Gaven pressed his face into his hand and tried not to sigh out loud. Yeah, he loved history, loved dates and battles and wars and scandals and names, but it was the lecturing that he couldn't stand. He couldn't learn by listening to people talk, by hearing them tell him what to remember; he had to read it himself, see it to get a grip on it.

Which was probably why he was doodling on the margins of his notebook and trying to pretend like he was paying attention to what his professor was telling him, at least. Since Gaven was no artist, he had ended up with a few tightly coiled spirals and some jagged shapes on the paper instead of anything distinct. He felt his eyelids drooping, bit his knuckle sharply to try to jerk himself awake, sat up and pulled his coat a little more tightly around him, then finally bit his finger again.

It was hard not to think about other things, not to think about Adrian and his recent discovery of, um, immortality. Hard not to still be relieved that his and Adrian's first fight had panned out to something managable. It was hard to think of anything but Adrian, actually, and Gaven winced slightly at the realization.

His stomach rumbled a little bit, and he sighed.

It was hard not to think of food, too, and he chewed on the end of his pen.

It was luck and his subconscious that got him to the right hallway. Once upon a time, earlier this quarter, Adrian had walked with Gaven to his class. Perhaps it was out of nostalgia, perhaps because Adrian wanted to stake his territory, let everyone know that he was the most important person in Gaven's life. No one else.

He didn't know the classroom. Didn't know the fucking classroom.

But that was okay, because he couldn't walk any further.

Somehow he collided against the wall. Slid down, tried to hold himself up. The jagged brick tore his hands.

He couldn't breathe. He was breathing too fast.

Someone screamed. He must have made a sight.

"Help! Somebody please help! This boy is dying!"

Death would be a reprieve. Instead he was unfortunately still alive.

He collapsed against the ground. Curled up as tightly as he could, sobbing, sobbing. All of his nerves were on fire.

Withdrawal should have happened hours after his body rejected the drugs. Instead, it was instantaneous. Perhaps it was because all the drugs were being forced out of his system.

He should be dead. He should be dead. Heshouldbedeaddeaddead.

Gaven's name was ripped out his throat almost animalistically.

Gaven was jerked fully awake by the scream in the hallway and was on his feet before his brain really registered what was going on. It never for a moment occurred to him that it could be Adrian out there, but it was pure curiosity that drove him to hurry like the rest of the class to the door.

"Hey, Gav, don't you know that guy..?" A girl in front of him asked, turning her head and pointing at him, and Gaven felt his heart drop into his stomach. He started tearing through the small crowd, then, pushing his way into the hallway and scrambling over to Adrian and hitting the ground next to him, gently grabbing at his shoulders.

"Adrian," he said, his eyes wide and face flushed with color for once. "Adrian, it's okay, come on, let's get you out of here," he said, assuming his friend was just going through a bad trip and had somehow ended up on campus. "Come on, let's get you up, please.. you're alright, it's okay," he said, his words slipping a bit from panic.

Adrian jerked away from Gaven, the feeling of someone touching him sending spikes across his nerves. There were too many people. He wanted Gaven there - needed him, felt as if he would die otherwise.

His eyes were wide, terrified, and his face bathed with sweat. Acidic sweat, sweet sweat, alcohol-fucking-flavored.

"Please, oh god please."

He held onto Gaven's shirt, afraid he would fall away. Needed an anchor to the world. Didn't really realize he was holding on so desperately to Gaven, pulled himself to his feet to try to blindly break through the suffocating crowd.

"...make it stop..."

His words were slurred, mumbled, desperate. He stumbled again. They whispered around them, their voices echoed as if they were in a high-vaulted cathedral, murmuring prayers.

He should be dead.

