TW: addiction, talk of suicide (please please please don't read if this will be harmful to your mental health.)

I'll be more specific- slight idolization of suicide by a character that is not Evan or Rowan, is not thought about in first person but discussed verbally.

***

The early morning rays of sunlight were slowly brightening the room, and my eyes felt like they were being weighed down by lead. Rowan had been gone for hours.

I worried for him. The expression on his face when he'd left had been one of fatigue, frustration. I wondered whose mess he was cleaning up, and if it would ever end for him.

I turned on my side, the bed was colder than it'd been earlier, when he'd been in it. I still hadn't fully given thought to what our night together would mean, for me- for him. I was scared to think about it, because the longer I did the more I realized it probably wouldn't lead to anything. Rowan seemed to have acted instinctively, and I knew he was dealing with a lot. I was only adding more stress, having him pick and choose what he could and couldn't tell me.

He was even dealing with my problems too. He'd helped me after both nights with Ray, come to my house after I'd found the red-stained paper... my hands covered my face and I rubbed my eyes hard in frustration. I realized how selfish I was being, only thinking about what I wanted.

My tired gaze wandered to Rowan's bedside again. It was the same as it'd been the night before- supporting two bottles of water, a reading lamp and a neatly stacked pile of books.

I scanned through the titles again, before my eyes rested on one that looked older, worn out. I glanced at the closed door before reaching for it, gently pulling it from the center of the stack.

Unbroken Brain: A Revolutionary New Way of Understanding Addiction by Maia Szalavitz.

The pages were ruffled at the bottom corner, like the book had fallen- or gotten thrown at something solid. I flipped it in my hands, the over-read paper feeling fragile in my fingers, as if one forceful flip could be their last.

Sorrow trickled through me at the realization that this was Rowan's most read book. The others had whiter pages, less creased edges. I turned the book over again and flipped to a random page without thinking.

I paused as heat slowly made it to my face, I shouldn't... I shouldn't have opened it. The pages were heavily annotated, Rowan's frantic handwriting scribbled along almost every line, circling certain words, phrases, crossing some out. He'd written in different colors, sometimes pencil, crossed his old words out, writing doesn't work next to earlier drawn question marks.

It was all very... personal. Private. I snapped the book back shut, I didn't want to see any more. I felt a strong rush of shame at the understanding that I'd just heavily invaded Rowan's privacy.

I slipped the book back to where it'd been before and laid back down on the sheets, covering my face with my hands.

I thought of Rowan, sitting in that exact bed and reading that book, over and over again. Searching for answers- searching for anything on how to put his family back together.

***

"Evan," there was a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I curled further into the sheets. They smelled like him. I wanted to ask what cologne he wore so I could buy some for myself, keep a bottle that'd bring me comfort.

I made an incoherent sound in response, and the hand traveled to my side, fingers softly dragging against my back.

"Evan, let's get you some food."

The light in the room was bright- too bright, it wasn't morning anymore. The noise had returned to the atmosphere, students were talking loudly in other rooms and laughing in the courtyard.

Rowan was sitting next to me, he was wearing what he'd left in but lost the jacket. I blinked a few times, wondering when I'd fallen asleep, wondering what time it was, but mostly savoring the feeling of his hand on me, the warmth it brought.

I rubbed my eyes, only further blurring my vision.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, slowly and gracelessly pushing myself up to sit. Despite the more solemn expression on his face, Rowan's lips turned upward in a small smile, averting his eyes.

"It's three." I felt my jaw drop a fraction which didn't seem to entertain Rowan any less.

"Three?!"

He hid his smile and nodded, eyes finding their way back to mine.

"Yeah, got back around nine and you were asleep."

I rubbed my eyes again, hard. How the fuck had I slept until three?!

"You should've woken me up," I mumbled, embarrassed at the thought of him seeing me asleep, again.

"You looked too comfortable." His voice was soft, I wondered if he'd slept at all. "Only reason I woke you up now is to make sure you're not in a coma."

I snorted, then covered my face with my hand at how unattractive that sound was, wondering why my body chose to betray me in the worst scenarios.

