Archive of Our Own ^beta

He had woken up early that morning to get his fix so it would kick in by the time he had to get ready for school. He also woke up early so he wouldn’t get caught (again.)

It was 5:30, his step dad was asleep, Matthew was asleep, and so was his mother. He didn’t have any money to get anything from his plug, but luckily his step dad had a prescription for hydrocodone. Brand name Vicodin. His mom had a prescription for Xanax, but she started hiding those a long time ago. It’s not like the safe ever stopped Alfred from sneaking in and taking a bunch, the combination was literally Arthur and hers anniversary. He used to forget it a lot so he just wrote it down in the notes app on his phone.

Arthur never hid the Vicodin, Alfred assumed it was because he wanted him to get in trouble. But his mother, Marianne, always excused it: “he must be hurting! We are out of ibuprofen, after all.” Then she would go get ibuprofen and Alfred would flush them all down the drain so if he got caught, he could say he was out.

Marianne was a great mother. A little immature at times, but a kind, stunning woman. She was very empathetic. Alfred would look down on anyone who took advantage of that, but when he did it, it was different. He had to. He had no other option. It’s not like he could ask her for Xanax and she’d hand the bottle over- well, she probably would to avoid hurting his feelings- but that’s wrong. He thought of himself as moral for the fact that he strictly gaslit her. When you’re addicted, you make excuses even when the excuses make no sense.

Drugs were what gave Alfred a genuine personality. When he was sober he was quiet, twitchy, awkward,

Unloveable.

When he got drunk or took something, it gave him confidence. It got him girls, friends, popularity, matter of fact he was known as the survivor. Why, you ask? He was on Xanax and drank five cans of bud light and lived to tell the tale. He was mainly referred to that way around his friends or at parties.

He didn’t do drugs to be cool, but being cool was kind of a side effect. But it’s one of the good side effects- like when his cousin got this antidepressant that also helped her lose weight. She was pretty healthy, but the meds gave her a boost.

Alcoholism ran in his family though, not depression. His birth father was always drunk. He would beat the shit out of Alfred and Matthew when they were little, and Alfred still has memories of him dragging their mom by the hair to the bedroom. Matthew took it worse. Once Marianne knew he was gay, she told their dad. She accepted it. He didn’t. Once they started school Matthew wasn’t allowed to have any male friends. Other parents didn’t want their girls being friends with a boy, so he was definitely isolated.

Every day when they got home from school, their father would show them pornography of women. Playboy mags. Alfred was straight, but these are six year old boys we’re talking about. They were both utterly disgusted at anyone with their shirts off and still firmly believed girls had cooties. But, they had to learn to say “yeah, she’s hot” because if they didn’t he’d get mad. They kinda just mocked what he told them to say. “You think she’s sexy?” “She turn you on?” They didn’t know what any of it meant until they got older.

But when they were older, it didn’t even matter. Their dad just up and left one day. Never looked back, hadn’t heard from him since.

Matthew struggled with internalized homophobia and hyper sexuality, Alfred struggled with drug abuse. But he’d never admit to it. He didn’t have a problem, he had a solution. Something that took his depression and anxiety away. Something that got his mind off of the stress that burdened him.

He stepped down the stairs slowly, making sure that it wouldn’t creak, then stepped into the kitchen. He glanced around the room that was dimly lit by a wax burner, taking a deep breath before stepping onto the hard wooden floor. He opened a cabinet, took a few pills, stuffed them into his pockets and creeped back up the stairs into his room. Alfred took four pills. They were ten milligrams a piece, but his tolerance was too high for just one.

Then he laid down and waited to feel something. About 30 minutes later, he sat up, exhaling gently. The euphoria it gave him was incomparable. He felt relaxed, not sleepy. He felt like he was in a dream. Almost as though he was just floating around, laying on a quiet blue sea. He didn’t have any worries. Nothing existed except for him, and the waters that were his bedsheets.

A feeling this good could cause world peace if everyone felt it. No more war, no more fighting, no more arguing, no one else, just you and your peace. He didn’t understand why people always told him to stay away from drugs. These pills were eye openers. He would never feel this good had Vicodin never been made.

Alfred just wished the feeling would last forever. But it couldn’t. It was ended when his mom opened the door and her soft voice called his name. “Alfred, baby, time for school. Come on, get up!” He heard her, but kept his eyes shut, hoping it would make her disappear. He also didn’t know if he’d imagined it or not.

“Alfred, come on. Don’t make me get Arthur.” He loudly exhaled, sitting up while attempting to maintain his balance. “Okay mama.” He smiled, blinking his eyes open. It was so bright. The sun was practically assaulting his pupils. Marianne just smiled and shut his door, leaving him to get dressed.

He stood up and immediately fell. He didn’t even catch himself. Hell, he didn’t even notice he had fallen until he opened his eyes again.

He was completely blind. He would excuse it as him tripping over something.

His mom instantly opened his door again, gasping and going to help him up. “Christ, Alfred, what happened?” “Mm, I tripped, glasses,” he extended his words. He felt like his hearing was out of sync with his speaking, so he had to wait on his words to echo back to him. Does that make sense? Everything made perfect sense to him in that moment. His mother? Not so much.

“…Alfred, are you okay?” She wanted to ask if he was high, but didn’t want to make him feel attacked. Alfred rolled over onto his back and stretched out, nodding at her. “Yeah, I’m good.. I’m slee-slept, fellen asleep late. Mhm.” That was what confirmed it. Marianne had to learn to not confront people, her first husband really put that belief system deep into her. She just bit her lip and sighed. “Alfred, you need to get up.” That was all she said before walking back out to go get Matthew, leaving his door open.

He just chuckled and sat up after what felt like forty five years (thirty seconds) and grabbed his glasses, using his bed as a crutch to stand up. He then stumbled to his closet to grab some clothes. He wore the same short sleeved yellow flannel every day, but he wore it like a jacket over a shirt. None of his friends knew why he didn’t just wear a full armed flannel. Alfred just didn’t care.

He threw on an old navy marvel shirt, washed out ripped jeans, his yellow flannel, and black converse high tops. It took him 20 minutes to get dressed because he was moving really slowly. He didn’t really have the concept of time at that moment.

Then him and Matthew walked down to the bus stop, Alfred’s headphones on blasting Good Charlotte.

His first period that day was gym. Instead of participating, him and his friend went behind the bleachers and smoked the life out of a fresh cart. His other friend had him covered- they sounded similar and sat close to each other, so when the coach called Alfred’s name, his friend would shout out “here.” The coach never noticed.

His second class, theatre. Alfred was a sophomore and didn’t really want to be in theatre. It was so interactive, and he was never in the state to interact with authority figures.

His peers had noticed him high before, never the teacher. Until today.

“So, today we’ll be practicing improv. We’ll be using the ABC technique, which means…” Alfred had his head down, eyes shut, zoned out thinking about how badly he wanted some KFC. ‘Fried chicken? Man, that shit would be orgasmic. Mashed potatoes, sweet tea, damn, you would think I was southern..’ he didn’t really eat much. Not because he didn’t want to, he would just forget. Unless he was just smoking weed, in which case it was easy to remember. But when he was on coke, he felt so powerful. Food is for the weak. He could survive without.

“…and I think Alfred should help me demonstrate!” Alfred sat up, sniffling and scratching his arm. “Hold on, what’s happening?” He asked, rubbing his eyes. The teacher heard what he said, and decided to humiliate him a little by making a gesture as though she was smoking a blunt. Then she put on a racist accent to say, “Maaan, we gon’ do a lil’ demonstration fo’ these mofo’s.” Alfred stared while the other students laughed. About half a minute later he responded. “What?” Everyone laughed except for her. “You heard me, bruh? We gon’ do suh’ ‘prov.”

He was beyond confused. “Okay,” he then put his head back down. “No, come up here.” She lost the accent and got serious. So Alfred got up, using every bit of focus he had in his body to walk like a human. The teacher then sat him in a chair right next to her, and went over the rules. “Okay, got it.” He kinda mumbled. He felt like he was talking really loud.

