Eight

The following week I found myself at Dewees house, and this time not because I had been ordered to go round there by Ian. No, this time I was there by choice. Mainly due to my strong need to make sure he was still holding up okay. I don't really know why I cared so much for him when he'd gotten me in so much trouble. I guess it was because I couldn't avoid seeing the similarities between us - both outcasts, both on a bit of a downward spiral and both in desperate need of saving from the mess we'd created. Maybe I subconsciously thought that if I helped him, maybe someone would help me too. Good karma, perhaps. 

This worry of mine was quickly proved to be an accurate one when he opened the door looking like complete shit. And not in a couldn't-be-bothered-to-shower way, but a it's-far-past-a-little-joint stage.

"Frank?" He blinked at the bright light that shone through his doorway, only slightly blocked by my own shadow (it wasn't exactly the tallest one, after all) "Ian hasn't dropped anything by.."

"I know" I stepped inside, to which he gratefully shut the door behind me, all the curtains still closed and only a few lights on here and there. "I didn't come to pick anything up. I came to see you."

"Oh" He smiled weakly at that, obviously not thinking I would've stuck to my word to come check on him, but happily surprised that I had "did you want a drink or something?"

"Sure" I shrugged, following him into the kitchen "water's fine." He seemed surprised at my healthy choice, but decided not to question it further. Instead he just handed me a glass as I inspected his bleak expression and the tiny shake to his grip.

"I know what you're thinking" he sighed "and honestly, i'm fine."

"No you're not" I retorted "i'm not as stupid as you may think, you know. I can see this isn't just weed you're smoking anymore Dewees. What are you on now? Meth? Cocaine? Heroin?"

"If you've just come to pester me about my bad habits-" his immediately defensive tone of voice told me all I needed to know. He desperately needed my help, wether he agreed or not. 

"I've come here because I give a damn about you and I don't want to see you destroyed by an addiction. I want to help you Dewees, in whatever way I can. Because let's face it, you don't seem like you're beating this alone do you?"

That shut him up for a moment.

When he next spoke, it was with a calmer tone of voice. "I know" was his initial sigh "Believe me I know right now more than anything how stupid it is. This comedown's one of the worst i've had."

"Is there anything you want me to get you?"

"No" He shook his head. "Could you stay a little bit though? Just watch some TV or listen to some music or something, I don't really care. I just need the company, you know?"

I smiled sadly, knowing that perhaps what he needed from me may not be much in the long run, but would mean the world to him right now.

"Of course" I leaned away from the kitchen counter "come on, let's go be boring together."

He followed me into the living room and watched as I sat down in front of the TV, rooting through his various DVDs and games. He didn't say much, something that would have been a novelty had we not been in that current situation, but instead sat down quietly on the sofa and waited.

"Here we go" he pulled out his collection of Die Hard films "got a favourite?"

"The second one" I stated automatically, and he grinned, shoving it into the player.

"Me too" was all he said, before coming to join me on the sofa. He grimaced at the bright screen throughout the adverts, but by the time the actual film started his eyes seemed to have adjusted.

***

I must have dozed off during the film, as next thing I knew I was waking up to a blank screen and a lack of Dewees in the room. The outside light told me it was gone nightfall, telling me that the film had finished quite some time ago, yet he hadn't woken me up.

I got up gradually and checked the kitchen before heading upstairs.

"Dewees?" I called out "Where are you?"

My question was met by silence, but I guess I would've been naive to expect anything more. Eyes fixed on the bedroom door, I made my way down the corridor. I never should've fallen asleep like that and I left him to his own devices. I knew better and yet i'd let my lazy ways dictate me.

When I pushed open the door, I was met by the sight of him sitting on the floor, curtains closed in front of him, just staring ahead. At first I wasn't sure quite what at, but when I stepped further into the room I saw he was looking at a book. Or rather, the lines of cocaine on top of it.

"Dewees" I whispered softly, and when that didn't work "James?"

"Nobody calls me that anymore" Was the whisper that left his mouth, his eyes still fixated on the powder "I mean, my parents used to, but then..."