"And, to get food," he added, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Because you didn't eat last night, and you've gotta be hungry now."

I felt myself blush as I looked at him, his expression was mixed, but I was happy to see a hint of a smile. My eyes traveled to a small, dark blue patch of skin below his eye, and I felt my brows gather slightly.

"What..." I raised a hand without thinking, lightly touching the skin around it. "Are you okay?"

Rowan looked surprised. Like maybe nobody had asked him that before, like maybe they'd been too intimidated to ask him anything about the mysterious marks on his body that showed up in the night. I'd never asked him before.

His eyes flickered between mine, something stirring behind them and I realized I was still touching him. I took my hand back, my face reddening further. There I was again, intruding.

But Rowan took my hand, the one I'd just taken away. He squeezed it softly, reassuring me.

"I'm okay," I looked at our hands, the way his swallowed mine up, the way his knuckles were bruised, again. I was starting to realize that they were bruised more often than not. "Sorry for leaving last night, I had to... deal with someone."

Those words, with those bruises, should've been intimidating. My mind should've gone to the worst possible extremity of what could've happened, but instead I read them to be sad, tired.

"It's ok," I responded. The apology wasn't needed. "Don't be sorry."

There was a pause, and I just sat there listening to his breathing. His hand tightened around mine and he stood up, pulling me with him.

"You need to eat."

Rowan took me to the campus cafe, where he said they served breakfast burritos all day. I usually wasn't hungry in the mornings, but well- it was nearing four o-clock and despite the fact that I'd just woken up, I could feel my stomach rumbling.

He hadn't let me pay, quickly swiping my hand as the student worker eyed the two of us, before congratulating him on his game. He thanked her politely and grabbed our food, leading me to the courtyard outside.

"You paid last time." I muttered, reminded of the rainy night we'd spent in his car.

"Yeah, all you got was a milkshake," he nudged my shoulder and I felt butterflies return to my body, trying to be less conscious of the fact that we were in public, and people could see us. "If it really bothers you, you can pay next time."

Next time...

I finished my burrito relatively quickly, trying to act casual as more people came up to Rowan, congratulating him, trying to start conversations. I wondered if I'd always be so nervous in public, or if I'd eventually be able to go back to the way I was.

Rowan kept his interactions relatively short, and right as the last group of his fangirls were walking away my phone gave a loud buzz.

If you're coming home soon, can you pick up some pizza your father ordered? I can put it under your name.

I fiddled with my phone, I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to know if this would be my last alone time with Rowan, if things would change.

"What's up?" He was looking from me to my phone, curious.

"Oh, my mom just wants me to grab some food on the way home." He nodded, giving a casual glance around before turning back to me.

"You're free to come back later. If you want."

I felt my lips turn upwards, failing to hold back a smile.

"Really?"

Rowan nodded, his eyes searching mine as he stood up, not attempting to hide his own grin.

"Of course. Let me walk you to your car."

The walk wasn't long, and I spent it nervously babbling about the county elections that were coming up, glancing over to Rowan every now and then to make sure I wasn't boring his ears off. He seemed amused, and while I didn't know if that was good or bad I kept going on anyway.

"And, Maxwell was literally caught fucking a sixteen year old intern and he's still winning in the polls. Like, what the fuck is wrong with this- oh this is my car."

I ended my long rant and turned to see a very entertained Rowan peering down at me.

"Thanks for walking with me," I said, fishing my keys from my pockets. He flashed me another smile, perfectly white teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

"Anytime." He moved closer to me, "I'll make sure not to vote for Maxwell." I laughed, crossing my arms.

"Thank you," he moved in closer and wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head the way I loved. It felt safe, protective, and I inhaled deeply as my arms wrapped around him too.

"Drive safe, okay?" I nodded in his chest, wondering how a simple hug could feel like everything.

***

"Ya got any cash?"

My heart thumped in surprise as a man came out of the shadows. I felt my body tense and my mind raced as I remembered my past experiences with men on the street.

"Uh," I frowned slightly, thinking. All I had were quarters, and I felt like that'd be insulting to offer. What could quarters buy anybody? I fished them out anyway. "This is all I have..." the man looked disappointed, but took them anyway.

"Thanks," he muttered, and my eyes widened slowly as I looked over his build, then features. His dark eyes, sharp jawline... he would've been handsome had it not been for the missing front tooth and dirty face. The resemblance was faint, but it was there...

"Um..." I pointed to the pizza parlor in front of me, not thinking in the slightest. "If you're hungry I can get you something real quick..."

The man looked surprised. I could tell by his calculating look that he wasn't on anything- he seemed tired but present.

"Really?" He sounded hopeful, and I felt my heart fall a bit at that. He was skinny- skinnier than me, his cheekbones were prominent under his sinking skin. I tried not to stare.

He looked older than his Facebook profile photo. Like a decade had passed, and time was not his friend.

"Yeah, whatever you want."

I wondered if this was a bad idea, but his expression was only grateful, and he clasped his hands together tightly.

"Thanks so much. I'll do a pepperoni slice and a Pepsi?" He ended on a higher note, like he was concerned it was too much to ask for. I nodded, offering him the closest thing to a smile I could muster.

"Sure, I'll be right back." He nodded quickly and thanked me again, but I felt a bad feeling wash over me as I walked into the parlor.

Would I tell Rowan about this? Would he want to know, or would it only add to his stress- knowing I saw and recognized his father at his lowest point.

"I'm picking up an order for Evan, and can I add..." I quickly glanced at the slices on display, finding the pepperoni label in front of an empty pan. "Is there any more pepperoni?"

The worker glanced at the display, before looking back towards the kitchen.

"It'll be out in about ten minutes, did you want a personal pizza or just a slice?"

I blinked, fiddling with the credit card in my hands. I didn't want to keep him waiting, but a personal pizza would last him longer.

"I'll do a personal pizza. Oh and a Pepsi- thank you." The worker nodded and gave me what I assumed was a very overused work-smile as he put in the order. I handed him my card.

It took a little over ten minutes, and I was nervously bouncing on my feet as I waited, hoping Rowan's dad didn't think I'd forgotten about his food.

I walked out, balancing the drink on the three hot boxes which covered my sight as I tried not to drop them. He wasn't where he'd been before, and my heart fell as I searched the area and he wasn't to be found.

After a moment, I slowly walked around the parlor to the parking lot looking in every direction, hoping he was near. I briefly thought of leaving the box on the ground where he'd been earlier, but something shifted near the dumpsters and I recognized his figure. He was sitting down, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. I paused before walking towards him, making sure I dragged my feet so he wouldn't be surprised at my presence.

"Hey, I have your food." I said, hoping my voice didn't give away the fear I felt in that moment. The parking lot was almost empty- a few cars parked near the building which I assumed belonged to the workers- and mine on the farther row.

He opened his eyes slowly, they were glazed over and a small frown formed on his face.

"My food?" His voice was different. My eyes trailed down to the ground, and I saw a pipe of some sort a few inches away from his hands. "Ya got me food?"

Fuck.

"Uh, yeah..." I gingerly set the box in front of him, my shaking hands almost causing the Pepsi to slip and fall.

He just stared at me, and I wondered if any thoughts were forming behind those dark, lidded eyes. I gave him a quick smile and turned to head back to my car, feeling as if somehow it was my fault that he'd gotten high- maybe he'd felt ashamed asking for help- or accepting help. Maybe he'd thought I'd left and was frustrated at the false hope.

"Do ya ever think about death?" He asked, and I felt a small chill run down my spine.

I turned back around, but my voice was caught in the back of my throat at the question. It seemed he took my silence as an answer.

"I think about it all the time." His eyes remained closed, and I glanced around, wondering if someone would come- hoping someone would come. "Like maybe it'd be easier for everyone if I weren't here."

I shifted my weight, feeling dread creep in. I didn't have the right words to give him- I didn't have the right words to even tell myself what to do.

"Have I told ya about the time..." he was talking to me like an old friend, maybe he thought I was one. He paused, his head nodding downward before he jerked it back up, his eyes opening again a fraction. "Have I told ya about the time... I almost died?"