“So, the theme is, diffusing a bomb! You start us off, Alfred.” She glared at him with a sassy smile.

Alfred took a minute to think. He didn’t care about embarrassment. It was just coming up with words that was difficult. “Uh, are.. no, wait, yeah, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” He said to kick it off. “Bro, I’m higher than a kite right now. This is up to you.” The kids chuckled, and Alfred finally caught on. She was mocking him.

“Cunts like you wouldn’t even know where to begin.” He hissed at her with a stern expression, students gasping as the teacher stood up. “Cunt? You called me a cunt? A junkie like you has no right to insult me.” “Junkie? I don’t know what you’re on.” She cackled and walked over to get a Dean. “You come into my class high and dare to disrespect me.” Alfred stood up. “I’m not high. And even if I was, do they pay you enough to care?”

They went back and forth until a Dean came in. The kids took his side though,
confirming that the teacher was kind of being a dick. Alfred acted as sober as he could. He got off without reprehension.

Then his third period, art. Instead of going to class he went to the gym again, his friend having offered him heroin. No way in hell he’d say no to that. It was rare that he got hard drugs for free, he had to jump onto that opportunity. He always got weed for free. He would just get his friends super high then say he had to go somewhere, taking the rest of their weed with him.

So, he went out to the bleachers and met his friend. “Yo, heard about the drama with that theatre chick.” His friend chuckled, Alfred sighed and sat down as his friend cut up a line. “Yeah, she was mocking me. So I called her a cunt.” He smiled and they shared a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone really likes her.” Alfred was eyeing the line, waiting on his friend to stop talking. Which he eventually did. That’s what Alfred didn’t like about this guy. When he smoked, he didn’t shut up. When Alfred smoked, he didn’t talk enough. But this guys shit was the best he’d ever had, so he tolerated him.

They did what they did until the lunch bell rang and went their separate ways to meet their friends.

But Alfred wasn’t meeting his friend at lunch.

She was perfect. She had a beautiful body, a heart stopping face, magnificent eyes, and a voice that made Alfred fall to his knees every time she opened her mouth. He didn’t know why she bothered with him. She had so much going for her and she chose him. He would never be able to comprehend it.

He saw her in her green overalls and doc martins walking up to him with a wide smile, her platinum blonde hair (with pastel pink streaks) flowing behind her in a ponytail. She was so beautiful. He couldn’t find words to express it if he tried.

“Hey, what’s up?” She said with her thick Russian accent, grabbing his hand to pull him into a hug. He smiled like an idiot before hugging her back. She smelled like lavender… it was so relaxing, it made him feel so warm and fuzzy inside. “You.” He would have picked her up, but he could barely hold himself up straight. He wasn’t just holding onto her because he loved her, he was scared that he would fall over and embarrass himself in front of her.

Anya took a deep breath. He was high. She hated how often he did drugs.

The night they met, she probably should have guessed.

—

“No, Elliot.” “Come on, babe, just the tip?” “I am already telling you no.” He sighed, getting off from the position he had been in- pinning Anya to the kitchen counter. It was crowded. Some junior was throwing a party, Anya’s ‘friend’ at the time wanted to go. He was a junior, Anya was a freshman.

He stepped away from her, walking up to his friend to whine about it. Then walking up to her again about 20 minutes later with a drink in his hand. “Could, uh, we drink a bit?” Anya looked at the drink, then back to him. “Elliot, I-“ “drink it. Let’s get drunk, then talk about it.” Anya was for sure hesitant. She didn’t know if she wanted to accuse him of drugging her. But he probably would.

The first time they had sex, Anya had given him a blowjob and he said he wouldn’t finish if she didn’t let him fuck her. She was down to give him head. But full on intercourse, no. She tried to tell him that, but he called her a slut and said she was a horrible person for leaving him with blue balls. It’s not that he wasn’t attractive and nicely sized. She just didn’t want to. It’s a good reason to say no, but she felt bad about reinforcing the boundary.

So, it became a regular thing. He started bringing condoms to school so he could fuck her there, even though she also set the boundary of not wanting to do it at school.

He also disrespected her brother. Her brother was all she had, Erich was pretty much her dad. They didn’t live with their parents. Abuse, blah blah blah, ran away to america when Anya was 11. She loved her brother, and her little brother, Kolya. But she couldn’t say anything without Elliot getting pissed at her and calling her names.

She only ever actually consented to it, like, twice. All the other times were for his pleasure. She hated it. And she had a feeling he was trying to get her drunk so he could take advantage of it. She just ignored him and looked off into the distance, trying to avoid the smell of his breath that was clearly alcohol.

He stared at her with the drink in his hand for at least a minute before grabbing her face and trying to pour it down her throat. “You could’ve just fucking drank it, slut…” she was trying to keep her lips pressed shut. And just as she was about to surrender, Elliot stopped. A blonde guy, glasses, yellow flannel, 5’11 stood there saying “what the fuck man?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Elliot asked, throwing the glass on the floor. The shattering didn’t catch anyones attention, the music was too loud and it was too crowded. The guy set down his red solo cup, then awkwardly tucked his fists into his pockets. “I just, I think she said no.” He chuckled, glancing at Anya who was staring at him as though he just saved her life. He probably did, to be quite honest.

This guy was clearly drunk, so Anya was confused on why he wasn’t supporting Elliot in abusing her. Normally guys would high five him or some shit. But, he stopped it and defended her.

Elliot was 6’1. He wasn’t very strong but his arms looked pretty muscular, so he was intimidating. Alfred looked like a twink in comparison to him. If they threw down, Alfred would probably get fucked up, but it would totally be a sweet gesture.

“I don’t want a fuckin’ moral compass from a faggot.” Alfred bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t really an angry drunk. To be honest, he was kinda the same. Just more confidence.

“I hate to tell you, but I’m not gay,” Alfred giggled, leaning on the counter and smiling. “And that term is considered offensive. Unless you can reclaim it? What are your pronouns?” That was something Alfred had learned from his gay friends. When someone acts homophobic, gaslight them into thinking they’re gay.

Anya was flabbergasted. Her jaw was dropped and she was trying not to smile. That would piss Elliot off.

Elliot was ready to beat him up. Some drunk 15 year old trying to step to him and tell him what he could and couldn’t do made him mad. It also made him mad that he called him gay.

“My pronouns are fuck and you, yours are gonna be it/it’s once I’m done beating your faggot ass to a pulp.” “You gotta watch what you say. You say you’re straight, then then refer to me as an object which could be taken sexually…” Elliot let go of Anya and got all up in Alfred’s bubble, clearly trying to assert his masculinity.

Elliot was one of those guys with a sharp jawline and a bleached perm he never brushes. He also wore a wife beater and was really white, never really went outside. He acted insanely homophobic for no reason. Trump supporter. Andrew Tate’s biggest fan. Point is, no one really liked him. A lot of people knew what he did to Anya but they didn’t see it as an issue. Just men being men, and that’s sad.

“You wanna fuckin’ fade, jit?” Anya didn’t want Alfred to get hit. Not after what he just did for her. But he reached over and grabbed his cup, taking one more large gulp of liquid courage before sighing and twisting his face into an alcohol induced grimace. “No, but if you fuckin’ touch me then you’ll regret it.” Alfred just smiled, his face red from the cheap booze they were handing out.

Elliot didn’t take that kindly, and was about to swing before Anya grabbed his arm. “Hey, he’s not worth it. I think there’s something else you can hit.” She didn’t want to fuck him, but she also didn’t want Alfred to get beat up. She was willing to take the loss on this one.

Elliot glared at Alfred before coiling an arm around Anya and calling him a faggot again as they walked away.

Later that night, Alfred was sitting on the curb outside of the house, drunk off his ass smoking a cigarette. All his friends were off with other people so he was flying solo. He was still a little upset about what almost happened earlier, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. She was really pretty.. he had just been making a deal with his plug when he overheard the conversation. If he could prevent something, he would.

He knew what Anya pulled Elliot off to do. That’s what pissed him off the most, that he only seemed to want that girl for sex. If he really like her then he wouldn’t have pressured her. If they liked each other then there would be a mutual respect. Rape isn’t respect, god, it’s nowhere near it.

