with Julio on drums rather than bass this time. The sun was setting outside before they called it quits and headed back inside. Both were too tired and hot and impatient to cook, so Julio called and ordered a pizza, then they both showered. Drake took longer because it took him a few minutes to find a playlist that he was in the mood to listen to. When he got out of Ricardo's bathroom and headed down the hall, he noticed that his friend was already out. The young man went down the stairs and into the laundry room to get rid of the clothes he had taken off and his towel. It was around this time that the doorbell rang, but Julio beat him to it and passed the delivery boy the cash Drake had laid on the counter for the pizza. They poured themselves some soda and Julio got the bottle of ranch out of the refrigerator and they sat down on the couch and watched Malcolm In The Middle and talked while they ate.

Drake's eyes opened wide and he gasped for air. He reached up and touched his neck, but found it to be free from Martin's grasp. It's been about three and a half years since his father's death, yet it still haunted him. After all this time, he was still scared of his dad more than anyone or anything else.

He was still half-asleep, so he had irrational thoughts. He felt trapped and, if Martin was about to come out of the darkness, his bed was the last place he wanted to be. The young man got onto his feet quickly because it's easiest to get away whilst in a standing position. He bolted towards the door and opened it and, once he did, he ran smack into a tall, muscular figure. Drake screamed.

"Hey, you okay?" Ricardo put his hands on the boy's biceps and stepped back to get a better look at him. His own face expressed concern and confusion.

"Yeah," Drake said, suddenly embarrassed.

"Did I wake you?"

"No." It must be about five, he assumed, since Ricardo's just getting home from work.

"You had a nightmare?"

"I'm okay."

Ricky could tell now that he was embarrassed, so he pulled his hands away so that Drake wouldn't feel like he was being babied.

"I'm just gonna smoke."

"Okay. You know my door's always open."

"I know."

The man let him go and watched as he descended the staircase. Drake went outside and immediately reached for the pack of cigarettes and lighter he had sitting on the porch. He lit up, then plopped down in one of the rocking chairs, replaying the dream in his head. He never forgot what it felt like to have his father's hands around his neck — to have someone hate him enough to squeeze tighter and tighter and watch him suffer through the pain that strangulation brought with it. That was the ultimate power — having the ability to decide if someone lived or died...watching the life leave the victim's eyes. Playing god — that's what Martin got off on. He always loved to choke his son. He got off on letting Drake know that he could kill him at any time and there was nothing the weak boy could do about it. He got off on the pale, blue color of Drake's face and he got off when he saw fear and desperation in his watery, pleading eyes. He got off when his kid had to beg for his life. He had complete control over Drake's life. He got to decide when he lived or died. He could kill him with his bare hands if he wanted to and the boy couldn't do anything about it.

Drake sniffled, then wiped his eye before a tear could fall. He was so tired of fucking crying.

When Dee came over later that day, he was full-blown sick. Ricardo sent him upstairs and gave him some medicine, then heated up some soup. Julio had spent his morning playing video games in the living room, but he was getting tired, so he turned the console off and joined his brother in the kitchen.

"Drake's still sleeping?" he asked with surprise when he saw that it was a little after lunch time.

"Probably. He was up when I got in this morning," Ricardo said. "I think he had another nightmare."

"I'm so bored. I'm gonna wake his lazy ass up."

He headed upstairs and to Drake's room. He pushed open the door and was surprised to see his friend's eyes open. Drake didn't even acknowledge him. He was laying on his side with his dead eyes glued to the wall as if maybe there was a tv on it that was playing reruns of past traumas. This could mean two things. Either he was back on drugs or he was overwhelmingly sad to the point where he would kill himself if he managed to muster up the strength to get out of bed. His eyes expressed a strong melancholy rather than the placidity Charlie made him feel, which meant that he wasn't using.

Drake occasionally went through these phases where he could spend all day in bed for days or weeks at a time. Sometimes it can go on for months. He would just lay there thinking and crying until he was too weak to move. The only time he got out of bed was to go to the bathroom and maybe to smoke. After that, he might grab something quick to eat before going back to bed. If he didn't, then one of the Santos brothers would have to practically force-feed him. He wouldn't shower, he wouldn't pick up his phone, he wouldn't watch tv, he wouldn't do anything. He'd only lay there day in and day out.

"Hey, you okay?" Julio asked with sudden concern.

Drake's voice came out quietly and it was so monotonous that it unnerved his friend. "I don't know." He didn't want to say he wasn't okay because he hated feeling like such a nuisance, but he also didn't want to risk Julio leaving by saying he was fine.

The young man came in and shut the door. He saw the two kitties napping together by the window, so he picked them up, then set them down on the boy. Confused, Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer looked around, then licked their own fur as if being touched had made them dirty. After a moment, they found a better, more comfortable spot than where Julio had placed them. They snuggled together right at Drake's chest, hiding their heads underneath the comforter.

When Julio sat down in front of him and leaned his back against the wall, he looked down at the boy and saw a silent tear drip across the side of his face. Either he felt appreciative for this sentiment and couldn't muster the energy to express it, which in turn filled him with guilt and a whole bunch of other negative emotions or he was touched that his cats loved him so much despite how much of a fuck-up he was.

"You wanna talk about anything?"

Drake's voice was so quiet that it was almost impossible to hear. "I'm sad." He had so many thoughts going on in his head and there was so much that led up to him feeling this emotion that he couldn't even really explain it if he tried.

"I know."

Julio started to run his finger's through his friend's hair to offer comfort and Drake scooted his head closer to hide his face against the young man's leg. His crying got harder.

Drake fell asleep after a while, so Julio snuck downstairs to start on dinner. He chose beef and broccoli stir-fry with lo mein noodles and spring rolls. He thought maybe this could help to cheer his friend up because it was something he loved, but never ate due to the length of time it took to cook. It was almost done when Ricardo came downstairs.

"Damn, it smells good! I could smell it from my room and my door was closed."

"How's Dee feeling?"

"The fever's gone and the nose spray helped, but he still feels congested and his head hurts. He's been napping on and off. Drake's still sleeping?"

"He was awake when I went up there, but he went to sleep again. He's in that mood again where he lays in bed for days."

"Oh. Shit." Ricardo frowned. "Is it bad?"

"It looks pretty bad."

"Damn." He looked as though he was searching his brain for a solution although he could never think of one. He usually stuck by the boy's side and made sure he didn't allow him to start feeling alone, but it looked like Julio had it covered this time. "It's been a while since he's been like this."

"I guess — between living on the streets, moving in with Dahlia, getting admitted to the hospital and then the mental hospital, relapsing again, getting involved in the play, having me be a complete dick to him, having to be strong while I was hospitalized and going through alcohol withdrawals, and then getting dumped by Hero — he's been too busy. Now he's got downtime and I think it's all catching up to him."

It made since that Drake was addicted to crazy. Without it, he had too much time to think.

"I've been sitting with him until he fell asleep," Julio continued. "I'm gonna try to snap him out of it and distract him. He cried for a long time, but a think getting it all out helped some. Alright, food's done."

The two made their plates and also the plates of the guys who were feeling down and under the weather. Ricky took his tray up to Dee and Julio cleaned up before making his way back to Drake's room. When he got there, he found the bed to be empty. Like completely empty. There was no comforter or anything. Instead, there was a giant blanket fort off to the side that was made of chairs and blankets from the hall closet and even the comforter off of Julio's bed.

"You gonna tell me the password for this thing or what?"

Suddenly, Drake's hand appeared and he pulled back one of the blankets, which acted as a makeshift door. Julio set the food down and crawled inside, then picked the tray back up and brought it in with him. His friend let the blanket fall back into place, which shut a lot of the light out. Still, they could see adequately. Julio looked around at all the different colors surrounding him. Drake had a pretty nice setup. He had a thick comforter laid out as a palette and he brought his pillows and his cats. He mostly used chairs and his bed to hold up the walls, but his fan was sitting off to the side and holding up a corner of the fort and blowing cool air in.

"Here." Julio held out one of the plates.

Drake hesitated before he lazily sat up as if he was debating whether or not he wanted to move. He knew it was best to just do what his friend wanted because Julio would make sure he ate one way or another. "Thanks," came out quietly.

"What gave you the idea to do this?"

This wasn't new. Sometimes when he was in a really low mood or when he was going through a comedown, he liked to hide away from the world. It was like a safe space where nothing bad was happening. He was seven years old again and just beyond the makeshift door was his old room and his mom and his dad and his newborn sister. There were no struggles and no responsibilities. No guilt or shame. It was before the abuse and the rape and the drugs and the prostitution. It was when things were much simpler. Drake really needed simple right now.

The boy shrugged.

"Does it taste okay?" Julio asked after he took a bite.

"Yeah, it's great." He was still quiet.

Not surprisingly, the kittens started hounding the two for food, so Drake bit off small pieces and gave them some as he ate. They both sat in silence for most of dinner, but finally, the depressed young man spoke again.

"Thanks for today." There was still no life in his voice. "I know it doesn't really seem like it, but it helped. I do feel better."

"I'm glad."

Drake kept his head low as he continued to eat. Julio watched him bite off another small chunk and suck off the spicy seasoning before setting it off to the side, where he had a little pile that Agent Jack Bauer and Macaulay were eating from. After a moment, Julio's eyes moved around the fort again, examining the use of blankets and chairs.

"This one's definitely roomier than the others you've made. Looks pretty solid, too, as long as your cats don't start climbing on it. You gonna let me sleep in here?"

"Sure."

They both already knew the answer before the question was even asked because Drake had brought enough pillows for the both of them. He wanted the company, but was too embarrassed to ask for it

"Dope. I can bring my laptop and we can watch movies and eat popcorn and junk food."

His friend didn't respond, but Julio could tell that Drake was looking forward to this.

Ricardo's brows furrowed and his lips curled upwards with amusement when he saw the blanket fort. It was lunch time and he hadn't heard either of the boys and now he understood why. They had stayed up all night. Peering into the fort, he saw Julio's laptop off to the side. It was stuck on the menu screen for Rush Hour 2. Surrounding the guys, there were stray popcorn and Little Debbie cake wrappers and a half-eaten bag of baby carrots, the entire bottle of ranch and glass bottles empty of the cream soda that was once in them. The kittens were asleep, too, and one — Ricardo could never tell the difference — was even curled up underneath his brother's neck. The man found this comical because Julio never really got attached to the cats and found them to be quite annoying.

He decided that this was too good to pass up, so he pulled out his phone and took a couple pictures so that he could tease Julio later. He knew Drake wouldn't care, but the younger boy would be pissed. Ricardo laughed quietly to himself as he predicted his little bro's reaction. This was actually kind of nice. They used to do shit like this to each other all the time before shit hit the fan with Drake's two-month relapse. After that, everyone got so serious and stressed and emotional.

After he got a few pictures, he went back to his own room. Dee looked on curiously when he heard his boyfriend laugh.

"Babe, look at this." Ricardo hopped into bed next to him like a five-year-old excitedly waking up his parents on Christmas, then he held out the phone.

Dee laughed, too. "They built a fucking blanket fort?"

"I know! Assholes didn't even invite us."

"How rude."

"Wanna go fuck 'em up?"

The man lifted his brow with interest. "What do you have in mind?"

Ricardo held his breath as he hunched over Drake. He carefully petted Macaulay's head to wake her, then he scooped her up gently so that he didn't disturb the boy's slumber. He passed the cat over to Dee, who put her down in the hallway with the other animal and shut the door silently. Lastly, Ricky picked up his brother's laptop and moved it out of the way, then he joined his boyfriend.

"Ready?" he mouthed.

Dee passed him his super-soaker water gun and they both took aim.

His lips silently formed the words, "On three. One... Two... Three!"

In seconds, screams erupted from the bedroom, followed by hysterical laughter.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Julio screeched. "STOP IT! FUCKING ASSHOLES!"

They had put the water in a bowl of ice and set it in the freezer for a few minutes, so it was freezing cold. Drake's teeth were chattering already due to how sensitive he was to extreme temperatures. He lost both his voice and his breath at the shock of being woken up so suddenly. His first thought was danger, like maybe the last three and a half years had been a dream and he was actually still at his dad's, but his mind started to clear up when Julio held up a blanket to shield them from the water. It was soon snatched away and the couple went at the younger two until their guns were empty. Julio jumped up furiously and Ricardo and Dee bolted out the door and down the hall. When Drake was left alone, he just groaned, rolled over and closed his eyes again, but he knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep.

Drake was outside and sitting on the porch steps since there was no protection from the sun and it was warm. He was wearing a sweater and smoking a cigarette. He'd changed clothes, but his hair was still damp. Dee was back in bed and Julio was God knows where, probably still ranting and raving.

Ricardo opened the front door and joined his friend. "You alright?"

Despite how funny it was at the time, the man had a big heart and an even bigger conscience. Fucking with his little bro was light-hearted fun and even messing with Drake was fun, but Drake was more sensitive to certain things, like being woken up suddenly.

"Yeah," the boy said.

"I probably shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay." His voice was still dead inside like it was yesterday, but he meant what he said. "It was funny. Comedian of the year."

Ricardo couldn't help but grin. He sat down next to his friend. "You know you guys left the garage door open yesterday? Someone could've stolen all your old band shit."

"Sorry, I guess we forgot."

"You played?"

"Yeah."

"That's good. It's been a while."

"He talked me into playing with him at Flux again. He's gonna talk to the owner today."

"Is that a good idea?"

Drake hesitated. "I don't know."

"I just don't want anything to happen like last time. Plus, there's gonna be alcohol there."

"I think we'll be okay. I mean, we've got each other if anything happens. Julio said he overheard people talking about feeling bad for trying to push me into using last time, which is pretty embarrassing, so I hope that crowd doesn't show up, but if they do, maybe they won't do it again. I doubt they'll come, though, now that I'm sober and boring. It was never about the music to them."

"Well, fuck 'em. Now you can restart and get a new fan-base that doesn't know about all of that shit, then it'll only be about the music," Ricardo said. "I'm glad you two are getting back into playing. This will help you warm up to getting back onstage before the play."

The second he said that, Ricardo could immediately tell that something was off. Drake went silent and hung his head to keep his eyes hidden, then he took a drag on his cigarette and held it so that he wouldn't have to speak.

"Right?" the man asked.

He couldn't hide it from him forever, so he quietly said, "I'm quitting the play."

"What?"

He couldn't handle hearing the disappointment in Ricky's voice. "You said if it got to the point where I can't handle it, then I should drop out, so that's what I'm doing."

"Are you sure you can't handle it? Or is this one of those times where you don't wanna put in the effort to handle it?"

"I can't handle it."

Ricardo trusted his judgement and spoke without disappointment now. "Okay. You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay. Well, I'm glad you gave it a shot, though, and put yourself out there and that you know when to walk away before things get bad."