Gaven struggled for a moment, tried to figure out how he was going to get Adrian back to his apartment. Carefully, cautiously, he attempted to wrench them both to their feet, looping his arms around Adrian's waist and holding him close, not minding the sharp smell of drugs and alcohol. He twisted his head to the side, not addressing anyone in particular but the mass in general, "Get back to your classes, show's over." A few students were shamed into shuffling back into their rooms, and Gaven kept up a quiet murmur to Adrian.

"It's okay, it'll be over soon.. you're fine, just-- try not to think about it..." What did you tell someone who was coming down from a hit that bad? Did he need medical attention? What would they do about it-- he didn't seem like he was dying, just in distress.

He felt a hand touch his and looked, wide-eyed at his professor on her cell phone. "A cab'll meet you in the courtyard in a few minutes," she said, and Gaven was dazedly glad that he wouldn't have to sit through the rest of the lecture.

"Come on, Addie, can you make it with me that far, at least?" Bed. He needed to get him into a bed.

If he heard and understood it wasn't clear on his expression. He jerked a nod, but he was just agreeing because it was easier than saying no. Saying anything.

At some core level, he recognized the feel and sound of Gaven was was marginally comforted. But his head was pounding and he was still hearing things, still seeing things, still mostly unconscious of his surroundings. If he was still cognitively aware, he would have been amazed at how he had sought Gaven out before anyone or anything else. It made some sort of sense. To lose one dependency sent him to try and find the other.

He leaned most of his weight on Gaven's shoulder. Depended on him to get them to safety. He exhaled quiet moans, looked around continuously. Paranoid. The walls were caving in on them. He buried his face in Gaven's hair. Hid. When was it going to stop? It had been like this all night. The hours blurred together.

Gaven felt something lurch in his stomach again. Something wasn't right-- something was very, very wrong about this, in fact. This wasn't a normal drug trip, this wasn't just the usual coming down, but to consciously admit that would mean that real danger was lurking in the shadows, and that wasn't something that he could just do.

He carefully dragged Adrian out into the courtyard, which wasn't the easiest feat in the world, since he was a few inches shorter than the other boy and not exactly Hercules. Gaven kept up the soothing patter of words, running out of things to say and easing him into the cab anyway, starting the string over again.

He was in a cold sweat. He didn't want Adrian to die, but the fear was starting to seize his lungs and legs and he forcefully shook his head out of it as he told the cab driver his apartment name and gently gripped Adrian around the middle.

The cab driver probably thought Adrian was fucking nuts. He gave a little sobbing laugh at this situation, wanted to reassure the driver but probably made himself seem all the more crazy. That was okay. Gaven was there. He leaned against the glass. It felt so cool when his skin was on fire.

He couldn't stop trembling. It came in waves. For a moment he would feel stable, in the next he was shaking like a leaf.

"I don't - I don't know."

His hands were opening and closing. Uneven nails dug into his skin.

"I don't - know what's happening."

He was trying really hard, but his lips were trembling and his eyes were unfocused. This wasn't it, because he wasn't dead, but he didn't want to survive anymore.

"...to me."

It hurt so bad. Like his organs were rebelling against his blood which was mutinous against his heart and the oxygen was poison to his brain. He clung to Gaven's hand - too hard, too rough. He didn't want to hurt his best friend. He should let go.

He didn't.

"It's fine. I'll get you cleaned up, just-- try not to think about," Gaven said, knowing it was impossible and trying to squelch the wave of relief that washed over him every time Adrian seemed to slip into lucidity. He clung to his hand in return, brought it to his mouth and gently kissed Adrian's fingers, trying to reassure yet keep from overstimulating at the same time.

He really didn't give a flying fuck as to what the cab driver thought of them. He was too worried about Adrian.

"Just relax for a moment.. I'll get you in bed, call Mary over, maybe, she's a nurse, if it doesn't get any better.. You'll be alright, Adrian, don't worry about that, okay, okay?" he said, his voice a soft mutter, and he was thankful that he lived close and that the cab driver had decided to speed a little bit. It wasn't long until they were at his apartment; Gaven shoved a handful of cash at the driver and did his best to get Adrian out of the car. He realized then that he'd left his bookbag in the classroom, but thankfully his keys were still in his pocket.