Anya had been looking around the whole house for the guy that helped her with a whole bottle of wine that she stole from a cellar. It looked expensive, but she didn’t really know. She just saw him drinking and assumed he was into that stuff.

She had almost given up her search when she went outside until she saw a yellow and blue flannel. “Блин!” She exclaimed, running over and almost falling as she slid down to sit next to him. She looked at his face, he looked just like the guy she saw earlier. It was him.

Alfred hazily twisted his head to look at her, blinking a couple times to make sure he was seeing things correctly. It was that girl…

“Hi.” Anya said, a dark red blush painting across her face. She suddenly had nothing to say, though she spent the last hour thinking about it. Alfred smiled, extending his knees from his chest out onto the road. “Hey. You good?” He asked, a wide smile on his face. His words slurred together so Anya had to take a minute to understand what he said.

“Yes, yeah, am fine. Y-You good?” The first thing Alfred noticed in this moment was how pretty her voice was. He tried to take further notice of more smaller details and found a lot. She smelled like lavender, her hair was a beautiful platinum color, her outfit (a my chemical romance crop top and baggy sweatpants), her eyes, her lips, her nose,… she was perfect. Normally he wouldn’t outwardly say that, but being under the influence…

“You’re so pretty, that guy’s too-“ he coughed, “-too fuckin’, fuckin’ ugly for you.” Anya’s eyes widened. She was flattered. She liked being called pretty, Elliot always called her sexy or hot, or made comments on her boobs. She fucking hated him.

“And,” he extended the word and said it melodically, “you smell really good. Is that weird? You smell like lavender.” He giggled and so did she. “You smell like alcohol,” she said quietly, setting the bottle of wine down. Alfred snickered, then realized he didn’t have her name. “Hey, how do you say… what’s your name, in your language? You, uh, sound Russian, but I could be wrong.”

Anya smiled. “I am Russian, it would be как вас зовут.” Alfred laid back onto the hard concrete sidewalk, laughing and looking at the night sky. “Cock? Cock vahs zuvoot?” His accent was horrible and borderline offensive but Anya bet it slide. She just giggled. “My name is Anya. You?” Alfred looked at her and gave a peace sign. “Alfred. Your name is so pretty. You’re pretty.” He was adorable. He was an utter sweetheart with a cute face and cuter glasses.

“Thank you. Alfred is cute as well.” She laid back on the sidewalk with him. “I have to go home soon.” Alfred rolled his head to the side to look at her with a pout. “Can I come with? Pinky swear, I’ll be quiet.” Without thinking, Anya said yes. It was really a no brainer.

So, Alfred got on the back of her bike and she took him to her house. It was on a cute road, but the house was really small. Two bed, one bath, really old. Anya just kicked the bike off in front of the house and sneakily opened the door. Alfred was smiling like a dork, he had no sexual intent and neither did Anya, really.

Anya pulled him into a room down the hallway, it was dark with a bunch of posters, fairy lights wrapped in vines, tapestries, and purple LEDs. It was messy in an aesthetic way. She had a big bed with thick dark purple sheets.

Alfred immediately flopped on the bed while Anya changed into some pajamas. Then she turned on Markiplier and laid next to him, letting him rest his head on her chest. He fell asleep really quickly, Anya was up for a couple hours binging the FNAF series.

The next morning, Anya woke up first and didn’t want to wake him up. She suddenly found herself with regrets about letting him stay over. What if he was only nice because he was drunk? That’s was a lot of people did, but this was a man. A man that went to her school. She didn’t mean to be misandristic, but most of the boys at her school were horrible people.

Alfred was passed out for another two hours after she woke up, cuddled up to her chest with his arm lazily wrapped around her waist. Anya had taken off his glasses and set them on the nightstand so he wouldn’t lose them or break them.

It was about 9:45 in the morning when he woke up, sleepily blinking his eyes open and looking up at her. He couldn’t really see her or remember much, but he had a few vague images of her from the night prior. “Glasses,” he mumbled in a whisper, Anya looked at him for a moment before nodding and handing him his glasses.

He sat up and put them on. Then, with his proper vision, he looked at her. “Good morning.” Anya softly whispered, smiling away the soft pink blush that was spread across her cheeks. Alfred’s face turned red as he heard her speak; her voice was so gentle, it was very fitting to her appearance.

“G-Good morning,” his ears were spasming a little. Alfred had tourettes, he got diagnosed when he was 8. He had motor and vocal tics so when he had a vocal one, his father would tell him to shut up. Or hit him when it didn’t stop. Arthur didn’t believe he had tourettes either even though he had a diagnosis from a doctor.

He had met many a many people who faked tourettes in his day. People that only do it when everyone is paying attention to them so they can gain popularity. It always annoyed him. It happened to him at the least convenient times, like when his ex broke up with him and he damn near broke his shoulders. Or when he was in class, “shut up, bitch,” and the teacher sent him to the Dean even though he explained his condition. He got detention for no reason.

“How are you sleep?” She and him were still close up, Anya had butterflies dancing around in her stomach as though they were about to fly out through her mouth. He looked like he had a rough night, he had bed head and was really pale. Well, not pale, red. He looked hungover.

Alfred’s heart dropped when she spoke, he inhaled sharply as he tried to think of how to respond. “Uh, I…- I slept alright,” He could smell her breath up this close, and that made him realize that she could also smell his. He didn’t want his impression on her to be the guy with shitty beer breath. That would be embarrassing. He got out from under the covers and stood up. Every movement he made was followed by Anya’s daunting violet eyes, it was intimidating. He just stood there awkwardly, thinking of what to say.

“So, are you feeling okay? As in, hungover?” Anya was a very sweet woman. She would give him ibuprofen or Tylenol if he said yes, get him some water, and let him sleep in her bed. “Just a little bit,” he chuckled and sat back down on the opposite end of the bed.

“I get you some water, hold on,” then she stood up and walked out of the room, cracking the door behind her.

As soon as he saw she was gone, he felt himself down searching for pills or anything that would give him a buzz. All he found was thirty bucks that he was going to give to his plug for heroin and one bag. It was ten dollars a bag because he was having an end-of-school-year discount. School would let out in less than a month, so he was stocking up while the offer lasted.

The bag was really small and he was supposed to get more, but didn’t want to leave Anya to get raped by some dude who looked like he regularly smoked crystal meth.

So, while Anya was out getting stuff to help his possible headache, he was trying to get some up his nose. He lined it up on his index finger and sniffed it up as fast as he could, stuffing the now half full baggy into his pocket.

He sneezed as quietly as he possibly could. She already saw him drinking, he could live with that. But snorting something? That was probably unforgivable, especially in her home.

He laid back on the bed afterwards and waited for it to kick in. It took less than a minute for the high to come on, and as soon as it did, he felt better. He had that sudden relaxed feeling and felt like he could speak.

He scooted up to have his back on the frame of the bed and took a few deep breaths to collect himself. The worst part about heroin was how oblivious it made you. Suddenly, you don’t know what’s going on and have to use all your energy to focus on something basic. Like holding your head up. Heroin makes you kind of nod in and out of reality. That was what scared him; she would know he was high if he didn’t, well, act right.

Anya walked back in with a cup of iced water and a pill, ibuprofen. It was one little tablet because she didn’t know how much to actually give someone.

She saw Alfred sat up just staring at the muted TV. She assumed that he didn’t want to turn the volume up without her permission, so she chuckled and set the cup down to turn up the volume.

When the volume came on, Alfred jumped and looked around before noticing Anya and chuckling. “I, uh, got you ibuprofen.” She said after chuckling with him, sitting down on the bed to hand it to him.

Alfred took the pill from her hand and blinked a couple times before putting it in his mouth under his tongue and swallowing. “Thank you,” he said with a little voice crack.

Alfred had a pretty masculine voice, if he did say so himself. He’d already gone through the voice crack era and it wasn’t a thing that happened anymore. So, you can imagine Anya’s confusion when his voice cracked like it did.

And he didn’t even notice.