The front door opened then and Julio stepped out. "What the fuck is this?!"

Both boys turned towards him and saw him holding out his phone. On the screen was one of the pictures of him and Drake sleeping in the blanket fort, which was posted to Facebook. Ricardo broke into a grin and even Drake cracked a small smile.

"That's cute," Drake said, taking the phone. "Look at my cute babies. Agent Jack Bauer loves you, Julio, look." He zoomed in on the kitten curled up against the boy and showed him.

Julio snatched his phone away. "Delete it!"

Ricardo stood. "Don't you remember embarrassing me at the store when we were looking at shoes and you loudly accused me of stealing?"

Drake quietly chuckled at this. He's been the victim of this prank a few times, too. Julio loved doing this ever since he saw some guy on Vine embarrass the hell out of people this way.

"I told you I was gonna get you back. Consider us even." After this, he headed inside and went upstairs.

"Drake okay?" Dee asked when his boyfriend entered the bedroom.

"Yeah, and Julio saw the picture."

"I figured. I heard him start cussing all the way down the hall and he burst in here looking for you."

The man laughed.

"You think he'll retaliate?"

"Oh, for sure. It's just this ongoing thing we all do to each other to entertain ourselves."

"It must be fun to have a brother."

"Eh, it's aiight."

The two chuckled.

"How you feeling?"

"Definitely better than I was, but still not great."

Ricardo glanced at the clock. "It's time for you to take two more of those pills. Have you taken them yet?" When his boyfriend shook his head, he reached over and grabbed the box, then tore along the perforated lines to pull off two pills. He struggled to tear away the paper on the back for a moment, but finally got it and handed them to Dee, who tossed them into his mouth and chased them down with water. "You don't have work or rehearsals tomorrow either, right?" After the man shook his head, he said, "That's good. You'll have another day to rest." He started running his fingers up and down the man's bicep gently and the tone of the conversation got more serious. "Did you know Drake's quitting the play?"

"What?"

"He just told me outside. He said it was starting to affect him. I never watched the Rent Live DVD and I don't really remember the actual movie that well. Are the drug scenes, like, pretty intense? Besides a couple incidents, I thought he was really enjoying it."

"I mean, I don't think it's that bad. There's a part where Mimi's looking around Roger's apartment for the drugs she dropped, which he wouldn't have to deal with unless he did end up having to fill in as Roger, but still, it's more of a flirty song. There's a song where a group of addicts approach a dealer asking for a fix and he plays one of them, but like, I don't think it would be enough to trigger anything," he said. "But I don't know. I don't know how sensitive he is to that kinda thing."

These didn't sound too bad, but really, you never knew with Drake. Anything could send his mind spiraling out of control.

"You know what I think it is," Dee started, "is that Allie — the director, you know? — he found out she's Dahlia's step-mom."

"What?!"

"She said a bunch of nasty shit to him and made it sound like she's considering exposing him — like she's toying with him."

"She needs to be fucking fired," he said angrily.

"That's what I said, but he's scared of how Dahlia will retaliate if he speaks up."

Ricardo contemplated this for a moment. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I mean, she does have a lot of shit on him, but she's always gonna have that shit. She's not gonna stop fucking things up for him just because he quits the play. She's after him and she won't quit until she gets what she wants."

The man sighed. "She is literally the worst person I've ever met." He thought about the situation some more. "Do you think he's making the wrong choice by not talking to her? Maybe if he did, they could sort this out."

"I don't know. I...I mean, I don't know the situation as well as you do, but what she wants is to get back together with him, right? I don't think she'll be satisfied until that happens."

"So either he quits the play to keep the peace as much as possible or he gets her step-mom fired and shows her that she doesn't control him anymore." Ricardo debated this in his head. "Either way, like you said, she won't stop, so he might as well stand up for himself in the process, right?"

"That's what I would do, but I don't know how easy it'll be to convince him that it's best."

"Yeah, that's gonna be a whole thing. I'll figure something out, I guess, and talk to him later." Ricky repositioned his pillow, then laid down next to his partner. "You wanna watch tv?"

"Yeah."

He reached over and grabbed the remote, then turned on the television. Dee rested his head on his boyfriend's arm, so once Ricardo found a channel, he pulled the sick man closer until Dee's head was on his chest.

Dee had left a bit earlier to rest up before getting up early for rehearsals in the morning and Ricardo was just getting back from dropping Julio off at Stavros' house. Stavros was the guy he and Stevie had replaced Drake with when he stopped showing up for band practices, but not much came of it since Stavros had to leave due to his grandma's death and Julio lost interest in music and fell into a depression. However, he filled in on drums the last time Drake and Julio performed at Flux and he was happy to do it again.

It was getting dark, but his brother said Stavros would drive him home, so Ricardo had the rest of the night to relax. The first thing he did was head upstairs to change into his pajamas. After that, he headed down the hall to see what Drake was up to. He heard muffled music on the other side of the door and opened it quietly.

-out oxytocin
Love is an ocean I can't control

Drake was sitting on the floor on the other side of his bed. He sat facing the open window like he was watching nightfall. He didn't notice the man enter because his back was to him. He continued to quietly sing while strumming his acoustic guitar.

Break up with my girl because she doesn't trust me
I don't fuckin' blame her 'cause I trust in nothing
Mama held a bottle, daddy doesn't hug me
All I ever wanted was someone to love me

Thanks doctor I need those
Give me a free dose
I took a thousand happy pills but I'm still emo
Actin' like I ain't affected by the hate directed every second
Maybe I should fuckin' end it now

Ricardo frowned as he leaned against the door-frame. He was glad that Drake was using music as an outlet again, but the lyrics were unsettling. His friend had been so strong over the past few weeks after his relapse and during Julio's withdrawals, but it was all just an act — not because he was back to lying and hiding, but because he wanted to be there for his best friend and make sobriety look like it wasn't so bad.

Everything finally caught up with him, though, and it was like all the emotions he'd suppressed the past few weeks were surfacing all at once and that was crippling.

Where are you goin'
My serotonin
I'm feelin' alone and the world is so cold

It's hard to focus
Without oxytocin
Love is an ocean I can't control

He started to strum silently, so Ricardo felt it was a good time to cut in.

"Did you write that?"

The music came to an abrupt halt when Drake realized he wasn't alone. He turned and the first thing he noticed was the look of concern and sympathy on the man's face.

"Um...it's by Call Me Karizma. How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long. You practicing for the gig?"

"No, just...doing my own thing."

"Care if I come in?"

Drake shrugged. "No." He stood and sat down on the bed, then placed his guitar in front of him.

Ricardo took a seat next to him. "How are you?"

The boy shrugged. "Same as always. What about you?"

He was diverting. He went through stages where either he was dependent on Ricardo (almost the entirety of the last three years) or where he was completely shut off (usually during relapses). Now he was trying to find a balance between the two and it wasn't easy. He felt like a bother all the time, but he knew it was best — not only for himself, but for everyone involved — if he kept the Santos brothers updated. Updates seemed pointless when he always felt the same inside.

"I'm alright," Ricardo said, giving Drake an answer despite the fact that it was meant to distract him from what he came in here to do. "Content," he added.

"That's good."

"What's going on with you? You've been really down lately — more so than usual."

"I don't know. Sometimes it all comes at once, you know?"

The man nodded, then let the conversation die as he watched his friend. Drake kept his eyes low and wouldn't look at him. When he was on drugs or wanted to be, he could tell a lie just as easy as he could breathe, but when he was sober, he had more of a conscience and he really wanted to honor the honesty pact. Instead of fibbing, sometimes he would just be vague or distant. It didn't exactly mean he was lying. Sometimes he just wasn't giving the whole truth.

"Dee told me why you're quitting the play," Ricardo said.

"Oh," was all he said in response.

"You didn't wanna tell me?"

Shrug.

The man stayed quiet and Drake knew he expected an answer, so he gave him one. "I guess I just didn't wanna cause a bunch of drama. The Clem thing's getting old."

"You still think not talking to her is the best thing to do?"

Another shrug. "I guess."

"And quitting the play will solve things?"

"Yeah."

"You do realize that by quitting the play, you'll be doing exactly what she wants and you'll be showing her that she still has control over you, right?"

"I don't know what else to do. She broke into Hero's home, drugged her and got her fired simply because I ignored her text. If I actually do something really bad, she's gonna... I don't know what she'll do, but it'll be so much worse."

"But getting you to drop out of the play isn't her end goal. Do you really think she'll leave you alone after that? She won't. She's just starting small to make sure she can ease you back into her games. She knows you love Rent and being apart of the production is something that you enjoy. She's trying to take away any chance you have at being happy because she knows you'll be easier to manipulate then."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" the boy asked hopelessly.

"I can't tell you what to do."

"That's bullshit. You always tell me what to do."

"I know. You're right," Ricardo said, "but you wanted to be more independent, right? I'm gonna let you handle this one. I'll support you no matter what you choose. It's not an easy decision and there's really no right or wrong choice. You just have to decide if you wanna take a stand or try to keep some semblance of peace."

"Is that my fatherly advice?"

The man cracked a grin. "That's your fatherly advice," he said. "Now come downstairs and let's play a board game. We'll do a game night — just the two of us."

Drake fell over onto his side and curled up on the mattress. "I can't. I'm so tired."

"Bullshit. You slept half the day."

All the boy wanted to do was mope around in his room in isolation. He didn't have the energy for board games. "But then you woke me up. You ruined my blanket fort, by the way."

"You really think I won't pick you up and carry you down there and embarrass you in front of your cats?"

Drake groaned, but he got out of bed because he knew Ricardo would seriously do some dumb shit like that just to piss him off. "I get to pick the game."

"Eh, we'll see."

"Yeah, he's in there talking to them right now," Dee said into his cell phone.

Ricardo's voice was on the other end. "He wanted to do it alone?"

"Yeah. I'm waiting in the car for him. We're about to get lunch."

"Where are you going? Me and Julio can meet up with you. I know he's dying to get out of the house."

"Mmm...I don't know yet. I really want a salad, but I think Drake wants a smoothie. We'll probably go by both places since they're right next to each other and eat at one of the tables by the hiking trail again. You know which one I'm talking about, right?"

"The one down the road from the library?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. We'll probably get Gezzo's. I've been wanting one of their burritos."

"Here comes Drake now," Dee said.

"Ask him if he wants me to get him that veggie quesadilla he always gets."

Drake opened the passenger's side door and got in. Ricky could hear their exchange.

"Ricardo's meeting us for lunch. You want him to pick you up something from Gezzo's?"

"No."

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"He said no," Dee said into the phone.

"Talking to the directors must not have gone well," his boyfriend said. He knew it was best to respect Drake's wishes because forcing him to eat when he was feeling this way could make him sick and he still had half a day of rehearsals left. "Alright, we'll see you when we get there."

After they hung up, Dee cranked his car. "Did you wanna get a smoothie?"

"I guess."

He pulled out of the parking space, then started down the street. "What happened?"

"They just said they'd talk to her — like give her a warning."

"Well, that's bullshit."

"I know, so now it's gonna be awkward because she knows I said something." He sighed with frustration. "I knew I should've just quit. This is gonna be so much worse."

"Well, who knows? Maybe she'll back off. I'm sure she cares about this job because she's been a play director for several years," Dee said. "But if she doesn't, just talk to them again and tell them nothing's changed."

"They don't give a shit. They think I'm being a baby and can't handle her constructive criticism. They thought I was exaggerating when I told them how she spoke to me. Now they think I'm some lying, whiny bitch, Allie's gonna treat me even worse, and Clem's gonna be so fucking pissed." He was craving a cigarette so much that his fingers were trembling as he ran them through his hair. "I don't know what I was thinking. I can't win against Clem. This was so stupid."

The second they came to a stop in front of a cluster of restaurants and small businesses, Drake got out of the car and started smoking and Dee went into the vegan place to get his salad. The younger of the two only went through half his cigarette before going into the smoothie shop two doors down. He didn't want to make Dee wait on him because of his bad habit. He ordered a Kona Rain, which mixed black raspberry with kiwi lemon-lime. When he got it, he admired the dark purple color. It was kind of like outer space in a cup.

Drake beat Dee outside, which gave him time to finish up his cigarette. When the man came out with his salad, they headed to the park. Ricardo and Julio joined them roughly ten minutes later and the group sat down and ate together.

"That's one downside to living in Las Vegas," came Rhinestone's voice from the phone. "I've had people ask me to mail them weed."

"Why can't they get their own like normal people?" Drake asked as he sat on his bed and played with his kittens.

"Because marijuana's legal here and we have dispensaries and there's a lot of variety."

"Oh, yeah."

"I would never take that risk again — not for no damn pot."

"You've mailed weed before?"

"I mailed myself meth," the boy said and Drake could hear that he was smoking a cigarette. This made him want to smoke, too, so he headed downstairs and out the front door. "I never told you about this?"

"I don't remember."

"It's when I first moved out here and I was still using. I moved here, but it didn't work out, so I went back home, but then Zach got on a plane and stayed with me at my dad's for about a week. He went back and then I went back not long after that," Rhinestone said. "But when I was going to Vegas to stay for the first time, I still had some meth and I was gonna mail it to myself because I didn't wanna risk trying to get on the plane with it. I wrapped it really tight in a bag and then put it in more bags to make it bigger. I was gonna put it in my deodorant. I talked to my dealer to see if he had any advice and he told me to melt a candle and stick the bag in wax and let it harden, so I did that, then I got the deodorant out of the tube and put the meth in and I cut off some of the deodorant and put it back in the tube. The candle wax made it solid so it wouldn't be moving around or look weird when it went through whatever machines they put your shit through. After that, I got on the plane and when I got to Vegas, I called my dad and told him I forgot my bag with all my toiletries and shit like that and asked him to mail it to me, so I guess technically my dad mailed meth, but he didn't know about it."

"Shit," Drake said. "That's pretty gutsy."

"I know. Thinking back on it, I don't know how I had the nerve. I was so doped up and it sounded so brilliant at the time and I guess it was because it did work, but I don't see myself doing that again, especially not for no damn weed. Hey, lemme let you go. Zach just came in from work."

"Okay, see ya."

"Love you. Talk to you later."

"Love you, too."

When Drake got off the phone, he tossed it down on the mattress and sighed. This conversation didn't last as long as usual because Rhinestone was excited about going to some new restaurant he heard about on Facebook. It was Friday night. Drake should be going out, too, but he really didn't have the money, nor was he in the mood to get tangled up with any other girls — not with Dahlia looming over his shoulder.

He was bored and needed a distraction before he started thinking about his fucked up life and spiraling into a crippling depression, so he forced himself onto his feet and left the room. He walked down the hallway to Julio's room and pushed open the door. His friend looked up from his laptop.

"Yo," Julio said.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Just looking at skateboards."