"Think you can stand? You need to walk for just a little bit, it's not far, you know it's not.."

For a moment, Adrian seemed to focus on Gaven. In reality he saw black splotches and sharp reds, fuzzed out with static from a TV screen. His ears were buzzing. Louder and louder. Blocking out everything else. He was going to pass out soon. That wouldn't be good. He tried shaking his head slowly. Not too fast. Get some of his bearings back. He lunged forward towards those familiar steps. Knew he had to get somewhere, and the quicker the better.

"It's okay. It's okay." It wasn't. He didn't know who he was trying to convince. His voice didn't sound normal. It was slurred, as if his tongue was just being reintroduced to his palate.

All he wanted to do was lie down. Right there on the steps. His body seemed to agree. He fell again. There were scrapes on his knees and his elbows and his cheek. He sobbed a bit helplessly, bracing himself up on the steps, trying to push himself up. Poor Gaven. He had to deal with his fucked up dying friend, who wouldn't - couldn't - fucking die.

Gaven heard himself cry out softly when Adrian fell, and he struggled to help him up, reached up to gently brush at the scrape on his cheek as if some mystical power within could heal both it and whatever the hell was wrong with him now. His own breath was catching him hard, cutting his throat raw and he choked back a sob to echo Adrian's.

"Bastard," he said before he could stop himself and felt like he would be sick as he continued to drag Adrian up the steps, feeling his hands and arms shake a little bit as they finally, finally made it to the door and he jammed the key in the lock. He wished he'd been bigger, able to throw Adrian over his shoulder and just carry him up the stairs. Or maybe he should have been firmer, and made him stop the drugs.

He had just been so afraid that that would end their friendship.

Gaven caught his breath, dragging Adrian in, trying to guide him to the couch, not sure if they could make it back to the bedroom.

He collapsed on the couch, sort of half on and half off, and by a force of will managed to drag himself completely onto it. He latched onto one of the throw pillows immediately, closing his eyes tightly, trying to get the world to stop spinning, spinning, spinning. He swallowed convulsively. Knew he was half in the realm of conscious and half in the realm of pretty fucking out of it. Fuck. Oh, god. Fuck. Fuck.

Sorry Gaven. So, so sorry. Sorry you got stuck with a best friend like Adrian-fucking-Bastardi.

He blacked out. But just for a moment. Adrian wasn't lucky enough to escape this, not just yet.

Gaven stood there for a moment, shaking, watching Adrian orient himself on the couch. He seemed to snap out of his trance with a jolt, though, and disappeared to the bathroom, coming back with an empty bucket that he dropped next to the couch just in case Adrian felt the need to vomit.

He was a flurry of worried activity then-- calling his neighbor to find out that she wouldn't be home for a few hours, grabbing blankets, hastily throwing some water into ice trays and then slamming those into the freezer before he rushed back to Adrian and knelt down next to the couch, tugging at the other boy's shirt.

What should he do? Tell him to stay awake? Tell him to sleep? He didn't want him to die in his sleep. But it wasn't like a concussion. Was this an OD or a bad trip? How were you supposed to react in these situations?

"Adrian," he said, trying to get his shirt off of him for comfort's sake- it looked like he had been sweating, and he didn't want him freezing to death in a wet shirt, "tell me what you did. Come on."

Adrian tried concentrating on Gaven, but his eyelids felt heavy, and they kept drifting shut. His body spasmed a little bit and he swallowed painfully.

"...talked to someone..."

He groaned and twisted away. It was too hard to talk.

"..was angry with me. He said...couldn't do drugs..."

He stopped there because it hurt too bad and buried his face in the pillow, breathing heavily. Hyperventilating.

"...fell."