I was frozen to the spot, feeling like an idiot holding onto the boxes like they were protecting me.

"I'd injected a lotta..." he frowned, before shrugging. "A lotta somethin'." His head tilted up and he stared at the sky. "I just remember being in this state, where I couldn't breathe- it was numb, it didn't hurt. An' all I could see was the moon." His eyes closed again. "Fuck, it was so beautiful... remember thinkin' that's how the world was created- that's how it'll end. Just lookin' up at the sky."

I bit my lip, looking back down at the pipe. I wondered how many he had, I wondered how much he'd taken.

"I was so close." He opened his eyes and stared at the moon. "I was so close to finding out what happens. After."

I didn't want to think about his words, because I'd already thought of them. Years and years ago- I didn't want to think about space again. I didn't want to think about death- or what happened after death.

There was a long pause as he kept staring up, and I took a step back, wondering if he'd notice me leave. Wondering if he'd keep talking like I was still there. Wondering if I should even leave him in a state like that. But what could I even do to help?

"I've been wondering for ages... but I can find out whenever I want." He shifted, pulling something from his waistband, and my eyes were slow to adjust, my mind slow to process what the object he pulled out was.

He held the gun sloppily, his eyes falling to it as if it held all the answers he needed. Blood drained from my face, and a sick, cold feeling rushed over me. My thoughts were blank, and my eyes followed the gun closely as it unsteadily lay in his moving grasp.

The boxes I held didn't feel so protective anymore. Even they'd gone cold.

"Isn't that crazy?" His eyelids drooped so far down, they could've been closed. "I can find out right now if I want to." He turned to me, "you're not curious?" I took a step back, slowly shaking my head, still unable to speak.

He frowned, and I felt my heart stop as he turned the gun on me.

"You've gotta be a lil' curious." I was shaking, my grip on the pizza boxes so tight I was sure I'd lost the circulation in my hands already. "We could both find out. Right now."

My eyes were on his finger, it wasn't on the trigger yet, but I could see it twitch, like he was itching to move it.

"I..." my voice was small, and I failed to hold back the quiver in my tone. "I really don't want to find out."

Rowan's father blinked at me. Once, twice, before another frown appeared on his face.

"Ah, fuck look at me, being all rude. Ya bought me food an' shit." He lowered the gun, watching it for a moment before lifting it to rest the barrel against his temple, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. "But... I kinda wanna find out."

"No-!"

The boxes fell to the ground as I ran forward without thinking, lunging at his arm. I wasn't strong, but he was taken off guard and the gun clattered to the ground. He didn't push me away, he didn't do anything. It was as if his mind wasn't in control of his body, his arm just moved to where I forced it against his chest, limp.

"Why...?" His eyes were closing, and he slowly leaned back against the ground, resting his head on a backpack, as if all of his energy had been exerted. "Why would ya do that?" He mumbled, but stayed still, his eyes finally shut.

I was breathing heavily, could hear my heartbeat pumping blood up to my eardrums.

I couldn't call the police... I couldn't. Rowan was tied to them- tied to Creighton- because of this exact type of situation.

I slowly let go of him as I saw his chest rise and fall deeply. He was asleep.

My mind was on overdrive, my hands balled up in fists at the stress as I looked at the gun on the ground, then around me. There was still nobody near, though I could hear music playing from a nearby restaurant.

My hands ran through my hair, pulling, releasing. I took a shaky breath, but it was shallow, and my heart felt as if it were about to burst from my chest.

I spotted a discarded pizza box on top of the dumpster, and my mind raced as I quickly grabbed it, ignoring the ants that scattered away from my hand. I slowly pushed the gun away from the sleeping figure with my foot, hoping the sound wouldn't wake him.

I released a small breath as he stayed asleep, and I tipped the gun into the box with the edge of my shoe. Once it laid flat inside, I closed it with trembling fingers, pushing the cardboard flaps shut at the edges and hoping the lump it made against the top of the box wouldn't be noticeable to anybody. I lifted the lid of the dumpster, quietly depositing it inside.

I rang my hands and