Nicky stirred out of the covers on the bed. She ran to the bathroom, purging, crying. Yet another nightmare about her father...

Shock over-came her when she went to rinse out her mouth.

Where's Layne?

She glared over at the bed, confusion wrestling in her chest to see that he wasn't there. It was odd. He was usually always there. Plus he promised he would speak to her about their drug use.

Nicky tugged on a pair of new jeans Layne had bought her not too long ago, pulling her hair into a pony tail. She didn't even bother to fix her make-up as she jotted down the stairs and slipped on a pair of nike's.

"JER?!" She called out, lighting up a Marlboro. She peaked into the living room, sighing with relief when she spotted him reclining in the couch, packing a bowl.

He glanced up at her, his brow creased. "Where's Layne?" He asked her, suddenly sitting up.

"...I was about to ask you the same," she groaned, leaning against the wall. "Do you think he might be at Mike's...?"

He shrugged. "Either that or him and Mike and Erica are at Sean's apartment."

She nodded to the door of the house. "Do you mind giving me a ride over to Mike & Erica's?" She asked. Desperation bled in her eyes when she noticed Jerry's hesitation. "...I'm worried about him... He's been...well..."

Jerry grunted, getting up from his couch. He lit up one of his red's. "Don't tell me they're using again," he growled.

She watched him as he stomped into the kitchen, jamming his wallet into his denim jacket & jingling his car keys.

"What do you mean by that...?" she asked, following him out the door to his red pick-up truck.

He opened the passenger seat door for her, jumping into his driver's seat & starting up his truck. His teeth dug into his cigarette anxiously as he turned out of the driveway, screeching down the street. "Mike and Layne have...history..."

"What in God's name do you mean by history?!" Nicky shrieked. "Don't tell me they used boy together..."

"What the fuck is boy?" Jerry glowered. He parallel-parked his car across the street from Mike's tiny little 2-bedroom home, groaning when he noticed Layne's motorcycle parked by Erica's 2001 silver Volkswagen bug. "Fuck..." he muttered, jumping out of the vehicle.

"What?!" Nicky yelled. She ran up to him, stopping him. "What do you know that I don't?" she demanded, arms planted at his sides so he couldn't move away.

Jerry sighed, his head dropping into his palm. "They've...done drugs...together."

She laughed & shrugged. "I already knew that."

His brow creased, face ringing red. "Are they still fucking doing it?!"

She rolled her eyes. "I met him in rehab. What makes you think I'm the picture of fucking sobriety?"

He shook his head at her, stomping to the front door. He sneakily opened it, placing a hand against Nicky's mouth to let her know not to speak. The both of them snuck into the living room. No one to be seen...

They heard Layne's laughter muffled in the room down the hall. Quietly, they crept near the door frame of the room. Nicky had to place her hand over her mouth, shock overcoming her as she watched the scene play out.

It was just Layne & Mike. Layne was sat near the computer desk across the way, holding a bottle cap over a candle. He had a devious grin smeared across his face, every once in a while glancing over at Mike, who had a tourniquet tied tight on his bicep. His arm was beat red, tapping out bubbles out of a syringe.

"So, this stupid cunt phlebotomist couldn't even find my vein, man," Mike continued, snickering. "I kept telling her to just let me do it, you know? The bitch didn't even tie the tourniquet tight enough!"

Layne shook his head, biting back a laugh as he set down the bottle cap on his desk. He grabbed an empty syringe, sucking up the liquid & tapping out the bubbles himself. He bit onto the needle as he dug into his pocket & yanked out a tennis shoe string, tying it taut around his arm. "How long has she been sticking people? That's fucking nuts dude, I can see your veins from here..."

Mike smirked. "She told me that they only train them on the job now," he muttered. He grinned when he heard Layne laugh again.  The bassist yanked the tourniquet off his arm & injected himself. His eyes went lazy as he sunk down into the seat, groaning.

"Maybe I should be a phlebotomist," Layne continued. He stuck his arm, shutting his eyes lightly as he pushed the plunger on the syringe down. He bit his lip, laughing to himself. "Fuck, man, he never seizes to surprise me..."

"Who? Your good 'ol friend of yours?!" Nicky blurted, stepping into the room. She had her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest.

"Sup, Nicky," Mike said nonchalantly. He smirked over at Jerry.

Layne untied the shoe string, his eyes slanted towards his angry girlfriend. He still had that sloppy grin creased in his stoned face. "Aye, sexy, long time no see..."

Mike choked a laugh.  Suddenly, his arms crossed over his stomach, a grimace stretching across his face.  "God damn, this shit always hurts my tummy when it first hits..." He grumbled.

Layne turned to him, his grin wider. "Awe, poor baby, want some tum-tums?"

They both cracked up.

"Aye! You didn't answer my fucking question!" Nicky interrupted the junkie show splayed out infront of her.

Layne was still laughing, wiping tears of joy from his eyes. "Whaaaaaaaaat do you want? Heh?" He gestured to his crotch, winking at her. "You want some of this, babaaaay???"

Mike shook his head, chuckling, his stoned eyes lightly falling shut. "I'm nodding off man..."

Layne smirked, brows raised. "Me too."

"Your GOOD OL FRIEND?!" Nicky went on. She groaned, tapping her foot with impatience. "Gee, I forgot how fucking retarded heroin addicts are..."

Mike smiled. "Oh, you mean Jordan? That guys cool as fuck, man. Gives me discounts..."

"I knew you guys were still doing this crap," Jerry interjected. He scowled as he watched Layne laugh carelessly at him.

"Fuck, Jer, you've always been a Buzz Killington," Layne muttered quietly. He grabbed a bag from the desk of black tar and shook it at him. "You want some? It'll veg you the FUCK out."

Mike snorted. "Layne...dude...just no. You sound like a fag."

"How does that sound faggoty?"

"GOD YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING RETARDED!" Nicky screamed. She stomped over to Layne and smacked him across the face, waking him up from nodding off. "WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

"I'm awake." Layne blurted snidely. Him & Mike giggled.

"I thought you were done with this shit!" Jerry shouted. He pointed at Mike. "Especially you."

Mike raised a brow, eyes slanted back to Layne. His hand cupped his mouth, attempting to hide his giggling. "Fucking shaaaat...fucking YOU."

Layne smacked himself across the face. "Waaaaake uuuup!"

They both laughed again. Layne slumped over into the office chair, scratching at his neck. His brow creased with pleasure. "Fuck this is some good fucking SHIT. I love Jordan."

Nicky sighed, turning back to Jerry. She shrugged. "It's pointless talking to them like this. We might as well go back..." She turned back to Layne, analyzing how he blatantly ignored her, still giggling like a 5-year-old at a birthday bash. Immediately, she got irritated, following Jerry out of the room.

"Hey!" Layne shouted, running out the door of the house & grabbing Nicky's hand. "Hey, are you mad at me?" he muttered, his body slumping lazily.

She shook her head at him. "You look fucking ridiculous, you know that?"

Layne smirked. "You still love me."

"I don't know anymore," she growled. She spun back around.

"Hey! Don't be like that, babe. Tell me you love me..."

She rolled her eyes as she started to walk across the street. "You told me last night that you were going to talk to me about the shit we have been doing. And then I find you banging boy with Mike?! How long have you guys been doing this behind Jer and I's backs?!"

Layne pouted & wrapped his arms around her. He teared up when she pushed herself away from him.

"HOW LONG?!" She screamed. "Fucking answer the question you idiot!"

"Since you left..."

"WHAT THE FUCK LAYNE?!" Jerry shouted from his truck. "YOU FUCKING LIED TO ME AGAIN?!"

"You have no fucking idea, Jerry! You don't know what it's like! I lost Demri, then I thought I lost Nicky!"

"YOU ARE FUCKING PATHETIC!!!" Jerry screamed in disbelief. Before Layne could respond, he jumped into his truck & slammed the door.

"I thought I lost you..." Layne went on.

Nicky sighed, biting her lip. "Did you try to quit when you got me back?"

He licked his lips anxiously. "Yeah... The withdrawal was unbearable."

She held him for a moment, her eyes planted on her shoes. "I don't know whether to be upset or not..."

"Don't be," he muttered, running his hand through her hair. "Come back in... We have plenty of it, really fucking good shit. I know you wanna bang it..."

She laughed. "I'd rather have meth."

"Fuck that, that's all unnatural crap... Battery acid and shit," he grinned at her, gripping her hand. "Heroin's all na-sure-elle. Won't make your face break out into a road map unlike that crap."

She broke down crying again. She shook her head, glaring into his blue eyes. "This isn't right, Layne..."