Lurking in a corridor again. After at least three mouthfuls of whiskey. He was picking up all flavours of unsavoury habits as of late.

Tom spotted him almost immediately, “Come on.” He grabbed him by the arm, expression grim, leaving his friends in a confused cluster.

Artemis was swept along with the older boy, passing a number of empty rooms with a stumble, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet.”

Ah yes, following your drug dealer ‘somewhere quiet’, that was a classic hallmark of good decision making. He chuckled, a little delirious.

Wasn’t he supposed to be doing something? Oh, yes, trying to act as if he wasn’t high as a kite. He hadn’t meant to drink so much. Or take so much.

The latch of the fire escape groaned back into place after they emerged into the pale midday light. Groups of rowdy teens lounged about the green, taking no mind of the signs that read, ‘Do Not Walk On The Grass’.

“What are you-” Artemis began to ask, silenced by being tugged away, into a quieter and wilder part of the grounds, a deserted moss covered area behind the school, overgrown and forgotten.

“What dose are you on?” was the exasperated question Tom opened with.

“What?”

“Your pupils are three times bigger than they should be. And you’re acting like a stoner, you just let me drag you along for like five minutes without saying anything. You’re seriously out of it dude.”

Artemis shrugged, a little laugh escaping him, “You’re too serious.”

“Jesus, how much did you take?” Tom asked, still holding Artemis’s lower arm in a firm grip.

He squinted, “Maybe five? Not sure.” He swayed slightly.

“Five? This morning? What were you thinking? Shit, shit, shit.”

Another shrug, this time childlike and forlorn, “Don’t want to go back. He’s always there. I prefer to float.”

It was quiet. Had Artemis said something he shouldn’t have again? Maybe he had taken too much.

Concern was written all over Tom’s face, “Him?”

Artemis hummed as if in agreement.

Tom had that look on his face again, contemplating, like he was piecing together a horrible picture, “Is... Anything happening... Y’know...” he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “at home?”

Artemis tilted his head. Odd question. “No.”

“Who is he then?”

Artemis frowned, “Who-? Oh, James? I had RS today, he’s always there.” Before Tom could say anything, “I needed a...” what was the word? “Stimulant.”

“No. No, absolutely not. You can’t take uppers and downers together. Especially at a dose this high. It’s not safe.”

“Why do you care?”

Tom floundered for a second, as if he’d been caught in a lie, “Because I can’t have all my clients dropping dead. It’s bad for business. You could get me caught.”

That did make sense, his befuddled brain decided, “Someone’s going to notice, I need something to help get through the day. I can’t stop taking the xanax, it’s the only thing that makes it stop. I just need it to stop. I couldn’t do it on my own.” It came out in a stream of consciousness. He needed him to understand there wasn’t another option. “If you don’t give them to me I’ll get it from somewhere else.” But of course that could take days in his current state. And he didn’t have days.

“Fine. Fuck it. Fine, but I’ll only give you enough for one day at a time, I’ll give you the next day’s dose every day, got it. Only exception is weekends cuz that could get really complicated. The same goes for any more xanax you need.”

Artemis nodded.

“And I’m only giving three pills of xanax a day, and one slow-release amphetamine.”

“No- I can’t do that, Tom, I can’t-” Artemis felt panic rising

“Artemis, you can’t be taking five pills before lunch everyday. Take half a pill every four hours, that’s enough for six doses a day.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“But-”

“Artemis.” It was the kind warning you didn’t ignore, “You’re a year younger than me, I’m not going to be the reason you die. I gave you twenty yesterday, how many did you take yesterday?”

“Maybe six?” the world was tilting under him, he stumbled backwards but Tom’s arm shot out to steady him. Artemis fell into Tom’s chest, laughing, “You’re... strong.”

“Alright. Okay.” Tom said, trying to extricate himself and move to a much more appropriate position of an arm around Artemis's shoulders, propping him up, “You can’t see the nurse like this, you could spot it a mile off. They’ll check your room if you don’t register. Urm... Bloody hell. I live twenty minutes away, we’ll go to my place.”

Artemis shook his head, “Can’t skip school. They’ll ask questions, Bulter’ll find out. Everything’s supposed to be fine.”

“It’s not though, is it? You need to sober up mate, and I don’t think it’s going to happen during lunch.”

Artemis, who was in fact starting to realise that perhaps Tom had a point, grumbled, “Okay. No need to be so... bossy.” He snickered, the sentence comical coming from his mouth.

“C’mon, they probably won’t even notice you’re gone for the first two hours, everyone'll think you’ve gone to the nurse.”

----------------------------------------

They started towards the front gate, Artemis actually to walk something of a straight line.

A few passers looked curiously at the pair, clad in school uniform, one off balance and spacy. It probably didn’t look good.