On his way to the bed, Drake picked up this little wooden puzzle Julio had gotten from someone at some point. He's had it for a long time and still hasn't been able to get the pieces separated like he was supposed to. Drake plopped down on his stomach at the foot of the mattress and started fiddling with the puzzle.

"Gonna buy a new one?" he asked.

"Maybe one day, but not anytime soon. I got so much money to pay back after the DUI." Julio exited out of the web-page he was on and set his laptop to the side. "I don't know. Just wasting time because I'm bored."

"Same. Show me some new songs."

"Okay." This excited Julio because he, like Drake, loved to share the music he was listening to. "I know you're picky as hell, but you should like this one because it's from Missio and I know you like them.

After about a minute, music started playing from the laptop.

I am tired of seeing pretty people everywhere
I am not a model, middle fingers in the air
I used to drink whiskey, now I'm stuck with Perrier
I'm an alcoholic, middle fingers in the air

"That's me," Julio said over the music.

I'll just keep on throwing middle fingers in the air
I'll just keep on throwing middle fingers in the air

I don't like the music other people tend to share
Hate your loser lyrics, middle fingers in the air

"And that's you," he said.

Drake laughed at this.

I'm a starving artist nowhere close to millionaire
I prefer my Kia, middle fingers in the air

I'll just keep on throwing middle fingers in the air
I'll just keep on throwing middle fingers in the air

Ricardo was surprised to see Drake awake and ready for rehearsals thirty minutes before it was time to leave. Usually, he was just now waking up. As the man sipped on his coffee, he looked out the window above the sink with furrowed brows. Drake was squatted down over by the tree line that separated their house from the neighbor's. Curiously, Ricky headed out the side door.

"The hell are you doing?" he asked.

Drake's head whipped around like he was a kid who just got caught sneaking a cookie before dinner. "Nothing," he said with false innocence.

Now Ricardo could see the open shoe-box the boy had. "What the fuck is that?" A few moments passed, then he saw his friend carefully pick something up. It was long and he immediately realized that it was a snake. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing," he answered again as he put the legless animal into the box. Once it was safely inside, he closed the lid, which had holes poked into it. He picked up the shoe-box and carried it back towards the house.

"You're bringing that thing in the house?"

"Just for a second."

"What the hell for?"

"To scare Julio."

This made Ricardo crack a grin. His little brother was terrified of snakes.

"Is it poisonous?" he asked.

"No, it's a corn snake."

Snakes were actually Megan's favorite type of animal, so Drake knew more than the average amount of knowledge when it came to these creatures. That's why he knew what type it was. It wasn't venomous. Instead, it wrapped it's lengthy body around it's prey and squeezed until its poor victim suffocated to death.

"See?" The young man cracked opened the box to show him, then closed it again.

"I didn't think we had those around here."

"I didn't either." He shrugged.

"You know, I think the neighbor's son has a snake. I wonder if it got out."

Drake shrugged. "You got their number, don't you?"

"I think I still have it written somewhere."

"Well, lemme show Julio before you ask them."

"Alright, I gotta see this." He followed his friend inside.

"You'll hold him down for me?"

"Okay."

They went upstairs and tip-toed down the hallway, then opened the door to the youngest boy's room. He was fast asleep, so Drake flipped on the light.

"Julio, wake the fuck up!"

The boy's eyes blinked open groggily a few times before his vision cleared and he saw the two guys. "What?"

"I got you this cool surprise." He carried the box over and Ricardo went around to the other side of the bed so that it would be easier to grab his brother.

"Why the fuck are there holes?" He asked with unease. "What the fuck's in there?"

The second Drake opened the box, Julio flipped out, but the oldest was there to keep him in place.

"Let go!"

"Look at it." He tipped the box towards his friend.

"No! Stop!" He tried his best to sound tough, but it wasn't working. His muscles were tense with fear. "Don't," he said as he watched the boy carefully pick up the wicked animal. "Bro, get off me."

Drake was grinning and Ricardo laughed as the snake was placed on top of the terrified young man. The prankster continued to hold on to it, but Julio could still feel the small weight on his back and it went all the way up to his shoulder and neck.

Despite his fear, Julio laughed nervously. He didn't want to have a full-on freak out in front of these guys and get teased about it for the rest of his life. "Dude, stop. I swear to God... Get it off me. Get it off." He tried to wiggle his way to freedom, but his older brother kept him pinned down.

There was laughter amongst the guys when the snake's tongue came out and touched Julio's jaw. The boy grimaced.

"Bro, stop." His mouth went dry and he stuttered slightly. "Drake, I'm gonna kick your ass. I swear to fucking God." He wasn't kidding, but Drake chuckled anyway.

"It's so cute, though," his teaser said innocently. "See?"

"No, I don't wanna see."

Drake brought it's head closer to his friend's eyes and Julio hid his face in the mattress. The boy shivered when he felt the snake's body sliding along his back. The tail end somehow got around Julio's bicep and started constricting as if killing his next meal.

"Get it off," came the victim's muffled voice. "Dude, it's squeezing my arm! Get it off, you fucking asshole!"

Finally, he felt the animal's weight leave him. Drake put it back in the box and set it to the side, then he immediately jumped up and ran for the door. Ricardo let Julio go and his little brother was gone in the blink of an eye. He couldn't help but grin. He reached for the shoe-box and exited the room. He didn't even make it to the staircase yet before he heard a crash, followed by a scream of pain. Something's definitely broken and it sounded glass. Julio's loud curses filled the house, then there was another loud bang. Ricardo reached the lower level just in time to see Drake, who was being grabbed from behind, push the bottoms of his feet against the wall, causing Julio to stumble back and hit the opposite wall with a grunt. Drake then swung his arm and elbowed his friend in the side. The second he was let go, he ran out the front door, still laughing. It took Julio a second to recover, but he went after him. Ricky just shook his head. After checking to see what damage had been done to the living room, he started searching the kitchen drawers for the neighbor's phone number.

Roughly five minutes later, Julio came back in panting for breath. He went straight to the refrigerator for some water.

"Ya get him?"

"No, he's too fucking fast."

The man set the telephone number on the counter, then picked up his keys. "That lamp you broke — you need to clean up all that glass and turn the end table back how it goes."

"I didn't do it."

His brother just gave him a look of unenthusiastic disbelief.

"I didn't. Drake's the one who fell into it."

"After you pushed him, right?" he said. "Y'all play too much. How come when me and you roughhouse or when me and Drake roughhouse, nothing gets broken, but when you two get together, shit hits the fan?"

"Probably because I know you'll yell at me and lecture me and ruin the fun. I don't know about Drake, though. He's probably scared that you'll snap his neck or something because he knows you always take it easy on him and he still doesn't stand a chance against you even when you're not trying."

"Well, don't you think you're being a little too rough with him? I mean, considering..."

"If I was being too rough with him, then he wouldn't be ballsy enough to be putting fucking snakes in my bed, would he?"

"I'm just saying. One of you could've gotten seriously hurt, especially around that glass and now I have to replace a lamp."

"I didn't even do anything," Julio said. "Are you gonna yell at Drake, too? It wasn't all me."

Ricardo wasn't yelling, but when he used his serious voice, he might as well be. Both of the younger boys knew that he meant business when he changed to this tone.

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Well, lemme come watch."

"So you guys can destroy the inside of my car. Hell no." He left the kitchen. "Clean up the living room," he ordered over his shoulder.

Julio's eyes then landed on the shoe-box that had holes punched in the top. "Hey, hey, hey! Take this thing with you!"

However, the door closed and his brother was gone. The man got in his car and started down the road. It wasn't long before he spotted Drake on the sidewalk. He was sitting down and smoking and Ricardo could tell from here that he was out of breath. When the boy saw the familiar car, his first instinct was to run. This was probably a prank and Julio was hiding inside. However, he was too tired to move, so if his revenge-seeking friend was in there, Drake was willing to say uncle.

Ricky stopped the car next to him and could hear him panting through the open window. "Yeah, a cigarette will help," he said sarcastically. "Get in the car."

He was almost finished anyway, so he tossed it and got in. "Before you start yelling, I'm sorry about the lamp. I'll buy a new one, okay? Don't yell at me."

That was the different between Drake and Julio. Julio didn't often take responsibility and Drake took too much. That's because Julio didn't give a fuck and was always willing to fight if things came to that while Drake did everything he could to keep the peace whether he was to blame or not.

"Why does everyone think I'm yelling? I'm just trying to have a normal conversation."

Drake winced as if his volume was too loud and aggressive, but he was only joking.

"Fuck off," the man said. "You going back home to get Julio's car or you want me to take you to rehearsals?"

"Julio's gonna kill me if I go back now?"

Ricardo laughed. "Oh yeah."

"Do you mind taking me then?"

Ricky checked his mirrors to make sure no cars were in the process of passing him, then he pressed the gas pedal again. "You grabbed everything you'll need from the house?"

"Yeah."

"Phone, wallet, money?"

Drake rolled his eyes. "Yes, dad."

"You act like you don't forget something every time you leave the house."

"Says the guy who couldn't even find his fucking keys when they were literally out in the open on the bathroom counter."

"Because you and Julio leave so much shit all over your bathroom counter," the man retorted, "Seriously, you guys need to tidy up a bit."

"Is that why you're being so bitchy? You want us to clean?" The boy hissed when Ricardo punched his arm. "I'm kidding. Okay, we'll clean."

"I'm not trying to nag. I'm just saying. Neither of you are working right now and it would be nice to come back to a tidy home."

"I guess I've been slacking off lately," he said apologetically.

"Obviously, I don't mean you have to do everything. I'll do shit, too, when I see that it needs to be done, but there's been dirty dishes piling up and laundry piling up and the bathrooms need to be cleaned and I just haven't had time."

"You're right." He hated feeling like he wasn't earning his keep. "Sorry, I'll do better."

"You don't have to apologize. I know you've been going through some shit and let's face it. My brother is no help at all around the house. I just wanted to mention it to see what was up before this became a habit."

"I guess I got used to not having to do shit when I was sick and then I started laying around all day. I'll do the bathrooms when I get home."

"I'll do laundry then and get Julio to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen."

They were silent for a while — not an angry silence or awkward silence. It was just a comfortable silence.

"You know what?" Drake said suddenly, then he reached for his back pockets. "I did forget my wallet."

Ricardo just gave him that I-told-you-so look.

Dee followed Drake over to the bleachers and grabbed his towel to dab the sweat away from his forehead while his friend gulped down some water. Both were breathing hard as they tiredly plopped down on the seat.

"That was fun," the oldest said with a mischievous grin. "That one's my favorite."

They'd spent all morning on a song called Contact, which was pretty much Rent's sex song, so what Dee said made the other boy laugh.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Ricardo's gonna love this when he sees it."

Drake grinned and Dee smirked back, but then he saw the young man's smile fade. He followed his eyes and noticed Allie approaching. Poor kid couldn't get through one fucking rehearsal without getting yelled at.

Drake was feeling better after getting through a few cigarettes, or at least that's what he was putting on anyway, so he was able to talk and laugh right along with his friends as if nothing had ever happened between himself and Allie.

"-and having to deal with Julio bitching all morning because I asked him to wipe down the kitchen counter, you can probably imagine how my day has been," Ricardo was saying.

Julio rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying. The kitchen is easy as fuck to clean. I could've left you with laundry. I hate doing laundry. You have to hype yourself up to put the clothes in to wash, then hype yourself up to move them to the dryer, then hype yourself up to fold them, then hype yourself up to put them away. It's an all-day job."

"But you get to sit and watch tv in between all that."

"So could you. It doesn't take that long to clean a kitchen. Maybe twenty minutes, but you spent more than half of your time pouting and crying and somehow took two hours."

"I wasn't crying, asshole."

"Sounds like you guys had a fun morning," Dee said.

"Oh yeah," Ricardo replied. "How have rehearsals been so far?"

"Great. We've been practicing this song about sex and death. I'm under a giant sheet with the other core actors like we're all fucking and then everyone throws the sheet off and starts saying 'it's over' because their relationships are failing, but mine's over because my lover just died from AIDS."

"Damn, that's sad."

"But it's such a cool combination, I think, to have the sex and death in one song. It's fun, too. Everyone's on stage moaning together. It's hard not to laugh."

"What are you, still twelve?" his boyfriend teased.

"Meanwhile," Dee continued, "Drake's off to the side climbing around on a chain-linked fence humping everything in sight."

Julio laughed at this. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's really fun to watch. He starts off with this girl who has her legs wrapped around his waist, then after their little bit, he puts her down and jumps up onto the fence with another girl and they do their thing, then when she moves on to the next, a guy comes up behind Drake and starts humping him on the fence. After that, he's up there humping nothing in slow-motion, showing off a bunch of hip action, which got all the ladies hot and bothered today." Dee gave the boy a playful shove.

Julio was laughing so hard that his voice came out in a higher, giddy pitch. "Boy, Mrs. Hayfer's gonna love this."

Drake's smile dropped. "Shit, I totally forgot she's gonna see that."

His friend was dying of laughter now and even Ricardo and Dee joined in. Upon seeing his cheeks turn red, Ricky started to feel a little bad for teasing.

"It's not that big of a deal, right? I mean, she's already seen everything you have anyway. Besides, you'll be fully clothed."

"Yeah, and you won't be center stage anyway. It's just off to the side," Dee added.

Julio said, "You think anyone's gonna look at a sheet they can't see what's going on under when they can watch a bunch of people climbing around on a fence, humping each other and having an orgy? Plus, the only reason she's going is to see Drake perform. Her eyes will be glued to him."

It was then that Drake remembered he'd have to quit the play. This saddened him. He'd rather have his former math teacher watch him pretend he was feeling pleasure getting it from behind in an imaginary orgy than not get to participate at all. He considered telling the others that he planned on dropping out, but he knew they'd try to talk him out of it and the last time he'd listened to Ricky about that had been a mistake. He'd tell them this afternoon after it was done.

"I'll put my hand over her eyes if that'll make you feel better," Ricardo joked.

Drake forced a chuckle.

"Daaamn, bruh!" Ricardo exclaimed as he eyed Dee, who was approaching his car. It was four in the afternoon and he was picking Drake up from rehearsals. "Are you a parking ticket? 'Cause you've got 'fine' written all over you."

Dee grinned so wide his eyes squinted as he opened the door and slid into the front seat. "Shut the fuck up."

"You didn't like that one?" He met his boyfriend halfway when he leaned in for a kiss.

"Well, it was definitely better than some of the others you've said."

Ricardo slipped his hand in Dee's. "You have a good day?"

"I did. Drake said to tell you he'll be out in a few minutes."

"I wish you didn't have to work today."

"Me, too! I'm so exhausted! I'd rather cuddle in bed with you."

"I know. When's your next off day?" Ricky asked. "I wanna take you out."