Then he fell back onto the pillows, smiling with closed eyes as he adjusted the rest of his body to get comfortable. “Alfred, you good?” He was acting differently and it was clear to see. She didn’t know what changed because she’d never met him before the night prior.

He suddenly decided to spill the beans. He knew that she knew and didn’t want her to think that was how he normally acted; he’d only done pure heroin three times before this.

To say it was his favorite drug would be an understatement. It brought a perfect euphoria that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Vicodin worked when he didn’t have actual opioids. He also liked Xanax, ketamine, Benadryl, LCD, meth (he only did it once, doesn’t want to do it again), and ecstasy. He saw ecstasy as something he’d only do by himself. It would be a really awkward thing to be on with a bunch of your friends.

Cocaine wasn’t his thing. He tried it twice because it sucked the first time and he hoped it would be better if he did it with a friend, but it still sucked. He thought that if you were going to take something then you should take something that chills you out.

Anyways,

“I may have taken..-“ his face flushed red, “- heroin.”

Anya’s eyebrows shot up. Out of everything she expected, that wasn’t it. “Heroin?” She hung out with a lot of dealers but never bought anything. Most of them just sold weed but she knew one guy that sold acid.

Alfred nodded without opening his eyes. Her blackout curtains were a godsend, he was so happy that the room was dark.

Then, Anya followed with something he didn’t expect either.

“…if you have any left, I could take some too? We may be high together?”

“Have you ever done it before?” He asked, sitting up.

“No.”

“That’s cool, I’ll show you.”

Getting high with him was an experience. They talked for hours about how Coca Cola was made, then watched a bunch of videos on it. They were giggling the whole time.

Anya wasn’t an addict by any means. She only ever tried drugs (by her own will) because of Alfred. Yeah, she’d smoked and drank before, but she’d never even considered heroin.

—

She pulled away from the hug, taking a deep breath and putting on a smile. “Alfred, I love you, but you need to sober up.” He just laughed and took her hand again, walking her to the place they normally sat at. “Maybe when pigs fly.” He slid down on the wall and Anya followed, biting the inside of her cheek and sitting next to him, cuddling into the crook of his neck.

People always asked her why she was with him. Even Alfred asked it.

“That junkie?” “You’re with a crackhead?” “You know he’s like, addicted to fucking heroin, right? Are you high too?” “Can’t you see?”

Sometimes Anya asked herself the same question. She couldn’t place her finger on exactly why she loved him as much as he did. They’d been together for six months and he’d been high for a lot of it.

She also wondered if she knew sober Alfred.

To be fair, he wondered who sober Alfred was, too.

All her friends tell her she can do better. If she had a penny for every time someone told her to leave him, she’d probably have a million dollars. But she couldn’t. She’d cried herself to sleep thinking about a world without him.

That threat of him not being there was something that happened very often.

She would regularly get these texts saying he was probably about to die from people he’d do drugs with.

‘Yo you alfreds chick right?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘this boy done od’d 😭😭 I’m sorry bro but he dead’

Every time she got one of those texts she would make her brother give her a ride to wherever Alfred said he was at that night, she’d basically break down the door just to find out he was on fentanyl and passed out.

Fentanyl.

Alfred fucking loved it.

That’s what absolutely horrified her.

Maybe one day it wouldn’t be a text from his friend and it would be a call from his mother. “Anya, I’m so sorry, Alfred overdosed and flatlined.” She didn’t know if she’d be able to live with herself if that happened.

If she could go back and redo everything, she didn’t know if she’d still want to have met him.

She loved him. Alfred was insanely in love with her. But she couldn’t tell.

She’d tried to hang out with sober Alfred. They went to the fair, she begged him to stay sober for just one day.

—

“Do you want to get on the Ferris wheel? We could kiss at top like cheesy couple.” “Yeah, of course.”

Alfred wasn’t feeling so good. Anya asked him to be sober that morning and he agreed. He had been around her sober before, but that was before he started regularly taking heroin and Vicodin. Before, it was maybe once a week. At this point it was every day.

He felt cold, but was burning up. He wasn’t wearing his flannel. He was wearing an old sweater he found in his closet after hours of frantically searching.

The Wisconsin air was warm at its peak of 80 Fahrenheit this summer. Anya didn’t think withdrawal would set in this fast, it had been less than a day since last use.

But Alfred, his mind was on heroin. He couldn’t focus on Anya. He couldn’t focus on his surroundings. His mouth was watering with the craving. He never wanted it this badly before and it felt fucking awful.

He didn’t bring any with him. He was dedicated to toughing it out for her. She was the most important thing in his life, he didn’t want to fuck it up by wimping out and snorting a line. Being high is temporary. Anya, god, he wished she was forever. She filled him with more serotonin and dopamine than any drug.

“Alfred, I have to use the bathroom first. Come on.” She looked up at the taller guy with a smile, grabbing his hand and pulling him along to the bathroom.

She was so cute. He loved her little legs and the cute way she sprinted.

He didn’t really think he had anything that she admired.

After the walk across the fair to the bathroom area, she saw the line. It was a long ass line for the family bathroom so she’d have to use the women’s bathroom. That meant Alfred couldn’t go in with her.

She sighed and bit her lip. “Okay, I’m going to use the restroom, I’ll be out as soon as possible.” She looked at him and squeezed his hand gently. Alfred tried to focus on her, he really did.

“Alfie, I’m really thankful that you doing this for me.” Her hand slid up his arm to his neck, her other hand copying on the other side. She then pulled him down to her lips to kiss him.

He took in the moment before she pulled away, forehead to forehead.

“Doin’ what? It’s no big deal.” He smiled and kissed her again. He wanted her to be at ease. The last thing he would want is for her to feel bad for him. Plus, he would just do it once he got home! That was just a few hours away, maybe less. He was looking forward to it. And, once he got high, he could call her and basically hang out over the phone. That’s what calls are for, right?

Anya giggled and kissed his forehead before skipping off to the bathroom. Alfred leaned against the trailer they were standing by, finally trying to get rid of the symptoms that were showing by rubbing his arms. He was freezing but burning alive at the same time.

He didn’t know how much longer he could take it. He wished someone would just walk up and shoot him, put him out of this pain he was enveloped in.

No one came up to shoot him, but someone came up to help him.

“Yo, Alfred. You look like shit.” He looked up and saw that it was his plug. That was when Anya didn’t matter anymore.

“Shit, I don’t have much money, but I’m begging you. Anything you have, please, man,” if he had to drop to his knees and suck his dick, he totally would. He needed it.

He needed it.

He needed it.

“Chill, bruh. Shit, I got heroin? Just powder, you the guy that’s into that shit though, right?” “Hell yeah, how much?” “You look desperate so let’s go with five.”

He was desperate. Then he started thinking of Anya.

He was about to reach into his pocket for his wallet before remembering his oath to her. He paused, then sighed, making the guy raise a brow.

“What’s the problem?” He paused. Alfred bit his lip, trying to think of what to tell him. “Listen, if you can’t pay then jus’ pay me next time you buy.” Alfred shook his head. “No, that’s not the problem. I just- I promised my girl that I’d be sober tonight.”

The guy nodded before chuckling and handing him the bag, keeping his palm open for the money. “Alf, jus’ act sober. You a smart kid, just deny, deny, deny.” He groaned softly, his mouth watering as he looked at the baggy.

“I just don’t wanna lie to her.” “You also don’t want withdrawal.” “Yeah! Shit, well,” then he racked his brain for any excuse he could make for acting funny. “Tell her you’re tired. Or guilt trip that bitch, tell her the withdrawals are fuckin’ with you.” Alfred shrugged.

“Nah, I’ll just say I’m tired.” The two shared a laugh before Alfred handed him the money. Then he lined it up on his finger, sniffing it up. Then he did another with the remainder.

“Thanks bro, good lu-“ “Yes, good fucking luck, Alfred.” The two men turned their heads to see… Anya. Cropped wife beater, baggy ripped jeans, red converse, ponytail.

shit.