It was cold, Artemis hadn’t noticed that before. The frigid air sent a chill through him. Why had they stopped?

Tom sat down at the bus-stop and so did he. The seats were icy. Of course they were.

“So, you got off your face because of James. You’re gonna have to explain more than that.”

His arms wound round his chest. His thoughts were becoming choppy and sharp. He didn’t like it, “It was after you left. He wouldn’t stop.”

Tom frowned, opened his mouth, then slammed it shut. He went still, “Oh. Oh, the thing told me about. He’s in you class?”

Artemis shrugged, noncommittally.

“That’s fucked up.”

Artemis jerked his head to the side, as if to say, ‘I guess.’

A few minutes past before the bus pulled up and rumbled to a stop, a wheezing hiss signifying the opening of the doors.

The driver cast them sceptical looks as they boarded, “You alright darling?” she asked, eyes on Artemis.

“Yes. Thank you.” He said, taken aback.

The driver waved them on, not convinced.

When the bus juddered back to life, Artemis could feel the vibrations of the engine in his toes. It was nice. He hadn’t been on a bus more than twice in his entire life.

Five more stops and they got off. That was good.

The house was small by Artemis’s standards, but his standards were a bit askew. Two floors, a garden, red brick walls. No cars in the drive.

“I don’t think anyone’s home, unless my sister pulled a sicky again. I can’t believe she gets away with it every time she has swimming.” He pulled key out of his pocket and the door opened with a clank of the lock.

The house felt lived in, warm. The hall was narrow, the floor made of laminated wood, “Miles is the same, he’ll do anything to avoid PE.”

A pause.

“Have you eaten? You missed lunch.”

Artemis frowned, “I don’t have to. I don’t...”

“No, you don’t.” Tom agreed, confused, “but do you want to?”

“No.”

Tom cleared his throat, a nervous hand coming up to his neck in that awkward way of his, “My rooms just up here, you need help getting upstairs?”

Artemis wasn’t sure.

Another awkward cough, “If course you do, what am I thinking. Right I’ll just...”

An arm slipped around his waist, taking a surprising amount of his weight as the gingerly edged up the too-narrow stairs.

Tom’s room was navy, a small bed in the corner. He was eased down into it, after Tom had helped pull of his shoes.

“Right, I’ll just be downstairs...” Tom backed away and shut the door behind him. Artemis snorted. The duvet had a comforting weight and it was warm under the covers.

He floated for a while, but was soon snoring lightly.

----------------------------------------

Artemis squinted, someone was talking, “Artemis. Artemis.”

He opened his eyes. He wasn’t in his own bed. A face loomed to his left, a boy.

He shot up, eyes wild, panic clouding his thoughts.

Narrow bed. Dark room. “Just let me.”

But the boy was backing away and hair his was light, not dirty brown.

“Shit, sorry. It’s just me.” He sidled to the side, opening the curtains, the room filling with light, “Are you alright.”

Artemis sagged, “Yes. Fine. You just startled me.”

“Okay, sorry. I was just checking on you, it’s about three by the way.”

Artemis nodded, remembering the embarrassing events that led him here. If there ever was a moment to bash his head against a wall, it was now. He groaned, closing his eyes and cursing his past self, “D’arvit.”

“What?”

“Oh god.” He bowed his head into his hand, hiding his face, “Oh god.”

The corner of Tom’s mouth twitched, trying to hold in a grin.

Artemis glanced up, “Shut up.”

The dam broke and Tom broke out in wheezing laughter, his voice rising in pitch “I didn’t say anything.”

“You… did not have to.” Artemis grumbled, locked in a fierce staring contest with the chest of draws across the room.

Tom quirked his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side as if to say, ‘Yeah, pretty much.’

Artemis lowered his feet to the floor, elbows on his knees, “I’m sorry about today. I took too much. It won’t happen again.”

“No – it won’t.”

Artemis went still. “You weren’t serious about that were you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It really isn’t necessary Tom, today was an outlier.”

Tom leaned against the doorframe, “Sure, it was.”

Artemis winced.

Tom pushed away from the door frame, arms across his chest, “Okay, what I’m gonna do is pretend that this conversation didn’t happen, for the sake of your dignity. I’ll go make myself some lunch, you can have some if you want. It’s about three, so we should at least try to get back by four.” He hesitated, “Also, we probably shouldn’t be seen going back together.”

Artemis nodded mutely.

Tom nodded awkwardly, “Okay, come down when you’re ready.” He walked out and trundled down the stairs.

Artemis closed his eyes, “I am a fucking idiot.” He made painful sound of frustration. This was almost as bad as Orion. He considered in jest, that perhaps Orion hadn’t been caused by his unconscious sexism and stress, perhaps it had been an expression of his debilitating social awkwardness.

Cringe was dead they said. Well, whomever ‘they’ were, they had not been here to witness this travesty.