He fell and ended up in an alleyway. He moved in snapshots after that. Couldn't remember much. One moment he was twisted and screaming near a dumpster, scaring the homeless people and the cats, the next it was daytime and he was in Keaton University, screaming for Gaven, now he was on the couch. He wanted to sleep it off. He wanted to wake up and to realize that this was all a bad dream, bad trip. He was fine, fine. He moaned and pushed his feet against the couch, hard, wanting to run away.

Gaven listened to Adrian and felt his heart cracking a little bit. He had to have just been dreaming all of that, or hallucinating most likely, and it killed him to think that he was that far gone. It must have just been something bad, but Adrian wasn't dead yet, so he would pray that it would work its way out of his system.

"Do you want something to drink? I-- er..." He almost offered him tylenol or aspirin or something out of reflex, but that was a pretty stupid idea. He didn't want to add something else to the cocktail of whatever was already raging inside of him. "Some water, maybe..." He was talking more for his own benefit than Adrian's, since it seemed like the boy could barely hear him. Desperately, he reached out, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly between both of his own.

He grimaced and turned his head away. Water was a bad idea. He doubted he could hold it down. He was still trembling. He started counting. Tried to calm his breath down. Closed his eyes. Gaven was there. Everything would be fine now. One, two, three. He had to regain control. Had to sleep. All he wanted to do was sleep.

He groaned in pain and tried to bury himself deeper into the couch.

What the fuck was wrong with him? What was happening? He squeezed Gaven's hand.
He just wanted to sleep.

"Sleep," he begged, closing his eyes much too tight. "I want to sleep."

"Sleep, then," Gaven coaxed and prayed that it wasn't the wrong thing to tell him. "I'll-- I'll be here. It's okay. Nothing else is going to happen to you." He was still grasping at straws, unsure of what to say, and he leaned down to place the best motherly kiss that he could muster to Adrian's forehead as he squeezed his hand in return.

An ambulance. He should call an ambulance. But what would they do in that situation? Would they have been able to do anything else?

He trembled a little bit out of pure fear, then righted himself, still kneeling beside the couch. "Just sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."

If Gaven said he could, then it should be okay. He didn't fall asleep right away, though. It took him fifteen minutes. A half an hour. And when he finally slept, his dreams were hectic, confusing, frightening. Faceless people accused him. He dreamed of Gaven, but Gaven's face kept twisting into someone else, then back to Gaven again. Telling him who he really was. He thrashed in his sleep restlessly. Moaned quietly.

When he woke again he had no idea where the hell he was. His head was throbbing, but—

"Fuck," he groaned out. This wasn't right. He was never sober enough to feel hung over. He was fuzzy, confused, but—

Why the fuck was he so lucid?

Adrian blinked blearily and swallowed. He tried pushing himself up, but his arms protested and he collapsed back against the couch again. It felt like someone was hammering the inside of his skull. The lights pierced his eyes, and he grabbed the pillow to cover his face.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, go back to sleep."

Gaven's voice was surprised and a little hoarse, almost a little hopeful. He had dragged a chair up beside the couch and had been talking to him almost constantly since he had brought him home. He was pacing from the kitchen, nursing a bottle of water and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

He had cat-napped, caught a little bit here and there, but couldn't close his eyes without seeing Adrian's imprint, sobbing and moaning on the backs of his eyelids. But at least he wasn't dead.

Gaven dropped back onto the chair, voice slightly raw though soothing. "S'okay, Adrian, you're safe..." He didn't want to get his hopes up. He looked slightly more lucid this time, but how could you tell?

"Gaven?" he groaned, venturing out from behind the pillow to squint at him in pain. "What am I doing here? Better yet, do you have any Aleve?" He pressed the pillow over his eyes again, frowning against the cloth. Something wasn't right. He felt like he'd been run over a couple of times, and that wasn't really out of the ordinary, but there was something distinctly wrong. Out of place. Missing.