“Anya, I-“ the plug just turned and walked away, still laughing to himself. Anya wasn’t worried about him. She was pissed at Alfred. “You said you’d stay sober tonight!” He sighed and squatted down, rubbing his face. “Anya, I was getting really bad withdrawals. I had to.” Her jaw dropped at his audacity.

“Then you.. god! I fucking hate English!” She proceeded to say something in Russian, frantically trying to translate it. “Then you could have fucking told me! I not have made you stay! We could have go home and do something else!” She had a tear slip down her cheek.

She was on her period, so everything was worse than it actually was.

And it always chipped away a piece of Alfred’s heart when she cried.

“Baby, don’t cry, please,” he stood up, using the trailer as a crutch as he reached out for her arm. She stepped back, a few people turning their heads at the sight of a girl crying and a boy who was hella out of it.

“No. Why you not are just say to me?” He tried to decipher the broken sentence without asking what she tried to say. He didn’t want to upset her further. But, his brain wasn’t working right, so he was at a loss for words already.

He looked at her and smiled, blinking to keep his eyes open. “Babe, I’m telling you, I was hurting. I didn’t want to burden you.” He tried as hard as he could to comfort her since his previous idea for a fib to tell her wouldn’t work anymore.

“Everyone tells me this.. yes, this things about you! And I am not ever listening!” She rubbed her dripping mascara off of her face. “But they seem true now!” “Please don’t..” “I am your женщина. I want to help you. But you not let me.” Then she turned around, adjusting her bag and walking away.

He just stood there for a second before turning around and punching the trailer. “God fucking damn it,” he whispered, then turned to walk into the opposite direction to catch up with his plug.

He took Xanax that night and almost stopped breathing.

TJ, 1:22 a.m.: yo anya u up?

Anya, 1:23 a.m.: yea

TJ, 1:25 a.m.: ur boyfriend is fucking dead lol

Anya, 1:25 a.m.: what the fuck are you talking about?????

TJ, 1:26 a.m.: he’s like not breathing

TJ, 1:26 a.m.: oh nah my bad he breathin but barely lol

Anya, 1:27 a.m.: give me the address I’ll be over as soon as possible

TJ, 1:28 a.m.: bet lemme ask my friend

Anya, 1:30 a.m.: what is taking so long please hurry up I’m fucking panic

TJ, 1:31 a.m.: shit my bad I forgot

TJ, 1:32 a.m.: aight it’s ———

Anya had her permit. She was a really good driver, but couldn’t drive alone. She knew there was no way in hell her brother would let her drive his car, so she had to sneak out.

She grabbed his keys off of the little rack and quietly opened the door, sneaking into his car and driving off.

Her heart was beating out of her chest. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She felt like she was about to throw up.

‘Damn,’ she thought, ‘Alfred’s withdrawals couldn’t compare to this,’ of course she didn’t mean it. She was just terrified.

When she got to the place, she pulled the car into the driveway and hopped out, not bothering to shut the door behind her. Then she banged on the door until someone opened it.

“Yo, we’ll put him in the back, that ight?” She nodded frantically, going to clear out the back of the car. She took off the hoodie she was wearing and balled it up, putting it on the other end to be a pillow. She was left in a sports bra but at that time Alfred’s safety was more important than anything.

Then two guys walked out, crutching Alfred to carry him to the car. All she heard was the grunting of the guys before they laid him in the backseat. He looked dead, as though they were carrying a corpse.

There was basically a corpse in the backseat who had no clue what was happening, who he was with or where he was.

“Alfred, I’m going to take you to my house,” she said as she got into the drivers seat, looking back at him. He didn’t even move. He didn’t have his glasses, Anya assumed he’d lost those and the guys didn’t notice.

“He hasn’t been responding for an hour now. Thas’ why we called you.” She felt a sharp pain in her heart when he said that, so she just nodded and shut the doors before pulling out and turning on the radio. She pulled up to a stop sign a few blocks away, then stopped. She pulled over and took the keys out of the ignition, her playlist still quietly playing.

She took a minute to think about what to say before actually talking.

“You can’t even hear me right now, can you?” No response.

She looked in the mirror at him for a moment before rubbing her face and letting the tears drip from her eyes. “Alfred, you’re fucking killing me!” She whispered between a few sobs. “You drive me fucking nuts. A-And I keep wishing you wake one day knowing your worth, but you do not.” She reached back, feeling around for his hand. She found it and squeezed it, but felt a slight resistance. It wasn’t strong at all. Then, he mumbled something.

“Mm, I … gir…” she didn’t catch anything from that sentence.

(Alfred didn’t know what was happening. He wanted to say, “don’t touch me, I have a girlfriend” but it didn’t come out at all.)

She just pulled her hand away and banged her head on the steering wheel. “I cannot keep getting this texts, Alfred. I am going to have fucking stroke! I wish we never fucking met, but I don’t… I love you, Alfred. I love you! And you don’t even know what is happening!”

“S-her.. preeettyy~” “I hate you!”

“Alfred, I hate you!

You are fucking drug addict and you will be death of me!

No, you will be death of yourself!

I not want to lose you, I love you too much to see you leave.

I want to be your wife, not your widow.”

Alfred only heard her voice, he didn’t know what she was saying. Heard her voice? That’s a stretch. He was out of it. He was on a different planet.

“Pretty… vvvvv-oink. Heh.” With that ‘heh’ went his breath. He didn’t inhale for what felt like hours. That’s what made Anya start bawling her eyes out.

She just sat there, mascara covering her cheeks, eyes red from all the tears.

Then coffee breath came on the radio.

She tried to stop her sobbing when she heard silent humming from the backseat. His lips were barely moving but she heard him trying to sing along to the song.

She glanced at the radio, then back to him. Every time she hears the song, she would text him something sweet. Or if he was with her, she’d kiss him. It was their song. No, it was his song.

“…you got those big blue eyes, drive me crazy, make me fantasize about you baby,” she whispered, sniffling between words as she stared at him.

The humming she heard was the reminder that she had to keep trying to get him to sober up.

“Fuck,” she whispered once the song ended, looking back in the mirror at herself. “You’ll feel better in the morning, sunshine.”

Then she started the car again and drove him back to her place. She had to carry him inside, which was difficult because he was so much bigger than her. She put in the effort and got it done, though.

She laid him in her bed, changing his clothes into pajamas he had left over. It definitely took a lot of work, but she did it and was happy to do so. She would talk to him in the morning about it.

And she did.

He didn’t listen.

—

She started crying. Just the thought of these instances and how they happened made her sad.

What made her even sadder was that Alfred didn’t want to change. He would continue doing this shit to his grave, which would probably be soon. And she couldn’t let him go.

Alfred noticed her crying after a moment and kissed the top of her head, lifting her face up by her chin to look at her. “What’s wrong, gorgeous?” He had a beautiful smile. That was one of Anya’s favorite features about him; his beautiful smile.

She could list off every feature she loved from head to toe with ease.

His pretty wheat blonde hair.
His stunning blue eyes.
His strong nose.
His thin lips.
His sharp jawline.
His soft neck.
His broad shoulders.
His toned chest and abdomen.
His muscular arms.
His rough hands.
His long legs.
His cute feet.
And, everything in between.

Everything about him was perfect, but he would never see himself in the light she did. She wished he saw himself the way she saw him. She saw a light in him. She knew there was a part of him that wanted to be sober, that wanted to get older and learn how to exist as a functioning human without narcotics and opioids. She’d never met that Alfred.

She had learned to not bring it up after what happened at the fair. She knew he felt like shit about it. But he was too anxious to admit it and she was too scared to ask.

Anya didn’t even know what to say when he asked what was wrong. All she could do was stare into his eyes through the thin sheets of glass that aided his vision.

“I love you.” She whispered, wiping her face and scooting up to press her lips to his.

Alfred was too out of it to notice the cue that, that wasn’t what she wanted to say. He just kissed her back while still cupping his face with his warm palm. “I love you more, buttercup,”

That was another thing she loved about him.

Buttercup, darling, sugar, sweetheart, babe, baby, sweetness, love,.. she loved his pet names that he’d bestow upon her. They always tied her stomach up in knots and made her lose her mind.