"Sorry" I sat down cross-legged on the floor, about half a meter away "What happened? If you don't mind me asking."

"They disowned me when they found out about this" he gestured to the drugs "who could blame them though, right?"

"Listen Dewees, a lot of parents are fucked up. And when you get hurt by the people that are supposed to protect you, it fucks you up. They never should have given up on you like that, but if you carry on like this then you're letting them win."

"You think I want to carry on like this?" He finally turned to look at me "You think I like what this is doing to me?"

"Of course not, I mean... Look" I reached out and pulled the book towards me, or more importantly away from him, inspecting the cocaine as I did so. "Where the hell did you even get this from? Are you buying it from Ian now?"

He not only went quiet then, but he froze up a little too. I guess that was the point where I put two and two together.

"Please don't tell me this is from their stash" I was back to speaking in a whisper now, but this time out of sheer fear. It was almost as if I was afraid the walls had ears, because if I was right here then things were worse than I could have ever imagined. 

"It was just sitting there Frank. Right under the stairs" he spoke slowly, like it caused him pain just to say it aloud. "At first it was just me taking small bits, you know? Little amounts that would go unnoticed in the deals, stuff I could repay."

"Just tell me how much you've snorted away" I sighed, holding my head in my heads in sheer defeat. "How much are we talking here Dewees?"

"I lost track" he mumbled "bags of it by this point. I just couldn't stop, I hate to think how much money I owe him now..."

I wanted to punch something. Or just scream. Anything to vent my frustrations about how my life was once again fucking me over. It's weird, because I always used to be the one messing up, but now I seemed to be being dragged into other people's mess more than my own, and this loss of control was freaking me out. At least before, I'd chosen to fuck up, but now it seemed like a process I couldn't stop; almost like a snowball effect. 

"How the fuck are we going to fix this?" I all but groaned.

"We?" he met my eyes at that. 

"Well in case you haven't noticed, we seem to be in this thing together" I snapped "and if Ian finds out about what you've done, he'll just take it out on me too. He knows I care about you."

"No, no I won't let you take the fall for this" he shook his head rapidly and began to pull himself to his feet. Although he was still a bit out of it, it seemed the threat of Ian had pushed him to pull himself together, even if only momentarily, for my sake. "I can fix this."

I just sighed up at him. "And how do you plan to do that? Are you just going to magic up a few grams of cocaine? What happens when I'm suppose to deal out goods you've already finished? What do I tell Ian then?" I could feel the anger boiling inside of me and there was little I could do to stop it. 

"I won't let it get to that stage" he continued to try in his attempt to convince me this could somehow be okay "I'll tell him myself -"

"Oh because that's going to end great, isn't it?" I couldn't help the sarcasm by this point. I even got to my feet so I could snap at him properly, face to face. "He'll just let you walk away with nothing more than a 'don't worry about it', won't he?"

"Frank-"

"No" by this point I was yelling "do you know how fucked up this is? I came here to help you and now you've tripled both our problems. Fuck, why do you have to constantly ruin my life?" So much for karma, all I seemed to get was more and more bad luck.

"Oh yeah because your life was just peachy without me" he grumbled, at which point I guess I let my self resolve crumble.

"You know what? I'm done here. Go fuck up your life however you want, I'm not sticking around to watch anymore."

And with that I stormed out of the room. Of course, I could hear him following behind me like a dog in disgrace, but I ignored him anyway and grabbed my jacket from the back of the sofa.

"Frank I'm sorry" he tried weakly, already knowing it would make no difference.

"Me too" was my sharp reply. I didn't allow myself to turn around as I knew I'd only be met with a destroyed expression that would have me forgiving him within moments. Perhaps later I'd feel the guilt of not turning back, but right then I just had to get out of there. 

Instead I walked straight out the front door, running on sheer rage and fear.

***

Hey,

Really sorry about the wait for this one. I just needed some time away until this story stopped feeling like a task and started to feel fun again, which I think it now is. I've been trying to spend too much time developing plot when I should've been just going for it.

Anyway, thanks for all your kindness and continued support.

H xoxo