"What happened? God, my fucking head." He felt cottony. Nauseated. He swallowed a bit. His mouth was dry.

"You, uh, collapsed." Gaven swallowed a bit, trying to bite back the relief that was rushing over him as Adrian managed to actually string some coherent sentences together. "Outside of my classroom, in the hallway.. um, about a day and a half ago. I got you here, but..."

Gaven imagined that he and Adrian both looked like they'd aged about five years since then.

"I've got some medicine, but first.. can you try to keep down a little water? I've been worried-- you're probably getting dehydrated.. don't try to sit up, I think-- I think you're going through withdrawal or something, you probably just haven't been on something in a while..."

Mary had swung by. Adrian showed all of the classic, violent signs of a system rebelling against itself in need of some type of drug. Gaven sat on the chair next to him and gently eased the bottle of water forward, as if offering.

Adrian pushed the pillow from his face, frowning. "Withdrawal?" That was impossible. His doubt showed on his face. "Can't be." He took the water hesitantly, not fully trusting his unreliable limbs. His hand was still shaking, but much gentler than before. Sipped the water. It felt like needles in his throat, and he almost wanted to choke it back up. Smaller sips. Take your time, Addie-boy.

"Can't be," he repeated, frowning. It wasn't possible. The track marks on his arms were still fresh.

He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and flipped the lid open. The cigarettes winked up at him cheerfully. He flung the pack across the room, angry, furious. He wanted to rage, for some reason, wanted to break things. Didn't know why he was so angry.

"A day and a half?" He was speaking through grit teeth. Adrian stared up at Gaven. It was weird. This was the first time he had seen his friend with such clarity in a long time. It was disturbing. Where was that familiar, comforting haze?

"Yeah. Well, maybe a little over a day and a half.. you've woken up a few times, and don't choke yourself.." Gaven rubbed his face tiredly, taking the water when Adrian was done and wincing when he flung the cigarettes across the room. "Do you think you could keep some food down? Crackers or something.. you're sick, Addie.."

He leaned forward and took his hand again, lacing Adrian's fingers with his own as if to remind himself that he were still alive, still on his couch. He'd been scared out of his mind for the last thirty two hours. It was nice to get a little reprieve.

"Or you should try to sleep some more, at least.. until you're feeling a little better. I need to run to the store to get you something for your headache." He'd gone for some aspirin himself and discovered that it was all long gone. Gaven didn't take medicine often himself, not unless he needed it direly-- perhaps a result of watching Adrian spiral downwards from drugs.

Adrian clutched his hand a little desperately. "Don't go." He could deal with the headache for now. The idea of being on his own with these demons crawling around the edges of his consciousness terrified him much more than the bright light stabbing his retinas.

A day and a half - missing. Adrian frowned. There was great big batches of his life missing, but he was never so conscious about it. How did he end up like this?

Normally Adrian would let it go. But for some reason, it made him angry - so fucking angry. Why was he so angry? He wasn't like this. Adrian was so laid back, so gentle. He never flew off the lid. The unfamiliar fury scrabbled inside him, and Adrian closed his eyes.

"I don't want to fucking sleep anymore." His voice was too sharp. He grimaced. Confused. So lost. Why was he so angry? He was never angry at Gaven. "Please don't go." So desperate. He sounded so desperate and frightened.

Gaven swallowed thickly, tensed a little at the anger in his words, then tensed even more at the pure desperation. He sounded like-- a child. Helpless. Needy, and Gaven exhaled softly and scooted the chair a little more closely. He wasn't letting go of his hand.

"Not going anywhere.. spent too many years watching your ass to just leave it now, you know?" He said lightly, gently stroking the back of his hand like one might stroke the arm of someone on his death bed. "You're fine.. you're just sick. You need time. You'll get better." He really, really wanted to believe that. What a puzzle.. could it have really been withdrawal?