Speaking of losing her mind, they’d only had sex a few times. Like, actual sex. They’d done other things on multiple different occasions.

That was the coolest thing about Alfred that added to her list of reasons of him being better than Elliot. He never pressured her into sex.

Every time, it was consensual. She wanted to do it and so did he. But he was rarely sober when it happened.

But, when he was sober for it, it felt infinitely better. Just the knowledge that he wasn’t only doing it due to his intoxication and heightened libido brought her more comfort in saying yes and acting with enthusiasm.

Lunch went by quick, Alfred was practically passed out the whole time, enjoying his high.

Then he had his fourth block, math.

Alfred was a genuinely smart kid. He was a sophomore in calculus II honors passing with a 100% in the class. He passed science and English with no issue, an A in both classes. But his level in mathematics tended to shock people.

The boy was always on drugs and was doing better than most of the school sober.

He didn’t really mind school because he had no issues passing! And, he got to meet his friends and his girlfriend every day! If anything, school was the best place ever. Drugs, friends, and free food.

When he went home, he went straight to his room. He had to buy some drugs from his plug; he didn’t have anything at home except his parents’ stuff.

His parents’ stuff!

Shit, but his step dad was in the living room. He couldn’t sneak into the kitchen, especially since he was high. Well, the high was wearing off now.

He only had five dollars which wasn’t enough for anything except shitty weed or a pack of cigarettes. Cigarettes didn’t really ever do anything for him.

He started off smoking cigs, but then he got offered weed. After he got adjusted to marijuana, he started smoking heroin. He quickly found out he preferred snorting it- after heroin, he tried all sorts of different things. Benadryl, ketamine, crack, meth, fentanyl- fentanyl!

God, fentanyl’s cheap!

But did he really want to do that on a school night? He sighed to himself before texting his plug and climbing out of his window to go down the block to meet him.

He waited by a stop sign until his plug pulled up in a black Tesla. He pulled out his five dollar bill before being waved at.

“Alfred, get in. Got an offer for you.”

He looked at the man for a good minute. He’d been buying from this guy for about seven months now, they’d gotten high together a couple times. He was some 32 year old meth head selling home made drugs with his 19 year old girlfriend. They both looked much older; Alfred could see what the drugs did to them, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t let himself get that fucked up.

“I actually just wanted t-“ he was cut off by the guys girlfriend. “Oh my god, just get in the car! He’s literally giving you free shit.”

She sounded fucked up.

But, nevertheless, Alfred hopped into the backseat of the car anyways.

“So, I might be gettin’ raided soon.” Alfred wanted to say that it wasn’t his problem, but he decided to hear him out. “Okay,”

“I got hella fentanyl righ’ now, tryna get it off my hands ‘fore this shit go down.” The man chuckled as he aimlessly drove around Alfred’s neighborhood. Alfred couldn’t really see where this was going. He didn’t expect to be in possession of a fuck ton of fentanyl tonight.

“So, where do I come in? If I do…”

Then the guy stopped the car. His girlfriend threw her roach out the window while he reached into the dashboard, pulling out a bag of pills. They were very colorful, looked like fentanyl. Then he just threw it in the backseat to be caught by Alfred.

“I know you and yo’ heroin-head self, you fuck wit’ fent I assume, since you payin’.” His brows shot up. “Yeah, I can pay for like, one pill, but there’s no way in hell I can afford all this.” “That’s the point,” the guy started, “you don’t gotta pay. You just gotta get rid of it.”

Alfred stared. He wasn’t gonna take all of them, unless he meant to give it to his friends. “Listen, I don’t wanna do any dealin’.” “You don’t gotta. My point, Alf, I fuck wit’ you. This is my late birthday present. When was you born?”

“July fourth.” It was October.

“Shiit, well, happy Halloween.”

Alfred sat there, staring at the bag for a moment. There were many ways that this could play out- he could get shot, he could hop out and run, or he could bargain.

If he’s taking these death pills off of his hands, then he could maybe ask for something to go with it. Heroin or Benadryl. This guy sold it all, so he was willing to ask.

That was the risk; what if he didn’t like that Alfred asked and he got shot? This felt too deep for him to get involved with. He didn’t know what to do.

But, his addiction spoke for him.

“… well i can’t regularly use fentanyl. So, for my five dollars, could I maybe… get happy Halloween heroin? Or Vicodin? Or, Benadryl, shit, anything like heroin.”

Adder (the plug) looked at Alfred in the rear view mirror, then shrugged. “Man, you gon’ rob me dry.” He dryly laughed, Alfred awkwardly mimicked. “Well,.. you know.”

Adder took a minute of looking at his girlfriend with a fucked yellow blinged out smile before reaching into her purse and getting some powder from a Tupperware container with a little measuring spoon. Then, he put it into a small plastic baggy. It was a lot.

“Dude, I said five,-“ “I know, jit. Take what I’m giving you and be grateful.” He cowered back into his seat and waited for him to finish bagging it up.

“You sure you don’t wanna try injecting?” Alfred scoffed. “Fuck no.”

Then once he was done, he handed it off to Alfred. “Where you live again?” Adder asked, starting the car up again and heading back in the direction they came. Alfred gave him his address and told him to pull up by the back of his house.

He hopped out of the car with the bags stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie. As he was about to hop the fence to get back inside, Adder called his name.

“Ay, Alfred!” He shouted over the loud music that was pretty much going to break the speakers. He turned his head to look back at Adder, taking his foot off of the fence to be flat on the ground.

“Don’t die, jit,” they looked at each other for a minute before he cackled and rolled up the window and rolled off. Alfred hopped the fence and climbed the tree to get back into his bedroom.

He spent a good thirty minutes staring at the two bags- the heroin and the fentanyl.

It wasn’t what he expected to happen.

Doing fentanyl was something he could excuse to cops as addiction, but being in possession of this much was something that he couldn’t excuse.

He didn’t want to deal it out. He knew how deadly it was and didn’t want to be the reason one of his friends overdosed. Maybe he could pass it off to someone else to sell.

He didn’t want to go down this path, that’s for damn sure.

But he also didn’t want Adder to know that he gave the whole bag of fentanyl to someone Adder didn’t know.

He tried to think if he could just take the whole bag of pills- but fentanyl, even just one tablet, is a fucking death wish.

There wasn’t really anyone he could talk to about this issue. He couldn’t tell him mom, he’d get kicked out. Obviously can’t tell his step dad.

Matthew!

But what would Matthew think?

To be fair, they are twins, so he probably already knows.

He shoved the bag under his bed, then put the heroin in a coat pocket in his closet. He then stepped out of his room and went next door to Matthew’s. He knocked on the door a little frantically just to be told ‘hold on.’ It was opened a minute later by his lookalike staring back at him.

“What?” Matt asked, stepping out and shutting his door behind him. “I need advice, c’mon,” he waved Matthew to follow him to his room.

Matthew quirked a brow and adjusted his glasses before following his brother and shutting the door behind himself as he walked into his siblings room. “‘Sup?”

Alfred took a deep breath before reaching under his bed for the bag, not pulling it out yet. “So, uh, you swear not to snitch?”

Matthew took this opportunity. “As long as you don’t tell mom and Arthur there’s a guy in my room.”

Alfred stared for a good minute before shrugging. “Yeah, sure,” “Okay, then what’s up? Make it quick.”

Alfred quickly pulled out the bag of pills. Matthew groaned and turned to walk out before being told to wait. “Matthew, I don’t wanna do them, I just need advice.” “No, Alfred, you don’t need fucking advice, you need fucking rehab!” Matthew loudly whispered.

Matthew knew Alfred did drugs. There was nothing he could really do- if he told about Alfred doing drugs then Alfred would tell about his boyfriend. Arthur would get pissed at him for it, his mom would be disappointed for lying to her, and Alfred wouldn’t give a shit if it meant he could keep doing drugs.

Alfred wasn’t homophobic. Most of his friends were gay or trans and he went to the GSA at his school with one of his friends. He was a really accepting person, for sure a rare one.

“We disagree then. But please, Matt,”

Matthew took a moment before sighing and squatting down by the door. “What then?”

Alfred then went on to explain what just happened with his plug, also showing him the heroin that he got.

Matthew didn’t know what the fuck to say to all this. “Well, don’t fuckin’ deal it, obviously.” Alfred laughed. “Yeah, obviously.”

“I still firmly believe you need rehab.”

“I still firmly believe that I was struggling without drugs and they make me not struggle,” he smiled, “but I didn’t ask you about that. Should I flush it or give it to someone else?” Matthew took a deep disappointed breath before shrugging. “Fucking flush it.”

Then, Alfred nodded, took out a couple pills and set them aside before standing up to go to the bathroom. Before he could do anything though, he was stopped. “Woah woah woah, hold it.” Alfred was confused. “What?” He asked, sitting back down. “Why are you leaving those ones out?” Alfred sat there, then chuckled. “When I run out of heroin and don’t have any money, I’ll just take those.”

Matthew stood up and snatched the bag from Alfred’s hand, glaring at him with a cold expression. “You’re fucking crazy, Alfred.” Then he shoved Alfred and walked out.

He looked at the pills beside him.

‘Fuck Matthew. He doesn’t get it,’ he thought, laying back. Then he got up to get his heroin.

He may have taken a little too much, though. He blacked out at one point and woke up to his mom standing over him. He was on the floor shirtless, just passed out there.

“Alfred, get up. Come on,” he took a minute to comprehend what she said and to wake up, then sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Why are you asleep on the floor?” She asked in an exhausted tone, reaching a hand down to help him up.

“I-“ he started, coming up with an excuse as fast as he could, “-was waiting on a text from Anya, but she, uh, didn’t get back to me. I fell asleep.” Marianne bought it. He looked tired, she assumed he’d just stayed up late and passed out on the floor.

“Oh, well, you know Arthur and I like that girl. She’s a good influence on you.” She smiled as she turned to walk out. “A sweet girl, she’s lucky to have my baby.” She chuckled and shut his door behind her.

“Vice versa, actually,” he whispered, standing up and looking at himself in the mirror. There was still powder on his desk, just excess. Normally he would take all of it, so he assumed he passed out and fell out of his chair before he could finish it.

He was thanking god that his mom didn’t notice that. He would’ve died right then and there.

He hopped up, threw on his yellow flannel and such, then walked down the stairs to get some Vicodin. Normally his step dad would be out by now and his mom would still be getting ready, but he was just sitting on the couch watching TV.

Alfred cleared his throat before interacting. “Uh, Arthur,” “you can call me dad.” “Fuck you, no way in hell.” Arthur laughed and Alfred mimicked before leaning on the counter.

“I, uh, I’m out of ibuprofen. Killer headache. Mind if I get some of your hydrocodone?” Arthur turned his head to look at his son in law, furrowing his brows. “How do you blow through that much ibuprofen in just a few days?” “I-“ “You hurt a lot? Well, I crunched the numbers.”

He stood up, walking into the kitchen to lean on the counter across of him. “You would be dead by now from that much ibuprofen in this period.”

Alfred stared at the British man who stood across from him.

“It’s no secret that we don’t get along,” Arthur continued, “but I’m not going to let you keep stealing my medication to fuel your little elementary addiction.”

Alfred just kept staring before adjusting his bag and walking out, flipping him the bird as he stepped out the door.

‘At least I can meet with Anya and tell I’m sober,’ he thought. He would just get some heroin once he was home.

Matthew didn’t go with him to the bus stop. Apparently he was sick with a fever- but Alfred wasn’t. When one twin got sick the other did too, so it wasn’t adding up.

But, since Matthew mentioned a boy, he assumed that Matthew was just faking being sick to sneak out with a boy.

First thing he did once he got off his bus was go to meet up with Anya. She was sitting with her friend Jackson.

Jackson was a guy that Alfred had smoked with before. Anya didn’t know about that, and Alfred wanted to keep it that way. Not because he was cheating on her or anything. He just knew that if Anya knew they did drugs together, she wouldn’t like him anymore.

Alfred took a seat at the table they were sitting at next to Anya.

“Hey,” Anya said, grabbing his hand. “Hey. Guess what?” He said with a smile. He wasn’t going to maintain sobriety, but he was hellbent on bragging about it. “What?” She asked, resting her head on her other palm.

“I’m sober today.” Anya didn’t believe it. “Bullshit.” He laughed. “Deadass, I’m telling you. W-what do you want me to do? Walk in a straight line, say good morning to the principal?..” a wide smirk grew on her face. “Walk in straight line to that cop and say good morning.”

Alfred had horrible experience with cops.

He successfully evaded one when a couple cops bursted into a party- he didn’t notice anything had happened. He was too high.

Snorted a line of coke, cops saw, he ran at least two miles and hopped seven fences. Sounds like a lot, but he didn’t get caught.

Or that time when him and his friends were smoking weed and driving too fast down the interstate. Cops pulled them over, Alfred hopped out and ran towards an exit. Some random city. He ran into a gas station and took off his jacket, stole a hat, then ran out the back.

He then casually walked down the sidewalk to avoid suspicion, but they recognized his pants and shoes and shouted at him to ‘stop’ so naturally he started running again. He got tackled and they damn near tazed him.

The rest of it was a little blurry but his mom had to come and get him. They said that he kept telling the cops that he’d fuck their wives.

He got called a junkie by all the cops before getting sent home with his mom.

“Fuck twelve. No way.” Anya bit the inside of her cheek and shrugged before taking a sip of her juice.

He stared at her for a moment before groaning and standing up, easily walking in a straight line to the cop.

“Mornin’, how are you?” He asked with the rudest tone he could put on. “I’m good, yourself?” The woman smiled. “Great, thanks.” Then he turned and swiftly walked back to sit with them. Anya’s jaw was dropped.

She laughed and hugged his arm, looking up at him with a smile after a moment. “Okay, why though?” He looked at her and chuckled, smiling to himself. “Just for you. Love you,” he kissed the top of her head.

He left out the fact that he wasn’t able to get anything.

Anya felt special. She was genuinely happy that he was sober. She would totally take advantage of it, she loved simple Alfred with no additions. He was her baby. She didn’t like it when her baby was smoking meth.

“Come on, I have to use bathroom. Come with me.”

. . .

It took a few hours for withdrawal to set in. It was while he was in calculus.

His mind was only on opioids.

He was sweating, his stomach was aching, and he wasn’t able to focus on the task the teacher assigned.

It was hell. He didn’t have gym, he couldn’t skip, and normally he had Vicodin or Xanax to hold him over. Today, he didn’t.

He ended up asking to step out of class to go to the bathroom. None of his friends had anything today. He couldn’t meet up with his plug.

Well, he couldn’t meet up with his plug at school…

He had his stuff with him. His backpack, phone, headphones, school laptop. He was also out on a pass.

‘Fuck it,’ he decided. Then he casually walked down the hallway to get to the exit.

He got stopped.

“Yo, kid, where you goin’?” A coach asked. “Uh, bathroom.” “Bathrooms are that way,” he pointed, Alfred glanced in the direction. “I lied, sorry. Mom is pickin’ me up.”

The coach stared at him for a minute before asking a question. “What’s your name, kid?”

Shit. Damnit, what’s a good alias?

“Uhm, Asher. Yeah.” “Okay, gotcha. Now, what’s your real name?” “Matthew.” He internally smacked himself. His fucking twin brothers name? Okay, just don’t use the same last name. Matthew’s a common name, there’s a million Matthews at his school!

“Last name,” the coach pulled out his phone to look him up. “Vargas.” The coach looked him up, no one found.

“Come with me.”

Remember how I mentioned Alfred had ran from the cops? Alfred’s a good fucking runner. He’s fast.

He casually took off his backpack then darted for the exit. The coach tried to catch up with him, but he couldn’t. Lucky for him, the same cop he’d talked to that morning stopped him.

He pushed past her and out the door, hopping the chain linked fence that caged the school and running for it.

He would have escaped had he not ran into the freshman coach who had a full on brawl with him.

He got tackled, so he punched the coach in the nose and kicked him off. The coach grabbed his leg, pulled him down and pinned him to the ground until the school officers came to escort him.

His mom was pissed when she had to come get him. And upon seeing him in the front office of the school covered in dirt, she was mad at the coaches. “You fucking tackled my fucking child?!” She was cursing up a storm. Alfred was still sitting there, thinking about drugs and how the minute he was home he would either take some fentanyl or sniff up some heroin.

That’s all that he wanted. He felt like shit and looked the part.

“Come on babe, let’s go.” She said, flipping off the coach that tackled him and dragging Alfred out by the ear.

Once they got in the car, he closed his eyes and laid back.

“Alfred, there’s something very serious we need to talk about,” she looked at him as she pulled out of the crowded parking lot, Alfred nodding. “I know, don’t skip. I won’t do it again.” She sighed at his reaction.

She took a moment to pull up to a traffic light and once they were there, she looked at him. “Your drug use.” He rolled his eyes, exhaling roughly. “I don’t use drugs.” “Alfred! Christ, you asked Arthur for Vicodin this morning!” “I’m out of ibuprofen!” She banged her hand on the steering wheel, beginning to speak as Alfred put his headphones on.

She decided not to rip those puffs off his head, that would probably leave the risk of him jumping out the car and getting hit.

She would confront it once he was home.

Then, once they were home, Alfred hopped out of the car and immediately walked in to go up to his room- he was stopped by Arthur standing in front of the stairway. “Move.” “Alfred, go to the living room.” So, he looked to his side into the living room. He saw Matthew and some chick he’d never seen before.

He snitched.

The rage that flooded his veins in that moment. He was beyond fucking pissed. “You swore, Matthew.” His brother just looked down at the carpet, saying nothing.

“Alfred, my name is Chrissy. I-“ “Good for you, fuckass, I don’t fucking care,” he proceeded to push Arthur to the side, running up the stairs as quickly as he could, immediately stepping into his room and looking in his closet for the heroin. “Motherfucker,” he whispered, ripping clothes off of the hanger looking for it.

His whole family and Chrissy darted after him. “Alfred, I flushed it,” said his mother who stood in the doorway with tears in her eyes.

They’d prepared for a reaction, but Alfred was normally pretty laid back. This wasn’t what they prepared for.

Upon hearing that they flushed it, he punched a hole in the wall of his closet. “Mom, you’re a fucking idiot!” He stood up. “Alfred, calm down.” Arthur tried to de-escalate the situation. Matthew and Marianne were powerless.

“Calm down? Calm the fuck down?” He laughed, turning around and looking around his room for anything. “I’m gonna fuckin’ die without it! You’re fucking stupid!” Chrissy stepped in at this moment. “Alfred, I’ve been there. I’m here to hel-“ “I don’t fucking know you, fuck off,”

He started looking everywhere that he’d ever hidden drugs before. He ripped the sheets off of his bed, flipped his mattress, ripped the drawers out of his dresser,

Nothing. There was nothing.

After a couple minutes of a lot of cursing and destroying his room, he sat down and just started crying. “Alfred, mommy wants to help you. We’ll find a rehab,” “no, mom, I don’t want to go to a fucking rehab!” He sobbed, rubbing his face. “I can’t live without it, why would you do this without telling me?”

Matthew felt like shit. Seeing his brothers reaction hurt. That was his twin. His built in best friend. He thought he did the right thing, but was suddenly having some second thoughts.

He should have just stayed quiet.

“You can, and we’ll send you to a nice place to help you live without it.” Chrissy was a recovered alcoholic. She didn’t dabble in opioids. She didn’t know the pain Alfred was in personally, she just knew what she had read. She’d been sober for 20 years.

“Please, I just need ten, no, five dollars. I-I’ll get…” he trailed off, then remembered the safe. He was quiet for a second before he wiped his tears, stood up, and pushed past his family into his parents room. He reached under their bed to pull out the safe, frantically punching in the combination. Before he could finish, he was pulled and thrown aside by Arthur.

“God fucking damn it, Arthur!” He exclaimed, standing up and shoving Arthur. “Oh, you want to go you little shit?” Arthur was British, it was hard to take him
seriously.

Marianne tried to tell Arthur to stop. He was rolling up his sleeve- they were the same height and size, but considering Alfred’s withdrawal, there was a strength difference.

Before anything could happen, Alfred ran out and jumped down the whole flight of stairs.

Then he bolted out the door.

He ran for a good mile into a different neighborhood, eventually stopping at a wooded area to catch his breath. He was about to pass out- normally a mile wasn’t an issue for him. But suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. He was still sweating. His abdomen felt like it was getting stabbed.

He didn’t know where any of his plugs lived, so he pulled out his phone to text someone, anyone.

It wasn’t in his pocket.

“God fucking damnit,” he whispered, repeating that phrase at least twenty times. He patted himself down for it, but it wasn’t on him.

He must’ve dropped it while he was running. ‘I’m going to die. I’m going to fucking die and no one will find my body.’

He wanted to kill himself to be quite frank. He even started planning it out. He wished he hadn’t let Matt in on the fentanyl issue. That was his biggest regret.

He caught his breath, taking off his yellow flannel and leaving it on the ground. He couldn’t have the extra weight on him. He was sweating, but also shivering from the cold. It was an indescribable feeling. Absolutely terrible.

All he needed was a little bit. He would inject if he had to! He never injected! He would smoke a blunt, hell, he’d smoke the rest of a roach. He needed something. Anything.

He decided to get moving so he wouldn’t get caught. He walked aimlessly for a little bit before deciding to go to his friend’s house. They probably had painkillers, anything they had he’d take.

It took about an hour to walk there without using main roads, but upon his arrival, he damn near banged the door down.

His friend answered, raising his brows at the sight. “Bro, you good?” He asked genuinely. “Yeah, Jason, can I stay here for a minute?”

Jason assumed he was running from the cops or something. “Uh, yeah.” He held the door open, Alfred stepped in and looked around. “Can I use the, fuck..” he groaned, leaning on the wall. “Dude, are you sick?” He nodded. “That’s a good word for it. Bathroom?” Jason nodded and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom.

As soon as he shut and locked the door, he searched the cabinets for pills. He found nothing.

He sat on the toilet and thought of whatever he could do. Where he could go. Then, there was a knock on the door. “Hey, you gotta go.” It was a woman’s voice.

Alfred instantly got up and opened the door. “Sorry man,” Jason said, an older woman staring at Alfred. He sighed, leaning on the wall.

It was barely five in the afternoon. He didn’t know where to go. School was out, can’t go there. Hospital? Fuck no.

Anya.

He didn’t want to burden her with his bullshit. It felt childish. She was his girlfriend, not his mom. She didn’t have to help him and he doubted that she’d want to.

He just stepped out of the house, aimlessly walking in her direction. If he wanted to, he’d ask for help. If he didn’t, he’d just be by her house, and if he died, she’d be the one to find his body.

No, that’s messed up. Never mind.

He wandered the blocks for a good two hours searching for her road. He didn’t really know how to get to her house from Jason’s. But, by eight o’clock, he was on her road. He recognized it, the road name and the houses.

He had made a pit stop at a gas station for no reason except to find someone with drugs. Of course there was no one there selling or doing anything, sadly.

But, now he stood in front of Anya’s home. He was faced with the decision of being a burden, or walking away.

At this point, his pain was so bad that he had to burden her.

He walked up the concrete steps to the door, trying to get a hold of his breathing so he wouldn’t sound like a dog having a heart attack.

A man opened the door- her brother.

“Alfred. What can we do for you?” He asked with a kind smile. He could clearly see what was happening.

Alfred and Erich got along. Erich thought Alfred was a good kid who got into bad things.

Erich had to hear horror stories from Anya about him a lot, though. ‘Alfred overdosed, I need a ride to his house’ ‘Alfred’s passed out, we need to go get him’ ‘He passed out in the school hallways, can you pick us up’

It always made him sad how far gone Alfred was. He also waited for the day of his sobriety.

Alfred scratched his arm awkwardly, blinking a bit as he stared at the ground. “I-I need help,” he mumbled, shivering.

Erich looked at him, then behind him. