triggers for referenced drug use
It's cold outside. Teachers and students alike bundle up in coats, hats and scarves just to move buildings before the start of the next lesson. Cheeks are flushed pink, and lips are chapped, and someone is always sniffing.
The end of term is so close you can practically reach out and grab it, but there's still a week to go, and that week is always the toughest.
It's getting to that point in the term when teachers don't even bother to pretend to control their classes. Instead, they stick an "educational" film up on the board, lean back in their chairs and either read the very same magazines they confiscate from pupils, or desperately try to catch up on some much-needed rest.
The only silver lining is that at the end of that incredibly trying week, Percy Jackson is hosting one of his famous Christmas parties.
Whispers of the upcoming party fly round school. Students gather in the hallways, gossiping in small groups. The bathrooms are packed, rumours shooting from stall to stall.
Percy himself sits in each of his classes, barely able to concentrate, so distracted by excitement. He invited all of his friends, but now, somehow, it seems that half the school's also been invited. The other half are bitter and disappointed, but his popularity is a magnet. They catch him in the hallways, grabbing his arm and pouting, eyes wide with desperation. He can't help but nod, add them to the ever-growing group chat and hurry off to the lesson that he's probably already late to.
Everything is going swimmingly, albeit slowly.
And then Percy gets the text.
He's in History, so he's almost glad that his phone pings aggressively loudly. Immediately, the class swings their heads to stare at him as one, grateful for any distraction.
"Mr. Jackson," their teacher, Mr Thomas, frowns, his pen still poised above the whiteboard. "Turn that off, please."
Percy fumbles in his bag with slippery fingers, searching for his phone. He finally tugs it free from the tangle of headphone wires, and fiddles with the silencing button. Disappointed, the class reluctantly turns back to face the teacher, diligently scribbling down what he has written in his almost unintelligible scrawl. Percy glances at the text briefly, assured that his phone won't make any more unexpected noises, and has to stifle a gasp.
It's just an emoji; the green apple. It's the one they always use.
Percy swiftly shoves his hand into the air, waving it in an attempt to catch Mr. Thomas' attention. He knows that a minute wasted here is a minute wasted there, when it might actually matter. Fortunately, the teacher turns around after about half a minute, and says tiredly, "yes, Mr. Jackson? Something to add to the discussion?"
"Can I go to the toilet please, sir?" Percy asks, trying to disguise his grin.
Mr. Thomas sighs. "What a stimulating perspective you take. If you must, then." He waves his hand dismissively, and Percy shoots up, discreetly stuffing his phone in his blazer pocket. He rushes down the corridor, down the stairs and bursts into the sports hall. He hurries into the toilets, and then calls, "Jason?"
Silence. And then a loud cackle echoes around the room.
"Percy?" someone yells. "Issat you?"
Percy grits his teeth, pushing a hand through his messy curls. "Yeah, Jace, it's me." He takes a step further into the room.
Someone stumbles out of the furthest bathroom stall, tripping on their own feet. Percy's heart hammers as it always does, but then it settles when he realises that the person is definitely Jason, as it always does.
"You doing okay, buddy?" he says, moving closer to his friend.
Jason's close-cropped blonde hair is unusually messy, ruffled up at the front, and his lip is bleeding.
"Not really," he grins, sinking down onto the floor by the sinks.
"Right," Percy says, coming to a stop just by him. "Can I help? I mean, you texted me."
"Did I?" another manic laughs bubbles out of the blonde boy.
Percy momentarily closes his eyes. It must be bad if Jason can't remember the message he sent a few minutes ago.
"Yes, you did. How about you stand up?" Percy says, trying to keep his temper under control.
Jason follows his instruction, standing up far too quickly and cracking his elbow against the basin. He shrieks in pain, cradling his arm as he whimpers. His eyes are far too large, and a much darker blue than they usually are.
"Take it easy, Jace," Percy grabs onto Jason's upper arm to steady him. Jason is still softly crying out, pouting. "When was it?"
Jason shrugs, blinking slowly. "I dunno. Maybe 20 minutes ago?"
Percy nods. Hopefully the worst of it will have passed, but you never know. They stand in silence for a moment, Jason's arms still clasped in Percy's grip.
"'M tired," the blonde slurs, falling onto Percy's chest.
"Try to stay awake, bud. How about we get you to the nurses?" Percy suggests. Occasionally, if the hit has already been and gone, the nurses won't suspect a thing and clean up whatever injury Jason's sporting before sending him back to class with a lollipop.
"Okay," Jason says sluggishly, still leaning against his friend. Percy has to support him as he awkwardly half-drags himself over to the door.
They're halfway to the nurses when the bell rings, shrilly splitting the quiet.
And now Percy begins to panic. He hadn't realised when he'd left History that it was so close to lunchtime. Before he can think of a plan, the classroom doors are being thrown open and swarms of students are pouring into the corridors. There's no empty room to dart into, and Jason's still practically a deadweight, so Percy is forced to keep moving, shoving his way through the crowds.
They're just a few doors down from the nurses when Jason suddenly turns as white as a sheet and mumbles, "'M going to be sick," before leaning forward and doing just that.
Percy manages to leap out of the firing zone just in time, but a couple of other girls aren't so lucky. They scream in disgust as they hop from foot to foot, trying to rid their fluffy boots of the vomit. Jason retches and throws up again, this time hitting Percy.
The corridor is deadly silent now, and everyone is watching.
They watch as Percy Jackson, the king of the school, hauls Jason Grace, the resident drug addict, into the nurses' office.
The next few days are hell for Jason, but they're worse for Percy.
Infinitely worse.
The teachers had already given up on Jason. They'd accepted that he would show up to class only when he felt like it, if ever. They'd accepted that his homework, when it was actually done, would be sloppy and only half-done. They treated him like a lost cause (which everyone but Percy believed).
But Percy had previously been the most popular guy at school. He was the captain of both the swim and hockey teams, he was with Annabeth Chase, the literal smartest girl to exist and he was adored by teachers and students alike. He was just a lovely person, to be honest. Ask anyone and they'll say the same thing. Well, they would have said the same thing.
However, after he was identified as the one who'd been with Jason when he'd puked across the corridor, the groups of chattering students desperate to be his friends suddenly disappeared.
Basically every student hated Jason. He would stumble into their lessons, late, smelling awful, beg to borrow pens, never give them back, and burst into ugly sobs while they were trying to concentrate. He was a nuisance, the class clown that no one ever laughed with, or at.
So, by association, when Percy was discovered with Jason, they hated him too.
It's the Friday before the party.
"I don't understand," Drew hisses, slamming her locker door shut. "Why would he be friends with Jason?"
Although a few days have passed since Jason threw up on her boots, her heart still blazes.
"I don't know," Mitchell says meekly, attempting to zip up his bulging backpack. They're in the History corridor, heading upstairs to their Geography lesson.
"It's just so stupid!" Drew exclaims. Gossiping is her favourite thing to do, and having such an important matter to discuss does patch her heart up a little bit, even though she had to chuck her boots away. She accidentally knocks into the shoulder of a girl striding through the corridor in the opposite direction. The girls stumbles a little, catching herself before she face plants. Shame. Drew would've liked to see that.
The girl whips around to glare at Drew, her grey eyes narrowed.
"Annabeth!" Drew smirks. "Sorry, didn't see you there."
Annabeth Chase adjusts her backpack on her shoulder, ruffling up her blonde curls. A spike of jealousy forces Drew to fight the urge to scowl as Annabeth's hair falls in a new parting and still manages to look perfect. She wishes her own hair would do that, but it's long and straight as a ruler, and if she hasn't styled it, sits like a helmet.
"How are you?" Drew tilts her head to one side and plasters another half-smile onto her face.
Annabeth is Percy's girlfriend (no, Drew also doesn't have any idea how she managed to score him), and so, by association, is also suffering from the hit after Vomgate, as it's being referred to. She's finally fallen from her high-and-mighty position that she had occupied since she was about 6 (yes, unfortunately Drew has known her since then). None of the other nerds that Annabeth hangs around like Jason. In fact, they might be some of the ones who detest him the most. Her other friends, Hazel and Piper or whatever, seem indifferent about Jason, but lean more towards negative feelings for him than positive. Something about Piper and Jason dating and then breaking up? Drew likes to stay caught up on all the going's on, but she just can't quite remember what had happened between the two.
"Fine," Annabeth shoots back. "And you?"
"Perfectly peachy," Drew quips, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She knows it looks good that way.
"Great," Annabeth frowns, then moves to walk away. Drew steps into her path and hears Mitchell exhale nervously.
"How's Percy?" she asks, one perfectly made-up eyebrow arched.
Annabeth stares at her for a moment longer, gunmetal eyes steely. "He's fine. I'm going to be late."
And she slips away. God, Drew really does like annoying that girl.
"Um, we're also going to be late if we don't-"
"Shut up, Mitchell," Drew snarls, and starts to sashay down the corridor. Her friend scampers to keep up.
It's Saturday evening.
The night of the party.
Percy's eyes are glued to his phone. He's waiting for messages to ping in. He's waiting for people to apologise for being late. He's waiting for someone to explain why they couldn't make it.
He scrubs at the tears threatening to drip down his cheeks.
Stupid Jason.
Why was he still friends with that waste-of-space? He should've dropped him as soon as he started to become a burden.
It was too late now.
Percy had pretended to ignore the suspicious stares and glances of disgust he'd been getting the past few days. He'd tried his best to keep acting normal, goofing around with Leo, slicing through the water like a bird attacking its prey at swim practise, diligently slaving away at his homework in the evenings.
But he'd grappled with the urge to cry at all hours of the day.
How could kids be so mean?
How could he have gone from the top of the food chain to the very bottom?
And just because of Jason.
His blood boiled.
He and Jason had been best of friends when they were younger, always hanging round each other's houses. They played video games together, splashed each other with paint and mud, and rode their bikes through the neighbourhood.
But when they got older, things started to go wrong for Jason. His parents split up and his mum's way of coping with the lonely evenings was to turn to the bottle. Days turned into weeks which turned into months. Jason heard nothing from his father, and his older sister, Thalia, immersed herself in school and her band. No one was there for him, except Percy.
So Jason had used drugs as his crutch.
Percy had no idea where he got them from. Frankly, he doesn't want to know who would be awful enough to sell toxic substances to a teenager, but he does know that Jason always manages to get his hands on something. He doesn't know what, but it's always, always something.
It's Jason's form of escape, something that Percy had never even dreamed of needing for himself, his life was so secure.
Instead, he was the one who would get Jason up for school, make sure he was in the lunch hall at the right time, check he'd done his homework. Their friendship became extremely one sided, but Percy never tired of carrying the weight.
It has never even occurred to him that he could just drop that weight.
And now, his school life is destroyed.
Maybe he is being a bit melodramatic, but some people had actively avoided him in the corridors. They threw him dirty looks or mimed throwing up behind his back. Or in front of his face, it didn't matter.
I mean, who knew kids could hate so hard?
Percy's eyes are glued to his phone.
He's waiting.
No one shows up.
Not for over 3 hours.
Percy sits at his kitchen table for over 3 hours, phone clutched in his sweaty hands. His mum pops her head round the door a couple of times, checking in with him. For reasons unknown, Percy lies each time she asks where everyone was.
"Lee's been roped into babysitting Kayla and Austin."
"Charlie was forced into helping Harley out with some woodwork project or something."
"Silena's grandma's cats needed feeding, she forgot to let me know."
Sally nods at each excuse, but the crinkling of her eyes makes it obvious that she sees through her son's blatant lies. She doesn't say anything though, for better or worse.
A knock comes just when Percy's about to get up and retreat to his room.
He bounces out of the chair and leaps to the door. He throws it open, jovially announcing, "no need to apologise!" and-
Jason blinks back at him, blue eyes vast in his pale, crinkled face.
"Oh," Percy says, the air deflating out of him like a balloon.
"I'm sorry," Jason croaks, blonde hair tangled.
Percy gapes like a goldfish. And, much like a goldfish, his memory has gone completely blank. He can't think of anything to say.
"I'm sorry," Jason repeats, raking a hand through his hair, making it messier than before.
Percy's mouth still opens and closes uselessly.
Then the anger hits.
"Sorry?" he spits. "You're sorry?"
Jason takes a step back. "What else am I supposed to be?" he says sluggishly.
"Sorry feels like a bit of a weak excuse, Jason!" Percy barks.
Jason only shrugs, his eyes staring off into the middle distance. He looks vaguely nauseated, but also like he's in a trance, like he's not really here. That makes Percy angrier.
"People don't like me anymore, Jason," Percy rages, fists clenched and shaking. "All because of you! You're a screwup, so, by association, I'm a screwup!"
"What?" Jason slurs. "People don't like you? I thought it was me they didn't like."
Percy groans in frustration. He's sure Jason isn't wilfully understanding, but then again, whatever he's taken might have impacted him in some serious ways.
"Yeah, well-" Percy breaks off before he says something he regrets. "You know what? Forget it." And then it comes rushing out. "Just leave me alone, okay? I don't need you."
Jason takes another step backwards, eyes widening even further, if that's even possible.
"Y-you don't need me?" he stammers.
Percy shakes his head, eyes flashing. "No," he says harshly.
Jason swallows. "You don't need me," he says thickly. "But I need you."
And Percy is startled. He's never heard such a poignant comment come from his friend; Jason's either high or exhausted, never in the right mindset to actually do any proper thinking.
"S-sorry?" he manages to choke out.
"I thought sorry was a weak excuse?" Jason responds, and Percy's unsure whether he's being sarcastic or genuine. His eyes are too large still for it to have been a witty joke, but his mouth is curling into a grin.
"You need me?" Percy echoes, still shocked.
Jason bobs his head, biting the inside of his cheek. The scar on his lip ripples. Percy struggles to remember how he got it for a moment before it comes back to him; apparently toddler Jason had gotten hungry one morning and decided that a stapler was an appropriate snack. Percy remembers laughing so hard he snorted soda out of his nose when he heard that story. He remembers how animated Jason's face looked, how engaged and innocent he appeared. He hasn't looked like that for a while.
Percy shakes the memory from his head.
"Yeah," Jason admits, ducking his head now and scuffing his shoe against the front step. But he doesn't say anything more, which enrages Percy.
He stares at his friend, who he would once have risked everything for. They'd done everything together and had wanted to carry on doing the same.
Percy takes a deep breath. Jason is dragging him down, a deadweight that he'd be better off without.
He slams the door in Jason's face and pretends not to hear the noisy sobs that immediately break out.