Adrian breathed out a sigh of relief. What was wrong with him? He really wanted a cigarette, but the memory of the stench of nicotine made his stomach recoil in horror. He clumsily pet Gaven's hand, as if trying to assure him everything was okay, that things would go back to normal sooner than later. He hardly believed that himself.

"I need a bath. Jesus Christ." He tried sitting up despite Gaven's prior insistences that he went back to sleep. His head spun. He cursed a little, pressed his fingers against his eyes. What the fuck was wrong with him? He sounded so gruff. Still mad mad mad. Mad as a hatter.

He rarely heard Gaven curse. He must be having a hard time with this. Adrian probably wasn't making it better. He was sorry, but had no idea how to stop.

"You do, but I'm sure you've gone longer without them before. Stay down, you might get sick all over the place or fall of the couch or something." The anger surprised Gaven a bit, but he pushed it off to the back of his mind. 'Of course he's angry,' he thought and shook his head at himself, 'look at what's happening to him. I'd be pretty angry too.'

He leaned forward, tipped the bottle of water curiously at his mouth, as if asking if he were thirsty.

"...you're doing a lot better than you were. Was afraid you wouldn't wake up properly. You're getting better."

Adrian looked as if he wanted to protest, but there was a certain amount of logic to Gaven's words and he slumped back into the couch. For having apparently slept for a day and a half, he was extremely tired. "I'm sorry, Gav. You okay?" It was almost funny - not really in the 'haha' way, how concerned he was over his best friend when he felt like he was falling apart at the seams. "You should get some sleep. Did you sleep at all?" He couldn't remember if Gaven mentioned anything about sleeping.

"I'm fine." A bald-faced lie. He closed his eyes so that Gaven wouldn't see the truth. When he opened them again it was to take the water and just hold onto it, not really trusting his body to hold down anymore liquids. His throat was hoarse. He must have been screaming.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Gaven answered, rolling his eyes slightly at Adrian even though he didn't exactly think that anything was funny. Quite the opposite, really, and he had to fight to keep from sinking down in his seat. "I've slept plenty.. I'm not the one who's been ranting and raving in my sleep."

He tried to give him an affectionate smile, but ended up just feeling like an ass and handing the bottle of water over.

"And you're not fine. I know you're not tired, but you do need to try to get some more rest.. I'll wake you up a little later, and we'll see about getting you a shower." He smiled tiredly. "Or maybe a sponge bath. I'll call some nurses."

This whole situation was uncomfortably awkward, especially since Adrian was acutely aware of everything. He was sober. He hadn't been sober since he was - what, eighteen? He frowned.

"Gaven," he said slowly, ignoring the suggestion he rested some more. Apparently, he'd been sleeping for a day and a half. He didn't need any more sleep.

"Gaven, what happened to me?" His voice was hoarse. He sounded as different as he felt. "What happened? I - I went to your school freaking out and...?" He shook his head. "Did I say anything? Like, what happened to me?" That spike in his voice again. The unfamiliar fury. He exhaled, trying to calm down again.

Gaven looked away, then back at him again, drawing his hands to fold them in his own lap as he considered the questions and tried to think of an answer that would placate Adrian. "...you kind of collapsed in my hallway. Woman started screaming.. I don't know if you were looking for me or if it was just chance." He glanced back at him finally, shrugging his shoulders in a sort of helpless, don't-ask-me-this-I-don't-know fashion. He was trying not to tense at the sharp spikes of anger that were poking through every few moments, he knew that wasn't Adrian, but it was difficult.

"..and I don't know what's happened to you. I've been asking. You, I mean, but you weren't able to say anything about it, other than-- you said someone said you couldn't do drugs anymore." Which sounded absurd. "I couldn't.. really make sense of the rest."

Adrian's frown deepened. He really couldn't remember much. There were flashes, pictures of things that could have happened, but Adrian wasn't entirely convinced that these weren't dreams. Hell, it seemed like the last five years were dreams.

He looked down at the water bottle and raked his fingers through his hair, trying to remember someone telling him he couldn't do drugs. Trying to figure out why someone saying that would even matter. Why would something like that effect him so drastically? This whole situation shouldn't have even happened.

"I think I'm being fucked with."

By whom, though? Who could do such a thing? Adrian and drugs just went together, and it had to take a damn powerful being to separate the two. Not even Adrian himself could cut drugs from his lifestyle.

"This...isn't a bad trip. I'm not high. Fuck."

He wished he was. Already his body was protesting, wanting more, desperately craving for anything.

Gaven could have guessed that Adrian was sober; it had been at least a day and a half since he had ingested anything at all. Not that he was an expert, really, on how drugs worked. He knew what he observed from Adrian, and he hadn't been able to discern too much. He never knew what Adrian was on.

"Maybe the same person who said you, um, couldn't die?"

He glanced over at him, studied his face for the six hundredth time that hour, then fidgeted nervously with his own hands. He wondered if maybe Adrian was just losing it, if his body were rebelling once and for all, and then immediately felt shamed for such a traitorous thought.

Gaven swallowed.

"Maybe I should get you to a rehab. Or a hospital or something. They'll let it-- let it mellow out of you, you know? Or something." He seemed terrified of making a mistake, but he wasn't sure what to do.

"No," Adrian said slowly. "I don't think it was the same person." He raked his memory for different faces, for people who were different, strange, abnormal, but all the faces blurred together. Hell, who was he kidding? For the last several years, everyone he hung out was 'different,' 'strange,' and 'abnormal.' And he knew so many fucking people that it was absolutely impossible to track them all down.

He remembered a bar.

That was his last memory.

A bar and a hot blonde chick.

Someone angry.

Who did he piss off this time?

Gaven was talking to him again. He focused on him. Narrowed his eyes and scowled. "Yeah, Gaven. Great fucking idea. And then they can cut me up to try and figure out how I tick and why I won't stop ticking. I can't die."

No, this was wrong. He shouldn't be angry. Not at Gaven, never at Gaven. Anxiety twisted his stomach. He had to get out of there. Had to do something. Wanted to pace, to run, to never stop running, dive in front of a car, let it all end. It would be easier for both of them that way. Adrian's existence just made Gaven's life harder, and Adrian couldn't live like this. Weird. How long had he been awake, and he was already thinking of things that he wouldn't dream of considering normally? He just wanted this out of control spinning, spinning, spinning to end.

Gaven held his breath for a moment and tried not to feel hurt by Adrian's sharp words - it was the withdrawal talking, or whatever the hell it had been that seized his friend like that.

"If you think you can get up, I'll run a shower for you," he said, and was horrified to hear his voice a little sharp. It wasn't on purpose, and he wasn't angry, just a little defensive. "Or I can try to find you some clothes to change into at least. You've probably sweated through all of those."

He dropped the topic of who it might have been that caused him to be that way. He was still wary of the super-natural topics, of how glamorous and easy it would be to explain everything away like that, so he just ignored it for now.

Adrian was surprised at how willing he was to snap at Gaven for sounding so defensive. He was even more surprised at the temptation to reach over and grab Gaven and shake him, yell about how he was the one who was going through all this crap, that he was the martyr here, not Gaven.

Except that totally was not fair, since Gaven had been watching Adrian all this time, watching Adrian fall apart. Gaven was the one who was there to help put him back together.

"It's fine." Gaven had already done so much. "I can run a shower by myself." He tried to soften his words with a shaky smile, but it was so frightened, so, so scared. He turned away to hide his fear and pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself against the couch. For a moment his world blacked away as the blood rushed to his head. He held himself up, waiting for the moment to pass. Swayed a little. He hadn't used his muscles for a day and a half. He was weak as a kitten.

That anxiety clenched at him again. For a moment he felt as if he was going to panic, to breakdown, to start sobbing and begging for Gaven to never leave him. If Gaven left, he would be alone. The thought sent him trembling again. God, he was falling apart.

"Shower," he said, hoarsely. "I need to—"

He forced himself towards the bathroom, reaching to grab the wall in order to stay supported. Maybe he was sit down in the middle of the tub. He didn't think he would be able to stand long enough to clean himself up properly.

Gaven watched Adrian push himself up off the couch and onto the wall, his eyes wide, a little frozen as he tried to figure out just what, exactly, he was allowed to do for him. He leaned forward a little bit as he saw Adrian weaken against the couch, and pushed himself to his own feet as the other boy leaned against the wall for support.

"...come on," he said finally, giving up and moving to his side, wrapping his arm around Adrian's waist, wanting to support him, lead him to the bathroom. "You're in my freaking house, at least-- let me try to help you, at least, okay? I'll run the water."

Probably in the tub, unless he climbed in and held Adrian up for the duration of the shower.

"You just need to be resting right now." He slid his free hand through his hair, rubbed his face, as if he was trying to think of what to do next. I'm going to be so behind in classes, he thought briefly, then firmed his grip on Adrian's waist. It wasn't his fault that he was being short tempered, he decided. I'd probably be the same way if I were him.

For a moment, Adrian let himself be held up by Gaven. He paused mid-step, enjoying the feeling of Gaven beside him, before turning slightly to hug his shorter friend. He didn't really know how to show his appreciation, since his mind - his treacherous mind - was jumping from emotion to emotion. So this was what it was like to be so ridiculously unstable.

"Heh, sorry." For everything. "I probably just got you as disgusting as I am right now." He pulled back and leaned on Gaven, closing his eyes. "What day is it? I'm sure you have more important stuff to do than deal with your fucked up friend." Not to start a pity party, or anything. Adrian grimaced and wondered when he would be through with feeling sorry for himself. He figured it was the effects of the drugs - his mind was all screwed up. Euphoria so quickly replaced by dysphoria. He was lower than a fucking worm. He had been so dependent on the drugs to retain some sense of normality, and now he had - nothing. Absolutely nothing. He felt so hollow inside, even though he was so quick to snap.

"Thursday evening.. it's okay. I need to shower too, anyway." Gaven paused for a moment in the hallway as Adrian hugged him, wanting to make sure that he didn't topple both of them over. "..and I don't have anything more important than taking care of you."

He started toward the bathroom again, nudging the slightly ajar door open further with his foot, and leading Adrian over to take a seat on the toilet lid. "Besides," he continued softly, moving over to kneel next to the bath tub and turning the water on, "you'd do it for me if I got sick, too."

Gaven seemed most comfortable treating this like a disease, or an illness. Something that would be cleared up in a day or two, even though he had the good sense to know better, to know that he was probably in for a hell of a ride.

"Lukewarm okay, or do you want it hot?" He wished he had bubblebath or something, something to lighten the mood, but he always took showers. Apparently he planned on bathing Adrian for him.

"Hot."

This should be something from the dreams. Instead, he sort of stared at the wall, holding onto the sink to keep balance on the toilet seat. He felt sort of nauseated and extremely dizzy, and knew that the hot water would probably be really bad for him. He was already out of it enough. But he would be in the bath, not in a shower, and was likely to pass out regardless of the water temperature.

He fell silent. Stared at the wall. Somewhere, deep inside of him, something had changed, and he didn't know if he would be able to fix it. Chances were, he was changed for life. He had seen it happen to other people. They come away from drugs a new person, and never for the better. Angrier - he was already showing signs of this. Depressed - well, that was a given, right? He had been so dependent on drugs to keep up the level of normality. He was afraid the Adrian he knew, the one everyone knew, was long gone.

That, more than anything else, was what made him want to turn back to drugs the most.

"You gonna bathe with me, then?" There was something flat about his voice. Weeks ago he would have been dancing for joy. Now he stared blankly at the wall.