"Well, my mom actually wants us both to go over there for dinner sometime this weekend if you can."

"Sunday okay?" After Dee said it was, his partner continued, "So since we'll be eating there, I'll just plan something special that we can do before."

"Like what?"

"It's a surprise. Duh."

Dee rolled his eyes, but he smiled. He lifted the man's hand to his lips and kissed it, so Ricardo leaned in for another kiss. This one lasted longer than the first.

"So no crazy run-ins with Allie today?"

"Oh, shit. Yeah, actually. She came up to us right before lunch and asked to speak to Drake alone." He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I knew she would, so I was prepared. I left my phone on the bleachers to record what they were saying."

"That's brilliant." Now there would be proof and Allie would have to be fired. "Did you catch anything?"

"I haven't had the chance to listen yet. Drake's been around me most of the day and I wanted to talk to you about it first anyway because I didn't wanna overstep any boundaries."

Ricardo glanced past him and out the window to make sure the boy wasn't coming. "Play it."

Dee pulled up the recording and pressed play, then held it between the two. There was no picture due to where the phone had been placed, but they soon heard a voice that belonged to Allie.

"Nice work out there Dee."

There was no response. Dee remembered this. The cause of his silence was because he hadn't wanted to be rude, but he also hadn't wanted to speak to her, so he'd just nodded his thanks.

"Mind giving me and Drake a moment?"

There had been a look of surprise on Drake's face when he got up without protest or even a glance at him to make sure he would be okay, but he knew the boy didn't mind because he didn't want to be treated like a baby.

"You did well, too." Allie's compliment came as a shock to Drake and the two men listening to the recording. Maybe she would be better now that the others had spoken to her.

He spoke meekly. "Thank yo-"

"But I guess you got a lot of practice when you abandoned my step-daughter and ran off to fuck literally everything that walks, you cock-sucking slutbag."

Ricardo furrowed his brows and looked at the black screen on the phone.

"Tell me, how many dicks did you put in your mouth those two months?"

Drake went quiet and both could picture him hanging his head like he often did when he felt ashamed.

"What was it she said you told her? I believe your exact words were 'Thirty or seventy or more.'"

Even though he and Dahlia were separated and he was beginning to feel hatred towards her, he would never not regret his actions and that's part of what made him a good person. Dee thought so even after the boy had tried to sleep with him. However, Drake and Ricardo had sexual relations and when Drake admitted this to him, he'd sworn that he got tested for STDs and came out clean. Still, he felt like maybe this was something important to bring up with his boyfriend later just to be safe.

Allie's hateful and judgmental attacks continued. "You fucked more than seventy people in two months. That's fucking disgusting. I'm amazed she ever forgave you after that. There's no telling how many diseases you picked up out there. No wonder you fit so well in this play about AIDS, drugs and homelessness. I bet you got AIDS when some seventy year old great-great-grandpa shot his load in your grossly stretched anus. You have it, don't you?"

"No, ma'am," he said quietly.

"What else you got? Herpes? Crabs? Chlamydia? Gonorrhea? All of the above?"

"Ma'am-"

"Shut the fuck up, Drake."

"Jesus..." whispered Dee when the young man obeyed.

"See, that's what you get when you're a whore. You take after your mom, don't you? I bet she was the same way. That's why your dad left, wasn't it? Because your whore mother was out there with an 'open 24/7' sign right above her overused pussy?"

Ricardo's hands clenched into fists. He was fuming, but doing his best to control his rage.

Drake attempted to deny the woman's claims. "That's not-"

"Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut? Do you see any seventy-year-old men pulling their dicks out anywhere? Do you?" It became clear that she wanted an answer when she got in his face and repeated, "Do you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then why is your mouth open?"

There was silence. Ricardo knew Drake; he knew he was feeling overwhelmed with shame, humiliation, fear and hopelessness. Drake wouldn't want to give Allie the satisfaction of knowing she could break him, but there was no way he'd made it this far into the conversation without watery eyes at the very least. He was on the verge of crying for sure.

"Huh?" She waited. "Cat got your tongue? Huh?"

More silence. Either Drake didn't answer or he gave her a shrug. He wasn't normally brave enough to disrespect others by leaving their questions without responses, so the latter was more likely.

Allie continued berating him. "I haven't once heard you speak a single word of intelligence since I met you, which means that mouth of yours is only good for one thing. You knew that, though, didn't you? That's what your gym coach taught you. That's what your father taught you."

Ricardo felt sick to his stomach upon hearing this and he could only imagine what his best friend had felt.

"You're nothing," she taunted. "You're just a worthless...cock-sucking...slut."

She knew. She knew the words that had been branded into his skin. She knew everything. She knew every last detail about him. He could never win against her, just like he could never win against her step-daughter. She had all the power.

"That bitch!" Ricky spat.

"It's a shame your father didn't get the chance to finish what he started when he tried to kill you. I think it would've done the world some good. Don't you?"

Drake's voice was almost inaudible when he choked out a strangled, "Yes, ma'am." It broke Dee's heart because he sounded like his answer was sincere.

"I'll tell you what you're gonna do now. You're gonna apologize to me for trying to get me fired and then, after the day is finished out, you're gonna go to the other directors and tell them that everything you said about me was a lie. You tell them that you couldn't handle my constructive criticism on your performance and you wanted to get rid of me, then you quit the play. You understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now you can start with that apology. I want you to look at me. Stop hiding your faggot face like a coward."

Drake sniffled, confirming what Ricardo already knew. He was crying. Dee had seen this. The boy had been pretty good at hiding it up until this point because he'd wiped his eyes a couple times. He was going to have to surrender and admit defeat and she was going to enjoy every last second of it. He sniffled again, then most likely followed orders and met her cold, green eyes.

"I'm very sorry for telling on you. I shouldn't've said anything. I'm sorry."

"I can't believe you were dumb enough to think they would actually believe you. I've worked with those bitches for years. They're almost as retarded as you. Dahlia said you were an idiot, but I didn't realize you were this much of a dumbass." Allie was definitely taking pleasure in what had to be the most pitiful expression on the boy's face. "Get out of my sight, you dirty hoe-bag homo."

Drake could be heard walking away.

"Jesus!" Dee exclaimed. "She is horrible! I didn't realize that what she was saying to him was this bad. I mean, I knew it was awful. The things she's called him should've been enough to get her fired, but this! This is a whole new level of bitch. That's probably what he's in there doing right now. I thought he was going to the bathroom."

Ricardo remained silent because he knew he would snap if he didn't try to calm himself. Dee knew him well enough to know it was best to give him his silent time. His boyfriend had a huge temper. However, after Drake had first moved in, he'd had to learn to stop yelling and man-handling. He still blew up uncontrollably every now and then, like when the trucker had pissed all over his friend the day he got out of the hospital after his two month long relapse. He'd beaten that fucker so bad he probably had to take time off work to let the swelling in his eyes go down just so he could see the road when he was driving his eighteen-wheeler. This was why Drake was scared of him. He was scared to go back home after that first relapse and he was scared to face him after trying to seduce Dee. After the Dee incident, Drake had told Julio how fearful he was that Ricky would hit him, which ultimately led to his running away despite Julio's promises that he wouldn't be physically harmed. The traumatized young man wasn't off-limits when it came to Ricardo's rage. In fact, he's suffered from it many times, like when he was drinking underage at his bar and got into a fight with some guy bothering Mindy or when he lost his temper during an argument that had started when he'd learned that Drake was back at his father's after he'd vowed never to return or when he found the boy letting Tad fuck him on the kitchen table. The common denominator in those situations was that Charlie had always been present. Now that Drake was clean, he cowered away at the first sign of aggression.

"Okay..." Ricardo let go of his breath, then took another deep one. "Okay, so...okay." He unbuckled his seat-belt. "Well, we have to stop him from quitting the play."

"Hold on a sec," Dee said as he messed with his cell phone.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm cutting the video so we can play some of it, but leave out all the shit she said about prostituting and sexual assault." He finished up the new video. It started at the "worthless, cock-sucking slut" line and ended at "dirty hoe-bag homo." He opened the door like he was on a mission. "Alright, let's go. I'm about to snatch a bitch's wig."

Despite the situation, Ricardo couldn't help but smile. Even during dark times, Dee never lost his sense of humor. That's one thing he loved about him. He got out of the car and followed the man inside the theatre. Dee led him to an office and knocked on the door.

There was a muffled woman's voice on the other side. "Can you see who that is, Drake?"

Seconds later, the door opened and the sight surprised Drake. "What are you doing here?"

He wondered if they somehow knew why he was here, but how could they? Well, whether they did or not, they definitely knew now. He was in a room with all the directors, Allie included. She had a smug look on her face while the others wore both shock and confusion, partly caused by Drake's false confession and partly by the interruption at the door.

"Dude, are you quitting the play?" Ricardo asked quietly as his boyfriend entered the room uninvited and approached the directors with the evidence.

Drake was quiet.

"What the hell? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd try to stop me."

"Well, yeah, because I know how much fun you're having and I think it's good that you're having fun."

"It's not like I really have a choice."

However, it was at that moment that he heard Allie's familiar voice say, "You're nothing. You're just a worthless...cock-sucking...slut." Drake looked at her, surprised that she would be so open about her thoughts in public, but he quickly realized that it wasn't her speaking. His eyes moved to Dee and the cell phone he had sitting on the desk. The directors surrounded it, listening with their jaws dropped. Allie was starting to sweat and squirm.

When Drake realized it was the conversation from earlier, he started to react similarly to the woman who had been bullying him. "What the fuck? Dee, don't play that."

"It's okay," Ricardo assured quietly so that only his friend could hear. "He cut out the personal shit."

The boy's volume matched his. "Dahlia's gonna fucking kill me for this."

"We'll deal with it as it comes. You can't let her control your life anymore. Don't you wanna be in this musical?"

He did, so he gave in and no longer protested. He glanced at Allie, gauging her reaction as she listened to herself giving him instructions to take responsibility and drop out of the play. When she caught him looking, he hung his head. Ricardo put a hand on his shoulder for support, but removed it and apologized when he felt Drake tense up. Sometimes during overwhelming situations, he liked to be comforted to know that he wasn't alone. This wasn't one of those times. This was the type of high-intensity situation that left him feeling scared and anxious, just like he'd always felt around his dad.

Drake often "blacked out" during verbal abuse, meaning he couldn't quite remember a lot of the things that were said during this one-sided conversation. He was just as shocked as the others to hear Allie use the words "bitches" and "retarded" when referring to her co-workers. She was definitely going down. The recording ended at "dirty hoe-bag homo" and everyone in the room was looking at the woman who had said it with utter disbelief.

"This is bullshit," she said. "This was taken completely out of context."

"Then what was the proper context?" the lead director named Catalina asked. Her lips were pursed and her eyes fierce.

"He-" she started, then she stuttered over her words a bit. "You have no idea what this prick has done!"

A worried look flashed across Drake's eyes. Was she going to call him out?

"It didn't sound to me like he did anything. He was polite and respectful while you stood there degrading him."

"It's a front. He's a horrible person. Play the rest of the recording. You'll hear who he really is."

"Sorry, that's all I got." Dee said in a falsely apologetic tone as he shrugged.

"I'm sure it is." Allie rolled her eyes. "That's okay. I can fill them in myself. This shit stain right here is a junkie and a prostitute. He hangs out around truck stops and lets men fuck him for twenty dollars, then he buys drugs and gets fucked up on them."

Drake was beginning to breathe rapidly, Ricardo noticed. He was on the verge of a panic attack and his eyes were glazed over with tears.

"That kind of language is unnecessary, Allie." Catalina turned to Drake. "Is what she's saying true?"

Dee could tell that his friend was distraught and was considering telling the truth, so he spoke up first. "Of course not. Does he look like he's on drugs to you? Has he once acted any type of way that would give off the vibe that he's an addict? He comes in and he works his ass off just like everyone else. He's one of the best performers here and he's never even acted in a play before."

Allie spoke up. "He's so good at playing a homeless junkie because he is one. Playing this role is like living just another ordinary day in his life."

"You are slandering his name and his character because you got caught. You've had it out for him since he was cast because he called off the engagement to your step-daughter and they split. All of these lies and accusations are just petty and pathetic attempts to get revenge on him for breaking your kid's heart. This is the third conversation that he's had with you here where he's walked away in tears and that's unacceptable. Drake and I auditioned together and we joined to have fun while getting the chance to be apart of a production we both love, but you've ruined that for him. Everyday he comes in, he has to deal with your death glares and snide remarks and taunts. Even when he's doing well, you call him out and accuse him of being off-beat or too sharp or whatever just to embarrass him in front of the others. And the horrible names you've called him — like faggot and cock-sucker, just to name a few — are pretty homophobic for someone involved in this particular musical, sweetie."

Ricardo could only stand there in amazement as his boyfriend — as he had said — "snatched a bitch's wig." He knew the situation was serious, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't totally turned on right now.

"That's all a crock of shit!" Allie said.

"No, he's right," said Catalina. "The way you've treated him is inexcusable. Whatever personal issues you two have outside of here should be left outside of here. Also, we don't tolerate the kind of vile and sickening language you've used towards him."

To Drake, her voice started to fade. He was sweating and on high alert and Ricardo touching him earlier — although in a supportive manner — didn't help anything. It felt like the walls were closing in. There were two many people in this small room and all their talking and arguing and huffing and puffing left little air for him. He realized now that this was a lose-lose situation. Either he'd be allowed to remain in the play and Allie would get fired, starting an all-out war against Dahlia, or he'd still have to drop out due to the drama and accusations despite this argument, which will also cause an all-out war with Dahlia. He was fucked. She. Was going. To destroy him.

Ricardo expressed sudden worry when Drake rushed past him. He ran after him and only caught up when the boy stopped at the bathroom. "Drake, it's me," he announced. He found his friend in the first stall, hunching over a toilet and already throwing up.

"This is so fucked up," the young man said when he was finished vomiting a couple minutes later.

"I know."

"That was so embarrassing."

"The other directors didn't believe a word Allie said. They're on your side."

"Dahlia's gonna be so pissed."

"We'll figure it out. We always do," he assured. "Everything'll be okay." He added, "Right?"

Drake weakly pushed himself to his feet. "Right."

"This is the first step towards taking back control of your life again. You did it with drugs. Now you just have to let go of Dahlia."

The boy nodded absently to himself. He no longer seemed as though he would have an anxiety attack, but he still didn't look well. This was fairly normal. Almost having one still left him with milder symptoms of actually having one, like disorientation, confusion and the shakes.

After Drake rinsed his mouth out with water he had scooped up from the sink faucet, Ricardo asked, "You alright?"

"Yeah. I wanna smoke."

"Okay. I'll go with you."

He wiped his damp cheeks. "Is anyone out in the hall?"

The man pushed the door open. "No, you're good."

"Okay."

He sniffled, then the two headed outside and Drake lit up. He got about halfway through his cigarette before Ricardo broke the silence.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. It was really nice, what you and Dee did. Clem would've come after me whether this happened or not," he said. "I guess I'm just nervous because now there's a definite line drawn." He took another drag, then slowly let go of his breath. "It didn't occur to me until recently, but I'm actually scared of her. I mean, I always have been, but I didn't realize it until we broke up."

Ricardo didn't get a chance to respond because his phone rang. He saw that it was his boyfriend and answered it. He only spoke a few words before hanging up. "Dee said Catalina wants you to come to the office."

Drake sighed. "You think they're gonna kick me out of the play?"

"No, I don't think so. Dee would've raised hell."

The boy let out a quiet, breathy laugh through his nostrils. "He was a total badass in there. Kinda hot, right?" He looked up at his friend to gauge his reaction and he laughed when he saw Ricardo grinning stupidly, unable to help himself.

"Shut the fuck up." He gave the young man a shove, then the two headed back inside.

On their way down the hall, they passed Allie, who was storming towards the exit and, of course, she had to get one last word in before she left. "Pathetic coward. You are gonna regret this! Do you hear me?"

Ricardo nudged him along and they went into the office. Dee was still in there, as well as Catalina and the other director named Zara.

"Drake," Catalina greeted with a kind smile. "Are you alright? You ran out of here pretty abruptly."

"I just needed some air," he answered, suddenly shy and distant.

"Zara and I would like to personally apologize to you for not believing your claims the first time you came to us. We've worked with Allie for years and have never known her to do something like this."

"It's okay." He hated when people apologized to him. He wasn't sure why exactly. Maybe he was used to being on the opposite end of apologies or maybe he felt he didn't deserve it. If someone insisted on saying sorry, he preferred a short acknowledgement of the wrongdoing or even just silent understanding, accompanied by a change in behavior or attitude or whatever.

"It's not okay. Zara and I should've been more vigilant and should've investigated further before writing you off as someone who didn't handle constructive criticism well. She was not giving you constructive criticism. The things she said to you are completely unacceptable. Allie will no longer be part of this production. However, we do hope that you, on the other hand, would change your mind and stay."

"Yeah, I would like that," Drake said.

"Great." Catalina smiled. "Well, I guess that's everything. We'll see you boys bright and early tomorrow morning."

The three guys headed out and Dee grabbed his phone on the way.

"That went well," Ricardo said when they were outside. He looked at Drake to gauge his reaction.

"Yeah." The youngest turned to them. "Thanks. That was really nice of you to look out for me like that, Dee."

"That's what friends are for." He messed up the boy's hair like Ricardo often did to annoy him, which made his boyfriend laugh.

"You coming over for dinner, babe?"

"Yeah," Dee said. "Who's cooking?"

"Julio," the youngest answered.

The man squinted his eyes when he saw the sinister smile on Drake's face. "What's that about?"

Ricardo shrugged. "Julio lost some kind of bet that Drake cheated on."

"I didn't cheat," he denied. "I just practiced first, then spent the week sending Julio subliminal messages so that he'd make the bet and think it was his idea."

"That's pretty fucked up," Dee said with a chuckle.

"Think fast," Ricardo said suddenly, tossing the keys to Drake, who caught them with confusion. "I'm gonna ride home with Dee."

"Wow, the Dee verses Allie thing really got you all worked up, huh? So turned on you can't even wait until you get home."

Dee tried to hide his smirk, but couldn't.

"Shut the fuck up," Ricky said.

"No, it's great. It's cool. Totes adorbs. Enjoy the road-head." Drake took off running when the man moved towards him threateningly. "I'm kidding! Chill!"

Ricardo turned back to his boyfriend and the two laughed as they headed towards Dee's car.

"He ran off like you were gotta beat his ass."

"I was gonna beat his ass and he knows it. He hates when I show off my superior strength, but he keeps fucking trying me." He got inside the car and buckled up. "One time, he got on my nerves so bad that I started chasing him around the house and he kept yelling for Julio."

"Julio didn't come?" he asked as he cranked the car.

"No, he did, but he didn't help him. He just came downstairs for the entertainment. Made himself a bowl of cereal and just stood there watching."

"What an asshole."

"Yeah, but it's better that he didn't get involve. Anytime Drake and Julio are wrestling together, shit gets broken. This morning, it was the lamp. Julio shoved Drake over the end table and they knocked it over."

"Shit."

"Yeah, they're rough. Drake deserved it, though. He woke Julio up this morning by putting a snake in his bed."

Dee laughed. "Shit, are you serious?! Y'all don't play at all," he said. "Remind me to never spend the night over there again."

"What? You're scared of a little snake?" his boyfriend teased.

"I'm not scared."

"Mm-hmm."

"I like yours, don't I?"

Ricardo's jaw dropped and he scoffed, which made Dee laugh. "Okay, well, that road-head's definitely off the table."

"I'm kidding, babe." He grabbed Ricky's hand and kissed it for reassurance. "It's very big."

The man wasn't really offended because he knew the size of his package was larger than average. He continued to hold the driver's hand, rubbing his thumb across his skin gently as a small way of showing affection.

"So if Drake's willing to handle a snake to scare Julio, you don't think he's planning something bad to do to you as revenge for waking him up with a water gun?"

"He might be planning something, but it won't be as bad as anything he would do to Julio because he's scared I'll kick his ass."

"And he's got nothing on these gigantic muscles." Dee massaged his passenger's bicep.

"Thanks, babe," Ricky grinned, "but you're still not getting that road-head."

Dee pulled away with a frown. "I'ma kick Drake's ass myself for ruining my shit."

Drake beat the couple home, but only by less than a minute. His door was open and one of his feet was on the concrete, but he remained inside the vehicle. When Ricardo approached, he saw that he was sending a message.

"You better not have been texting and driving."

"I wasn't," the boy said. "I'm just now responding. Sawyer wanted to come hang out. Is that okay?"

"Drake, how long have you lived here? You know you don't have to ask when you wanna invite company."

"I know. I just thought if you guys were about to go to pound town, I didn't wanna subject my guest to all those noises."

"Alright, I'm done with your stupid ass."

Drake smiled as the man walked away. He sent his response, then got out of the car and followed the couple inside. Ricardo reached the door first and when he opened it, a bucket trap above the door turned over, spilling spaghetti all over the man. Julio laughed obnoxiously.

"Julio..." his older brother growled as the sauce dripped down his skin.

Drake and Dee carefully stepped around him to get a better look.

"I am going to kill you." He wasn't going to now because he didn't want to sling spaghetti everywhere while chasing Julio all over the house, but it was coming later. Oh boy, it was coming.

"That was meant for Drake," the young man explained, still dying of laughter.

Drake was laughing, too. "Oof. That sucks."

"You couldn't have come up with something that would've guaranteed you had the right target?"

"Well, this works, too. Drake wouldn't have been as pissed, so it wouldn't have been as funny. You should see the look on your face right now. Lemme show you." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture, then held it out for his brother to see. He wasn't scared of him like Drake was. "This is payback for posting that picture of me in the blanket fort," he said. "Plus, you were the one that held me down when he put the snake on me, so you were apart of it."

Dee scooped the noodles off of his boyfriend and dropped them in the floor with disgust.

"You're so fucking dead," Ricky threatened.

"Would it make you feel better if I got Drake back, too?" Before Drake could defend himself, Julio hit him in the groin.

The boy yelped as he dropped to his knees, clutching himself. He hunched over and took short, staccato breaths. His teeth were clenched and he growled at the pain. "Asshole!"

There was more laughter, but now it was at Drake's expense. Dee shrugged, then grabbed a handful of spaghetti off of Ricardo again. This time, he dropped it on a hurting Drake rather than on the floor. This made Ricky feel better, so he joined in.

"Look what I found!" Drake announced excitedly as he bounced into the kitchen, his hair damp from his shower.

Julio was making dinner while Ricardo and Dee hung out with him, all conversing as if the spaghetti incident hadn't even happened. The Santos household was in the middle of an all-out war, but it didn't mean that any of the pranks were to be taken seriously.

When Drake set a radio on the island, Julio said, "I forgot about that thing."

It was the one they used to keep in the bathroom so that they could listen to music in the shower. This was before they had portable speakers. When they got those, the radio disappeared underneath the sink.

"And look what was inside." Drake pulled out a disc.

Dee read the childish scribbles. "Ricardo's Mix." He looked at his boyfriend teasingly. "Wow."

"Oh my God," Ricky grinned with embarrassment.

"We used to listen to this shit all the time," Drake said.

"I don't even remember what was on it."

"Me neither, but it was dope." He put the CD back in and carried the radio over to the counter so that he could plug in the cord.

Moments later, music started and it was so specific that everyone immediately knew what song it was. Purple Pills by D12. The reactions ranged. Julio laughed, Dee looked at his boyfriend with surprise, Ricardo was even more embarrassed and Drake got even more excited.

"Oh, hell yeah." Drake grinned. "This is so cool!" The second Eminem's voice started the chorus, he rapped right along with him.

I take a couple uppers, I down a couple downers
But nothing compares to these blue and yellow purple pills
I've been to mushroom mountain once or twice but who's countin'?
But nothing compares to these blue and yellow purple pills

"You probably shouldn't be listening to this kind of music anymore," Ricardo suggested, but Drake ignored him and continued, while putting on a show.

Drake: Cool, calm, just like my mom
With a couple of Valium inside her palm
It's Mr. Mischief with a trick up his sleeve
Roll up on you like Christopher Reeves
Julio: Aaahhhhhh

Julio jumped in with the backup as if he was fourteen-years-old again. Despite the age difference, he had always been close to Ricardo since they shared a bedroom. The two brothers plus Drake would hang out in there and listen to the oldest's music so often that they all had their own parts and everything.

Drake: I can't describe the vibe I get
When I drive by six people and five I hit
Julio: Whoops
Drake: Aw shit, I started a mosh pit
Squashed a bitch and stomped her foster kids
Julio: Ah!

Dee couldn't help but watch with pure amusement as the two put on a show, moving around the kitchen like they did this kind of thing everyday. He looked at Ricardo, whose cheeks were pink with embarrassment. He cringed even more and shook his head when Drake came over and tried to get him to join their fun.

Drake: These shrooms make me hallucinate
Then I sweat 'til I start losin' weight
'Til I see dumb shit start happenin'
Dumber than Vanilla Ice tryna rap again
Julio: Aaahhhhhh
Drake: So bounce, bounce, come on, bounce
I said come on, bounce!

He played this line as if he were speaking directly to Ricardo, but the man wouldn't stand.

Drake: Everybody in the house with a half an ounce
Julio: Me!
Drake: Not weed, I meant coke, dumbass sit down
We don't bullshit, better ask around
D12 throws the bombest bash in town
Bizarre, your mom is passin' out
Get her ass on the couch 'fore she crashes out
Julio: Come on

Like Drake, Julio said this as if he were urging his brother to join. The man refused to stand, but he rapped his part for them, feigning annoyance as he began.

Ricardo: Fuck that, someone help Denaun
He's upstairs naked with a weapon drawn
Julio: Hey Von you see me steppin' on these leprechauns?
Ricardo: It gotta be acid 'cause the X is gone
Julio: Yeah, I took 'em all, dog, with some parmesan
And I think my arm is gone
Ricardo: Naw, it's probably numb
Young, dumb, and full of cum
And I think he 'bout to swallow his tongue
Julio: Scary ass it was a false alarm
You think I'm 'bout to die when I just got on?
Ricardo: Well, stop actin' stupid
You so high that you might wake up with a guy on some new shit

They all laughed at how ironic this line was now that Ricky had embraced his sexuality.

Ricardo: Yeah, I think I did too much
Drake: Uh-huh
Ricardo: This substance equals cuffs
Drake: Uh-huh
Ricardo: Red pills, blue pills
Ricardo and Julio: And green
Ricardo: Big pills
Julio: That's ill
Ricardo: Mescaline

This time, all three went in on the chorus and Dee even joined them. Afterwards, Julio said something, but no one could hear over the music, so Drake turned it down a bit.

"Can you get the cream of mushroom out of the pantry?"

"Yeah."

"That's a bad song," Ricardo said. "You don't need to be singing that song." Part of him started to think about that same recurring thought he sometimes got in his head. He was the one who had introduced Drake to this song and he wondered if it had anything to do with the beginning of the boy's drug addiction. He didn't like to mull over these kinds of thoughts for too long because then they would start to bring him down. He knew his friend would assure him that this had nothing to do with the way he'd turned out and that Ricardo hadn't played a part in his downward spiral at all. Whether this was true or not, Ricky did help him get his life back on track and that counted for so much more.

"So this is the kind of music you listened to, huh?" Dee teased.

"Fuck off." He gave him a playful shove.

Meanwhile, Drake was standing over Julio's shoulder as he opened the can of soup. "How much longer?"

"Fucking forever because you picked this thing that would take forever to cook," he snapped back.

The young man groaned.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Julio stared at him.

"I'm starving," Drake defended.

"Boo fucking hoo. Guess you should've thought about that before you tried to be clever. Now it's gonna bite you in the ass."

Dee and Ricardo turned their attention to the bickering boys and listened in as Drake opened the cabinet and grabbed a bowl.

"I'm gonna eat cereal."

"No!" Julio smacked the plastic bowl out of his hand with an aggressive karate chop and it landed on the ground.

"The fuck, Julio?!"

"You will not spoil your dinner when I'm making fancy shit! If you're gonna make me stand here and cook for two fucking hours, then I'm gonna make you wait to eat for two fucking hours."

"You're so fucking annoying," Drake grumbled, but he picked up his bowl and put it away.

The eavesdropping couple laughed.

"You guys act like you're married or something," said Dee.

"We might as well be," said Julio. "Neither of us are getting pussy right now and I'm tired of doing the shit myself."

"Better watch what you wish for," his brother said. "Drake'll actually do that shit."

Drake scoffed. He was kind of offended by what the man said. He knew Ricky hadn't meant it maliciously, but it was still hurtful. However, the last thing he wanted was another Drake cry-fest, so he went along with the joke. "I don't do that shit for free anymore, though. If we're doing this thing, I want your flat-screen and your Blu-Ray player."

Julio said, "You don't even own any fucking Blu-Rays."

"I'll get some."

Julio looked at him with squinted eyes. "I really can't tell if you're being serious or not."

Drake shrugged. His sexuality was something he'd low-key been confused about ever since he'd lived with his father, but after his two month long relapse that left him spending most of his nights bouncing from one tractor to another, he was completely unable to understand himself and differentiate desire from duty. The sex became enjoyable. In the time that followed, especially during his voluntary experiment with Ricardo, things started to become a bit clearer. He wasn't physically attracted to men and he never saw any that he desired to have sex with. He liked women, but he also liked anal. He liked playing with breasts and he actually enjoyed giving cunnilingus. Giving head wasn't an enjoyable experience as much as it was...a chore. Like Ricky and Julio had said, it was a form of payment that he never should've learned about. Although he could somehow comprehend this now, he didn't see himself saying no if, hypothetically, Julio did ask for a blowjob or more even. It was so ingrained in his brain that it was normal and that it was the only reason for his existence and that would take a lot of therapy to reverse. He called it sexual freedom while Ricardo called it the exact opposite. It was only sexual freedom if the desire was there, but the desire wasn't there for Drake. It was indifference. It was a desperation to please. It was a need to continue the punishment Martin was no longer able to give him. It was a fucked up byproduct of the trauma his dad had caused. The boy wanted nothing more than to earn his father's love, but even he knew that Martin would be absolutely appalled and repulsed by his behavior if he was still alive to see it. No matter what, he could never do anything right in the eyes of his father.

"Anyway, I'm gonna smoke," the young man said, dismissing himself.

Ricardo could tell that he was upset and he immediately felt guilty. "Drake," he tried, but his friend had already left the kitchen. A second later, he heard the front door open and close. "Shit, I hurt his feelings." He sighed, then stood. "I'll be back."

He went outside and found Drake in the chair. He already had a lit cigarette between his lips and he was weeping. Ricky knew this because his friend wouldn't look at him.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I don't know why I said that."

Drake shrugged. "It's fine." He was trying to play it off like he wasn't upset and he was doing a good job, but Ricardo knew him better than that.

"I'm a jerk. It wasn't funny. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," but this time, his voice cracked, proving the exact opposite. This frustrated him, but he couldn't keep pretending he was fine. "I don't know why I'm crying. It's not even a big deal."

Ricardo dragged the second chair closer to Drake's before he sat down, then he pulled his friend in for a hug. "I'm sorry."

"It's really okay," the boy said again. "I just get so fucking disgusted with myself sometimes. I know you didn't mean it like that."

"I really didn't. It wasn't meant in a bad way at all."

He knew what it sounded like. It sounded like he was calling Drake a whore. Drake was always the type to sleep around. A lot of people did that. That's not the reason he was upset.

"It's okay," he couldn't stop saying. "It's not even what you said. It's what I did...because you're right."

"No, Drake, I wasn't. What I said had nothing to do with you getting involved in sex work. I was referencing the time we shared at the cabin. I wasn't trying to make you feel bad about anything. In fact, I'm so grateful that me and you did that because, if it wasn't for that moment, I'd probably still be lying to myself about who I am. You have no idea how much you've helped me love and accept myself," Ricardo said. "I know you felt like you had to do a lot of shit on the streets to get by, but I swear I don't think any less of you because of it. No one here does and that's not the person we see when we look at you."

"I wish I could go back," Drake said. "I wish I would've been brave enough to ask for help before things got so bad."

"I know," Ricardo said as he squeezed tighter, "but you're here now."

The young man took comfort in his embrace for a few more moments before separating. He kept his head low as he wiped his eyes and his nose and he sniffled. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"I know you didn't mean it in a rude way. My brain just clings to a thought and then runs wild with it and then I get overwhelmed and upset. It's stupid." He sniffled again as he continued to wipe his eyes off on his sleeve.

"It's not stupid," the man assured.

"I'm so fucking tired of crying all the time," said Drake. "It's not cute."

"There's nothing wrong with crying. You're just a sensitive guy is all."

"Great. Just what every girl wants. Someone who can outcry them during The Notebook."

Ricardo couldn't help but crack a small smile. "You talk about your feelings and you listen when others talk about theirs. You have a lot of empathy for people. A lot of women want that...probably. Honestly, I'm the last guy you should get advice from about women, but I think communication is key in every relationship and you're good at that."

"Thanks," the boy said. "I don't know why I'm stressing about relationships anyway. That's the last thing I need right now."

"I think that's probably a good idea."

"It's just always been so hard for me to be alone. I've been dating since...like, kindergarten when Melanie Reese kissed me on the jungle gym."

"Being single's not that bad. Learning to love yourself without needing the approval of someone else is one of the best things you can do for yourself. I think after you do that, when you do get in a relationship again, it'll be more solid."

Drake gave one last sniffle, then he reached for his lighter because his cigarette had died out during their hug. "Thanks. I feel better now."

"You gonna stay out here for a while?"

"Yeah. Sawyer shouldn't be too much longer."

"I don't want you to sit out here by yourself and start thinking yourself into a depression spiral."

"I won't," Drake said. To assure him, he added, "The last thing I wanna do is have a crying episode while I have company. That's embarrassing."

"Okay." Ricardo gave his shoulder a supportive squeeze after he stood, then he started to go inside. "Oh, you remember your counselor appointment is tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"You're going this time?"

"Yeah," he promised. "No matter what."

The man opened the door and could just faintly hear music. "Oh, shit." He looked at his friend. "Pac's on."

"Well, I can't miss that." Drake put his cigarette in the ashtray and stood.

Ricardo smiled as they went into the kitchen together. It was obvious the boy had been crying, but everyone was used to this by now. They knew Ricky had talked to him, so no one else asked about it because they knew he didn't like being treated like a baby.

The Makaveli rap was just beginning and it was one that all four knew by heart.

Come with me
Hail Mary, run quick, see
What do we have here now?
Do you wanna ride or die?
La da-da-la la la la la

I ain't a killer, but don't push me
Revenge is like the sweetest joy next to gettin' pussy

"Hey? Drake?" Ricardo whispered. He refrained from shaking him awake because sometimes the sudden unexpected touch could scare him. Instead, he raised his volume slightly. "Drake, wake up."

His eyes opened suddenly like he was on full alert and he took in a sharp breath through his nostrils. Once he saw that it was only his roommate and that he was in the sanctity of the Santos home, he calmed down. "What'swrong?" he slurred.

"Are you gonna get up for your appointment?"

"Time izzit?"

"Nine forty-five. You said it was at eleven, right?"

"Yeah." This was all he said because he was so tired and when he was tired, he was often confused. Why was Ricardo waking him up? Did he forget to set the alarm? No, he definitely set it. He remembered now. He set it for ten. "I have fifteen minutes."

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were gonna get up. I have to leave for work now. You promise you'll get up and go?"

"Yeah," he said, half asleep.

Ricky left him alone and quietly left the room. Drake was asleep in no time. Fifteen minutes went by before the alarm on the boy's phone went off. Again, his eyes shot open and his breathing got fast. He hated not getting to wake up naturally. Beginning his mornings like this set him up for failure for the rest of the day. He felt movement behind him and rolled onto his back.

Sawyer was waking. His eyes opened tiredly and when he saw Drake, he offered a small smile. "Good morning."

Drake stretched out his muscles and let out a quiet moan while doing so, then he rubbed his eyes.

"You about to go to your appointment?"

"Yeah."

"Think you could drop me off on the way."

"Yeah."

Sawyer went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth with Drake, then while his friend got dressed, he trudged downstairs and hung out with Julio, who offered him a quick breakfast. Ricardo never told Julio he had to get up at this time to make sure their friend made the right decision, but he wanted to make sure Drake went to his appointment, too, so he had breakfast ready. Now that he was sober, he was going to become a better friend. He wanted to be a good influence, just like Drake was trying to be for him. No more tearing each other down. They were going to build each other up and set examples and help each other through ruts. Together, they were going to become better people.

When his sobriety buddy came downstairs, he declined food and instead had a couple cigarettes for breakfast. While he smoked, he started to feel bad because he knew Julio had made him something already, so he took some bacon to go and thanked the young man. He made sure to grab his phone because he knew that despite Ricardo's growing trust, he would definitely check to confirm his location when it was time for the appointment. After that, he gave his kittens a kiss and was out the door.

After they got a couple minutes down the street, Sawyer broke the silence. "Thanks for letting me stay last night and listening to me vent."

"Of course. Any time." He still wasn't eating his bacon, but he had it wrapped up in a napkin in the cup holder for afterwards if his nerves settled. "Ryan's an asshole. You deserve better."

"Thanks. We've just been together for so long and it's hard to leave. I still love him."

"I know what you mean," Drake said sincerely. "I still think about Clementine everyday. I just wanna call her and hear her voice, but I know it's a bad idea. I mean, the one time I did see her after we split, I ended up relapsing that night."

"I've been so wrapped up in all my bullshit lately. I've been meaning to check in ever since your birthday. You look like you're doing better, though."

"Yeah, I cleaned up again."

"That's good. I was gonna talk to you about it. I know it looked like I was trying to cover for you, but I wasn't. I just didn't want there to be a big explosion or anything. There were kids there and I know you would've hated yourself for being caught high around Ricardo and Julio's family. I could tell Ricardo knew that something was up with you and he's really the only one who needed to know. I didn't want anyone else to get mad at you, so that's why I tried to help you out," Sawyer said. "I just wanted to clear that up because I would never become an enabler for your addiction. If I knew you were heading down that road, I'd confront you about it and then tell Ricardo if that didn't work."

"Thanks," said Drake. "I guess I should've made the effort to talk to you about this sooner. I've been kinda distancing myself from you lately after that because I thought that, if I did mess up again, you would be the first one I went to if I needed drug money or something."

"Yeah, I could tell something's been up with you because you haven't responded to many of my messages, but I just haven't had time to approach you about it because of all the shit with Ryan."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be a dick."

"No, don't be sorry. In fact, I'm glad you're willing to distance yourself from people you think are gonna fuck up your sobriety. That's a good thing. You gotta take care of you."

"I promised Ricky I wouldn't slip up again and I really mean it this time. I guess I've meant it every other time, too, but this time feels different. I've just betrayed Ricky a lot and he's having a hard time trusting me, which I get."

"You guys fighting a lot?" Sawyer asked.

"No, not at all. We talked through it and put a system in place. It just gets annoying sometimes."

"What kind of system?"

"Like, he holds on to all my money and I have to ask when I wanna buy something and then bring the receipt back to prove that I bought what I said I would buy. Sometimes when I come home, he stares at me and I can tell he's looking to see if my eyes are dilated. He does random bag and room checks every once in a while, which is weird, but I know he feels just as awkward doing it and I'm really the one who put him in the position where he feels like he has to do it anyway. Plus, he has my phone set up to share my location with him, which I guess is fine because I don't wanna end up on the streets again. It's just a constant reminder that I'm a fuck-up, I feel like," said Drake, then he added, "I mean, but it's whatever. I know I don't really have the right to complain. Today makes three weeks that I've been sober, but that's not really anything."

"Are you kidding me? That's everything. Three weeks is not an easy feat. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it's a lot."

This made Drake feel a bit better. "I guess I just hate starting over. I had nine months under my belt and then I fucked that up. I haven't come anywhere close to that long since."

"You'll get there. I know you will."

Drake heard him say it and he believed it, too.

"And hey, it's been three weeks. Maybe you can approach Ricardo and ask for a bit of slack. It doesn't have to be much. Just start small, you know? Maybe talk to him about the way he stares at you to see if your eyes are dilated. Just tell him how you feel and see if you two can work something out. You're both good at compromising," Sawyer said. "Besides, that's a habit that might take some time for him to break. He probably doesn't even realize he does it."

"I just don't want him to get mad at me. He has trusted me with a few things these past few weeks and I'm grateful for that. He's able to get past things a lot faster than I can. When Gem's ex betrayed me by telling a bunch of people one of my secrets, I quit talking to him for years. I lied to Ricardo about using and then manipulated him into thinking my relapse was his fault and I've done shit like this plenty of times before, but he forgives me every time. I feel like I'd be asking too much if I tried to speed up the process."

"It's Ricardo. He's always willing to hear you out. The worst thing he can do is say no, but he wouldn't get angry at you for expressing your feelings."

"Yeah, you're right," said Drake. "I think I'll talk to him."

Sawyer nodded. They continued to talk all the way to Gemini's house, then the passenger thanked him for letting him stay. He gave the boy a hug and wished him luck before getting out of the car. While Drake stuck around to make sure he got inside, he put the office address into his phone to get directions, then he backed out of the driveway and headed for the counselor's place.

The waiting room was pretty spacious with a high ceiling, yet Drake was the only patient there. The walls were a shiny dark brown wood and frames hung on the wall, each containing a professional photo of each of the counselors that worked here. The young man was feeling anxious as he waited and his nerves only got worse by the second, so he started texting Julio for support. He didn't want to have a panic attack here because then he'd always associate this place with that and never want to come back for fear of having another one. This is why Dee and Drake never went to Subway with the rest of the Rent crew anymore.

Julio: prob gonna play a game

Drake: wut game

Julio: uncharted maybe

"What's your name?"

The boy looked up from his phone. "Drake," he answered, then he thought to add, "Parker."

It was a dark-skinned woman with short hair. She wore a bland blouse and black slacks and although she had a generally kind face, there was something off about her expression. "You're early."

He looked down at his phone again and saw that it was just after eleven. He wasn't early. She was late.

"You're not supposed to be here until four."

He squinted his eyebrows with confusion. "I thought my appointment was at eleven."

"No, it's at four."

"Oh." See, this is why he shouldn't be keeping up with his own shit. He sucked at that. It's not even like he accidentally looked at the appointment card wrong and maybe saw two ones instead of just one. He'd made up a completely different number somewhere in between the time that he'd made the appointment and now. How did that even happen? "I'll just come back later then."

"I just had a patient cancel their appointment. I can see you now while you're here." She didn't seem too thrilled about this, though.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind—"

"It's fine. Follow me."

She seemed rather irritated and Drake immediately felt like she hated him. However, he tried to not dwell on that. He wanted to make this work — not just for himself, but also for Ricardo and Julio. He had to move past it even though he felt like he was a total fuck-up. He's been repeating the time over and over in his head for weeks. Seriously, how could he screw this up?

The woman led him through a door and down a hallway right past the check-out window. They turned a corner, went down another quiet hallway, then entered a room. There was a large oak desk with two chairs in front of it. Drake sat in one and the counselor sat in her office chair that was on the opposite side after closing the door.

"My name is Autumn Sobik," she introduced.

Drake offered a small, shy smile.

"I have a few papers I would like you to fill out — kinda like quizzes. They're pretty short. One will ask you some questions related to depression because that's what you mentioned over the phone, correct?" She opened one of her drawers and pulled out a sheet of paper, then placed it in front of Drake, who scooted his chair closer slightly.

"Yes, ma'am."

"This is just gonna help me to see where you are and determine whether or not you are depressed or if it's something else."

This upset him because he felt like she didn't believe him, but he tried to tame that thought. He knew it was just her job. A lot of people were so quick to jump on the depression train like it was a fad, so maybe this test was a good thing.

Autumn stood and went over to a filing cabinet. She started fingering through some folders. "I also want to test you for ADHD."

This wasn't something he'd mentioned on the phone and it wasn't a paper she had ready. She'd never planned on giving him this questionnaire, but after the incident with him mixing up his appointment time, she wanted to throw this in. This made him even more upset. It was a simple mistake. He had a lot of issues and only one hour to talk about them all and now she was going to waste his time with this. Over a fucking scheduling mishap!

"There's a pen right there. Go ahead and fill those out."

Drake grabbed one out of the cup and took the clipboard she handed him, then he grabbed the two pages. It wasn't super long, but still, he wasn't a fast reader and the way the questions and answers were worded required thought or maybe he was just stupid. This could take him fifteen minutes to complete. That's a fourth of his time wasted on an unnecessary ADHD test and honestly the depression test was unnecessary as well. This would all go much fast if she just asked him these questions herself and maybe explained each one to him. As if his sixty minutes wasn't already wasting away, Mrs. Sobik continued to give him a rundown of how things would go.

"After you finish, we'll go over the results and then I'm gonna ask you for a summary of why you're here. If we have time, we'll try to dig in deeper today..."

Her voice faded out as he read the first question. He was only half paying attention to what he read because he was trying to soak in her words at the same time. Over the past two weeks, how often do you feel little interest or pleasure in doing things — not at all, several days, most days, everyday? After reading the question and answers, he sat there and tried to think of examples so he could figure out which to circle. However, he felt like none of the answer choices properly conveyed him. What exactly was this referring to? When it came to things such as rehearsing for Rent or having sex, he totally enjoyed those, but at the same time, he might not feel all that excited about a book or film he was spending his time on. This could all occur in the same day, so if he has a lot of fun practicing some choreography at the theatre and then goes home and his mood changes so that he can't really get into the book he's trying to read, does that mean he feels little interest several days or everyday? Or maybe just most days? Plus, there seemed to be a huge jump between not at all and several days. Why didn't they use the word occasionally or sometimes or something that would make more sense and not seem so drastic? What if his answer was just a few days and not several days? What was he supposed—

"Don't think too hard," Autumn interrupted. "It's simple. Just go with whichever seems to fit you most."

That's what I'm trying to fucking do, he thought. He felt overwhelmed and just picked one: several days.

The woman continued her monologue that Drake was hardly able to pay attention to. "We'll save some time at the end of the session so we can talk about a treatment plan."

Should I look at her when she's talking to me or keep filling this out? Is that rude? She's fucking rushing me, though. I don't know what the fuck she's saying. God, she totally hates me. Shit, she's staring at me. Did she ask me something? Fuck. "I'm sorry?"

"I just asked how the tests were coming along."

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, they're coming." I'm such a dumbass.

Autumn continued to talk and Drake tried to listen because the last thing he wanted was to be caught not listening twice. The questions didn't get any easier and many minutes later, the counselor finished her spiel and again urged the boy not to over-think his answers. After that, she remained silent and the silence was even worse because then Drake kept obsessing over the fact that she was waiting on him and he couldn't focus on what he was reading. His hands were so hot and sweaty that at one point, the pen slipped right out of it. He apologized nervously although there was really no need to.

When he finished with one sheet, he passed it over, then started on the ADHD one. He felt better that she now had something to work on, too, but then she finished tallying up his totals before he finished his second quiz. She hates me. She totally fucking hates me. She was probably trying to go to lunch or watch a movie when I showed up. First, I show up at the wrong time and now I act like I can only read and comprehend at a first grade level.

"You about finished?"

"Yes, ma'am." He tried to rush through the last few questions, then he turned in his paper.

Autumn quickly graded that while he waited quietly. "Okay, she said. "So based on your scores on the depression test, it looks as though you have moderate depression."

It felt like someone had hit him in the chest. He didn't want to have severe depression (or any depression at all for that matter), but he knew he did, so the fact that he answered eight questions and she was trying to tell him how he was feeling upset him. If she doesn't even believe I'm depressed, then why the fuck am I even here? How could she possibly help?

Mrs. Sobik was now holding up a chart that was on the back of one of the papers and pointed to one of the columns with the eraser end of her pencil. "...and your scores landed here under the ADD column, but they're still pretty high and come close to ADHD, so I'd say you're borderline."

What does that even mean? I don't even fucking understand.

She got through his moderate depression diagnosis in about ten seconds, but the ADD/ADHD explanation lasted for a couple minutes and left him even more confused. When she finished, she said, "Do you have any questions about that?"

"What does that mean?" he asked.

She looked vexed for a moment, then went on to repeat everything she just said as if hearing it all a second time would suddenly make it make sense to him. When she asked if he had anymore questions about his diagnoses, he said he didn't.

"Okay, let's move on. What made you decide to call and make an appointment with us, Drake?"

"I was in a mental hospital and they recommended that I see a counselor," he said.

Autumn picked up her pen and pulled a notebook in front of herself, then stared writing. "When were you in the mental hospital?"

"Last month."

"How long did you stay?"

"A little over a week."

"And you were there for your depression?"

"Yes, ma'am." He knew he should probably tell her about the suicide attempt, but he didn't feel like talking about it.

"Were you given any medications?"

"The doctor there gave me Effexor."

"Have you been taking your medication as prescribed?"

"I was, but I didn't really feel a difference, so I stopped."

She looked up from her notepad and Drake cowered under her gaze. "Antidepressants can take a month to get into your system and start kicking in."

"I gave it about a month," he said.

"I think you should've waited a bit longer."

He said nothing and she went back to writing. After a moment, she continued her questioning.

"So besides being told to by the hospital, are there any reasons why you're here?"

"Um, there's the depression and I've also been feeling really anxious. Sometimes I have panic attacks."

"Tell me about those. How do you feel when you're having one?"

He felt like she was asking him to describe it because she didn't believe he had actually suffered through one. Part of him knew he was just jumping to conclusions, but his brain was too worn out to fight the negative thoughts from taking over. After showing up at the wrong time, taking forever on a dumb quiz, having his depression brushed off like he was overreacting and then being diagnosed with a whole other disorder he'd never even thought about before, he was convinced that the rest of his session would go just as poorly. She hated him. He could tell.

"It just feels like I can't breathe," he said. "I can't really control myself. I start screaming or crying or both. Sometimes it's hard to remember what exactly happens."

"You can control yourself during panic attacks," Autumn countered. "Towards the end of the session, I'll show you some tricks you can use."

He didn't like this response, but he tried to tell himself that it was because, whether he meant to or not, he didn't want to let go of his depression and anxiety. Maybe he was just as uncomfortable without it as he was with it. He could at least hear her out and give it a shot.

"Is there anything else you would like to add? What would you like to work on?" she asked. "What can I do to help you?"

Drake was quiet for a moment. Maybe he was misinterpreting the question, but it sounded like she was asking him how she should do her job. He didn't know what she was for. He only knew that she was supposed to help. He didn't know how. He didn't go to school for that shit and he wasn't getting paid to know how.

"Um, I guess...um..." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I just don't wanna feel this way anymore," he said vulnerably. "It's getting hard to deal with and I don't know what to do. I started using drugs so I didn't feel sad all the time."

"You abuse drugs?"

"I did."

"You don't anymore?"

"No, ma'am. I mean, I recently quit, but I'm really done for good."

"What drugs have you done, Drake?"

"Well, I really just had a problem with Triple C's."

"Triple C's," she repeated. "I'm not familiar with those."

"It stands for cold, cough and congestion."

"So cough syrup?"

"Kinda. But in pill form."

She scribbled silently for a few moments, then said, "Is that the only drug you've abused?"

"No, but it's the only one I had a problem with."

"What other drugs have you abused?" she persisted despite his attempts at evading the question.

"Weed, Xanax, computer duster, ecstasy, meth — nothing too crazy. I mean, I guess meth is pretty crazy, but I hardly ever did it and it really did nothing for me."

"You're lucky. Meth is not something to be played with."

No fucking shit, he thought to himself. If only his tongue was as brave as his brain.

"Let's go back to these-" She looked at her notes. "...Triple C's."

He waited for her to say more or at least ask him something, but she didn't. "Okay."

"When did you start taking these pills?"

"When I was sixteen," he answered.

"And how many would you take?"

"Eight."

"Eight?!" Her eyes flashed with shock.

Jesus, if she thinks eight's bad... He tried to defend himself. "Eight's the magic number with Charlie."

"Charlie?"

"Triple C's," he corrected. "I called them Charlie sometimes. In order to get high off of them, you have to take at least eight."

"Surely, that's not true."

Drake was dumbfounded. She was sitting there telling him how to take his favorite cough medicine when she just said minutes ago that she was unfamiliar with them.

"It is. If you Google it and read through forums, you'll see that number a lot. You have to take eight. At least."

"At least?" she repeated, trying to imagine someone swallowing so many pills altogether like that. "You take all eight at the same time?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She made some notes. "When's the last time you used?"

"Today makes three weeks that I've been clean," he said with some pride, but he received no congratulations.

"Is this the first time you've tried to quit?"

"No, not at all," he said, "but this is the first time it's gonna stick."

"How long did your latest relapse last?" Mrs. Sobik questioned.

"Just a week." Just a week. He was trying to make it sound like it wasn't so bad because he could already feel her judging him.

"How often did you use during that week?"

"Everyday."

"So you took eight pills everyday for seven days?"

"Well...no, ma'am. Not exactly. You see, I've been using for six years, so I've kinda built up a little bit of a tolerance."

"How many would you say you take on average?"

Drake's face was hot and he already felt embarrassed. He could picture her reaction. He could already see the judgement. "Forty-eight," he said meekly.

Her facial expression was even worse than what he pictured.

She hates me. She thinks I'm a lowlife piece of shit. He felt so awkward that he gave off a short, nervous chuckle. Dude, stop! What the fuck are you doing? She's gonna think you're fucking bragging. The more he tried to get rid of the smile, the bigger it got. Great. Fuck. So either she thinks I'm proud of it or she thinks I'm a habitual liar. Perfect.

"Have you never thought about the consequences that could happen by taking so many?" She said it almost like she was scolding him.

"I have, but I just decided it was a risk that I was willing to take. I'm so fucking depressed — I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm so depressed that I would be alright with dying." He was trying to steer the conversation back to the depression, which is why he'd come, but she continued talking about the Triple C's.

"So you have these pills and you sit there and swallow forty-eight of them. Then what?"

He wished he never would've brought this up. He could talk to Julio or Ricardo or literally anyone else about Triple C's for a short period of time and have no repercussions, but with Autumn and all the judgment and repulsion radiating off her face, talking about the Charlie high only made him want to take the pills right now.

"Then I wait," he said. "It takes about an hour for them to kick in. I kinda have a weak stomach, so I'll usually throw them up around that time and then—"

"Or maybe it's because you took so many pills," she almost snapped.

Drake went silent. He didn't think counselors were supposed to talk to their patients like this. He could understand that she didn't know what Triple C's were and yeah, eight sounds like a big number compared to how many you'd have to take to get high off other pills and forty-eight was pretty fucking insane. However, shouldn't she be better at hiding her disgust? She shouldn't even be expressing her surprise because it only shows how little her knowledge is on that specific subject and if she is unfamiliar, that's okay. He didn't mind answering her questions, but every time he gave her new information, she acted like he'd just taken a dump on her mom's head or something.

"Well, yeah," he replied. Obviously he was vomiting because he was taking so many. Sure, he was dumb, but he wasn't that dumb.

"What happens after you throw up?"

He could feel his hot cheeks and his feverish face. He was salivating inside of his mouth and it tasted like the awful sugar coating on the pills, which made him nauseous. His throat was closing up like he was swallowing them down and he was feeling each one as his muscles forced them down his esophagus. Everything was so vivid and real that he threw up a bit in his mouth, then he swallowed it back down. His fingers were trembling and his teeth were chattering and his legs were bouncing.

"I don't really wanna talk about this anymore," he said.

"What happened just now?" The counselor noticed his sudden change.

"Can we talk about something else?"

Without taking her eyes off of him, she scribbled some more notes. He hunched over in his chair and restlessly rubbed his fingers through his hair. He was clearly struggling, so she granted his request.

"Why don't we discuss your childhood? Can you tell me about your family?"

Suddenly, Drake stood and rushed over to the door, where he'd spotted a miniature trash can. He leaned over and vomit spewed from his lips. If he had taken Triple C's, this would be where his high kicked in. Unfortunately, he hadn't taken any pills and he was puking for no beneficial reason. Autumn stood and left the room. When she returned, Drake was seated again. He leaned forwards like before and had his head resting on his hands as if he felt weak, but he was no longer fidgeting or trembling. He just looked calm and exhausted.

"Here." The woman placed a small plastic cup of water and a peppermint in front of him, then took her seat again. "How are you feeling?" she asked, but there was no response. "Drake? Could you answer my question?"

For a moment, he didn't move, but finally, he straightened and picked up the water whilst avoiding her eyes. "I'm okay," he said. "I'm sorry about that."

"That's okay," said Autumn. "I brought you a peppermint to get rid of the bad taste and maybe it'll help settle your stomach."

"Thank you." He picked it open and hung his head low as he unwrapped it.

"Unfortunately, Drake, it looks like we're a bit short on time."

He didn't care. He was ready to go home. He was so embarrassed and upset and he just needed to get the car back home before he took it to Ingles to get Triple C's.

"I would like to discuss a treatment plan. After what you told me today, I think it's best for you to come in once a week."

"Okay," he whispered weakly. He didn't give a fuck about anything she was saying at this point. He just wanted to leave.

"I would like to dig deeper into your drug use. I feel like that could be fueling the fire for your depression. You're not supposed to stop taking antidepressants cold turkey unless it's okay'ed by a doctor. If you do, you can end up in a state way worse than what you started in. I think that could have a lot to do with what's going on with you and I also think that your body is still flushing out the chemicals from the Triple C's. Your brain changed while you took those pills and now it's having trouble producing the dopamine and the serotonin on its own."

"That's not it," Drake argued desperately. He finally met her eyes. "I didn't start suddenly getting depressed within the past two weeks like your stupid tests are saying. I have felt like this everyday for years."

"I understand that, Drake, but when you decided to start abusing drugs, your brain chemistry changed and the Triple C's have a lot bigger affect than you're giving them credit for. You said you've relapsed several times over the years. You're stuck in a pattern. You get clean, then things become unbearable and you relapse again. What do you think would happen if you held off on using? What if the hardest part is that last hump you need to get over before your brain finally begins to heal itself?"

He didn't have the energy to argue. She was so stuck on the drug abuse that she couldn't see anything else...except maybe his out-of-the-blue diagnosis of ADD. To her, his depression was only moderate. She couldn't help him. Her job was to help people and she couldn't help him. She was a licensed professional. If she couldn't do it, then who could?

"Is that making sense, Drake?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, lowering his eyes again.

It was like being back at his father's the night he was almost killed. Just like back then, he was begging for help, but he wasn't getting it.

"Good," she said. "I would also like to dive into your childhood next week since we didn't get the chance to discuss that today."

An entire history of violent rape and physical torture and Drake didn't get the chance to even mention it.

"As I learn more about you over the next few weeks, we can begin to really work on tackling these issues," the counselor said. "Now I'm looking at my calendar. Do you have a specific day next week that you would like to meet?"

He shook his head absently. He was just trying to hold it together.

"What about Friday morning? Is that good for you?"

He nodded even though he knew he had a rehearsal that day. He wasn't fucking coming back here, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings by saying that. He'd have Ricardo call for him later and cancel the appointment.

"Okay, let's say...eight o'clock. How's that?"

"Okay."

"Would you like to write that down?"

"I'll remember it," Drake said.

"I would like you to write that down," she said in a more strict tone. "Your phone would be a good place. That way, you won't lose it."

The young man pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed the date and time in his notes. He showed her he did it when she asked and he felt like she was treating him like a child — like when your teacher checks your agenda at the end of the day to make sure you wrote down the homework like she said.

"One last thing," Mrs. Sobik said. "I give out homework to my patients each week. I think it's important for you to be sure you're working on yourself outside of this room as well. I have two things I would like for you to do. Can you write these down?"

Frustrated, he pulled his phone out again.

"First, I would like you to go to an NA meeting. Just see what it's like and maybe it'll feel right for you. I have a list for you of places you can check into." She went over to her filing cabinet and came back with another sheet. It had the names of places, addresses, phone numbers and the day of the week and time for each meeting. "Second, I would like for you to get a notebook and write down each time you feel like you want to use drugs. Make sure you write down what you may have been doing or thinking or seeing or feeling beforehand. When we go over it next week, maybe we'll see a pattern and figure out what triggers these cravings. Sound good?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, great. I think we're done here."

"What about the panic attacks?" he asked.

"It's all in your head, Drake," she said. "Try meditating. It works. You just have to..."

Her voice started to fade out and he felt his heart drop. Meditation?! That was her big fucking advice?! He could hardly pay attention to all the other bullshit. She said something about a diet and exercise and sleep and burning some type of herb or plant or whatever. This entire fucking thing was a fucking waste.

"Anymore questions?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, let me show you out. Don't forget your paper."

Drake picked up the list of NA meetings and followed her down the hall and back into the main lobby. Before he even made it outside, he had tears falling down his face. He quickly walked to the car and got inside. One he closed the door, he broke.

It's fucking hopeless! No one can fix me! I'm going to be like this forever!

All he wanted was to stop by the store and get those Triple C's and forget that this whole thing had ever even happened. He so badly wanted to numb himself from the constant pain and stress, if only for a few hours, but he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. He made a fucking promise. When Julio was upset about Hannah hating him, he sat outside a bar for hours, but did he drink? No. He took his depressed ass home and talked to Drake about it. That's how they dealt with shit now. No more running off and destroying themselves. Julio had set an example and if Drake went out and got fucked up, what kind of example was he setting? He wasn't just looking out for his own sobriety anymore. Julio depended on him, too. They depended on each other.

Therefore, instead of getting Triple C's, Drake picked up his phone and called Julio.

"Yo, what up? You done?"

He was crying so hard that he couldn't even speak.

Julio's voice suddenly became more serious and he expressed concern. "Drake? Hey, what's wrong?"

When Drake opened the front door, Julio was right there waiting for him. His friend immediately pulled him into a hug. "Hey," Julio said softly, rubbing the boy's back. "I'm sorry it didn't go well."

"It's okay," he choked out. A couple sobs left him before he was able to get ahold of himself, then he sniffled.

"Fuck that counselor, okay? She doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about. I think you've been doing an amazing fucking job getting control of your addiction. I don't care what she said. I'm fucking proud of you, alright?"

Drake nodded as he held on tighter. God, Julio was the best fucking friend he could ever ask for.

"We'll figure this out — me and you," the young man said. "You're not alone in this," Julio promised.

And Drake believed him.

"They're really good," Dee said as the song ended.

Julio spoke into the microphone so that Drake could take a drink of water. The audience screamed and cheered after every few sentences. Despite trying to be discreet as not to attract the old crowd, word got out that they were performing again and they saw a lot of familiar faces in the audience. Well, Julio did. Drake couldn't remember shit from their past performances. However, everyone was enjoying the music and no one's tossed a box of Triple C's up on stage yet, so all in all, it was going well.

"They really are," Ricardo agreed with pride in his voice.

Had the shit with Mr. Parker and drugs not been going on and if Drake would've showed up to that performance the talent scout came to that Stevie never forgave him for missing, then things probably would've been different. They wouldn't be standing here. They'd be in front of a gigantic crowd that went as far back as they could see. Ricky was sure of it. Still, this was pretty fucking great, too.

The two boys shared a look and Drake nodded his head as if to say he was ready. Julio nodded back and Drake gripped the microphone.

Drake: I see you when you're down and depressed, just a mess
I see you when you cry, when you're shy, when you wanna die
I see you when you smile, it takes a while, 'least you're here
I see you, yes, I see you
I'm alone with you, you're alone with me

Julio: I see you when you hide, and when you lie it's no surprise
I see you when you run from the light within your eyes
I see you when you think that I don't notice all those scars
I see you, yes, I see you

Back in the old days, Julio didn't do much singing. He just did backup and then he took over if Drake got too fucked up to keep going. He had a beautiful voice, though, and it made his brother smile when he heard it.

Dee stood behind him and wrapped his arms around him and they both swayed to the soft melody. Julio was looking directly at Drake like he was singing only to him.

Julio: I'm alone with you, you're alone with me
What a mess you've made of everything
I'm alone with you, you're alone with me
And I'm hoping that you will see yourself

Both: Like I see you
Yes, I see you
I see you
Yes, I see you
Julio: I'm alone with you, you're alone with me

The two had come a long way together and they went through a lot of bullshit together, but they overcame that. No matter what, they had each others' backs. Even when the counselor didn't understand or when Hannah didn't understand, Julio understood and Drake understood.

Drake: I see you when you chase all the dreams inside your head
I see you when you laugh and when you love 'til the bitter end
Julio: I see you
Drake: In the dark, at the dawn of something new
I see you, yes, I see you
I'm alone with you, you're alone with me
And I'm hoping that you will see yourself

Both: Like I see you
Yes, I see you
I see you
Yes, I see you

Again, Ricardo saw his two roommates look at each other like no one else was there. He couldn't even begin to express how proud he was of them and how happy he was with Julio, Drake and Dee. Everyone was getting along. Everyone was trying hard and everyone was offering help. He hoped things would stay like this forever.

As they sang their lines, everyone in that audience could tell what they were saying and who they were saying them to. Their realness only made the crowd love them more. No one knew about Julio's alcoholism, but everyone knew all of Drake's shit. They knew about the abuse. They knew about the drugs. Even though the song wasn't for them, they felt like they were apart of it, too.

Drake: Even when you cry and even when you're shy
You mean everything to me
Julio: Even when you lie and even when you're high
You mean everything to me

Julio had switched up a word or two to specifically reference Drake's darker, drugged-out moments. It was unplanned and when the young man heard it, it touched his heart. Being the sensitive guy he was, he started weeping. He had never felt so loved before. He felt like everything would be okay...and if it wasn't, that was okay, too, because he and Julio were finally okay again and that was enough.

Drake: I see you
Julio: (I see you, I see you, I see you)
Drake: Yes, I see you
Julio: (I see you, I see you, I see you)
Drake: I see you
Julio: Even when you cry and even when you're shy
Drake: Yes, I see you
Julio: (I see you, I see you, I see you)

Drake: I'm alone with you, you're alone with me
And I'm hoping that you will see yourself

He sniffled and the crowd went wild. Even Ricardo and Dee yelled out. Drake felt a touch on his shoulder and turned to see Julio standing next to him. His friend suddenly pulled him into a tight embrace and he hugged back. This made his crying pick up.

"I love you," Julio said into his ear.

"I love you." He felt his friend rub his back as a way of offering him comfort. "You have no fucking idea how fucking thankful I am. You saved my fucking life."

It wasn't just Ricardo who put in work. Julio did a lot as well. Without him, Drake wouldn't have made it to where he was now. Either he'd be stumbling back and forth between Tad's and the truck stop, too strung out to remember his own name, or he'd be dead. Because of Julio, he was able to stand here and do something he loved with the people he loved.

"You saved mine," Julio said back.

He was right. Had Drake not showed up that day, right at that exact time, Julio would've choked on his own vomit and died. Being reminded of this made him remember how fragile life was and how it wasn't permanent. He knew that about himself, but he didn't often think of his loved ones dying because he always expected to die first.

Dee noticed that his boyfriend was shedding a few tears as well, so he squeezed him tighter and kissed his shoulder.

When Drake and Julio finally parted, Drake kept his head low. He couldn't fucking believe he was really out here crying in front of all these people.

"You okay?" Julio asked and his friend just barely heard him over the crowd.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Julio went back over to his mic and Drake turned back to his. This was the part where he was supposed to say something. What was he supposed to say after that? He was still wiping his eyes and sniffling. Normally, he would be embarrassed about this kind of thing, but not tonight. Not with Julio standing by his side and Ricardo standing in the crowd.

Finally, he broke his silence after another sniffled. "Shit."

The audience laughed, which made him chuckle, too.

He tried to give his eyes one last wipe, but more tears came, blurring his vision. "Fuck! Okay, gimme a second."

There was more laughter as he stepped back from the mic, but it was a good laughter. Drake used his entire shirt sleeve to wipe away the tears that were still falling.

Julio spoke up. "Alright, while Drake's over there having a cry-fest for one..."

More laughter. It got even louder when his friend replied by mouthing the words "Fuck you."

Julio smiled. "Anytime, buddy."

Dee heard Ricky chuckle through his tears.

"For real, though," Julio continued. "You guys all know about my friend's struggles with drug addiction. I always tried to be there for him, but I never understood him or why he did the things he did. You can't even begin to imagine the kinds of places it led him and how much it affected our friendship. Addiction doesn't just hurt the addict. Like they say, it's a family disease. It fucked with me. It fucked with my brother Ricardo." He pointed towards the man, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights as half the room looked at him, too. "Bruh, are you crying, too? Y'all some softies."

Ricky flipped him the bird and everyone laughed.

"I'm telling Mamá," the younger boy said and he received more laughter. "Anyway," Julio said, "I didn't know how to help Drake and honestly, I started hating him. I hated him for a long time and then I developed my own addiction issues. I became an alcoholic...and then this fucker decided that was the right time to get clean, so he did that...and then he came back for me." He turned his eyes to Drake, who looked stunned and confused and appreciative all at the same time. "He carried the weight of both of our addictions until I was strong enough to do it myself. He's been clean for three weeks—"

Everyone cheered, but Ricardo hollered the loudest. Drake couldn't even begin to comprehend what was happening. Months ago, he stood on this very stage and they all wanted to see him destroy himself. Now they were proud of his strength. His dad had always called him weak and he knew now, without a doubt, that that wasn't true.

Julio paused until the noise level went down. "He's been clean for three weeks," he repeated, "and I've been sober for seventeen days, three hours, fourteen minutes and fifty-one seconds."

More cheers and more laughter erupted.

"None of that would've been possible without him." He looked at Drake again. "So I just needed you to know that. No matter what anyone's ever said to you — no matter what I've said to you — you matter. You deserve to be here just as much as anyone else. I know I'm only one person, but if you can't take my word for it, there's an entire room full of people here that agrees with me."

Just to prove it, the crowd erupted into the loudest roar of the night. All Drake could do was weep.

"I know it took a long time, but I get it now," Julio said, meeting his eyes. "I see you."

They heard claps and cheers and aww's. This actually went on for quite a while because Drake was too stunned to respond. Finally, he stepped back up to the microphone and everyone leaned closer with anticipation to see what he had to say.

"You're cheesy as hell, I swear to God!"

Julio picked up his water bottle and flung it at his friend, who yelped when it hit his ribs. "Don't make me kick your ass in front of all these people. You know I fucking will."

This, too, got cheers of encouragement, which made the two boys laugh.

Dee was the first to yell out for an encore and it quickly caught on. "ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE!"

The performers looked at one another, then shrugged.

"Fuck it," Drake said, to which the room responded with cheers.

Both took their places. Drake wiped his eyes and sniffled one last time. He and Julio locked eyes and gave each other a confirmation nod when they were ready, then the boy opened his mouth to sing.

Drake: I see you when you're down and depressed, just a mess
I see you when you cry, when you're shy, when you wanna die
I see you when you smile, it takes a while, 'least you're here
I see you, yes, I see you
I'm alone with you, you're alone with me

Julio: I see you when you're high, and when you lie it's no surprise
I see you when you run from the light within your eyes
I see you when you think that I don't notice all those scars
I see you, yes, I see you

I'm alone with you, you're alone with me
What a mess you've made of everything
I'm alone with you, you're alone with me
And I'm hoping that you will see yourself

Both: Like I see you
Yes, I see you
I see you
Yes, I see you

Author's Note: Fuck, you guys! It's been forever! Life's been so hectic lately, but I finally pushed this out. This thing took me ten or eleven hours to edit for some reason. Geez. I don't ever remember previous chapters taking all day like this. I've literally been sitting in this chair forever, but finally this thing is ready to go.

I didn't get any reviews last chapter, which sucks because that was my Julio chapter I was super stoked for. I would super appreciate if you took the time to drop a review and let me know what you think of everything so far or even just to tell me you're still here and reading. This chapter was so long and there was so much happening, I feel like, so lemme know what you think, please. Also, what do you guys think of the "Previously On Sorry, Charlie" thing?

Also, hope you guys had happy holidays. I was gonna ask everyone how it went and if they received any cool gifts, but that probably feelings like forever ago now. At least, it does for me.

Songs Used In The Chapter For Anyone Who Cares:

-Green Day: Longview — (Drake's masturbation scene [You're welcome for making that awkward af.])
-Call Me Karizma: Serotonin — (Drake plays guitar before Ricardo interrupts)
-Missio: Middle Fingers — (Julio shows Drake a song)
-D12: Purple Pills — (kitchen rap)
-2Pac: Hail Mary — (kitchen rap part 2 after Ricardo apologizes)
-Missio: I See You — (band performance at Flux)

Again, please review. I've put a lot of time and work into this series and into this chapter alone and I'd greatly appreciate the encouragement or criticism. Okay, that's it for now. CCC ya! (P.S. I hope you guys are understanding that those three C's in my "see ya" goodbyes reference Triple C's because I thought that was clever as fuck).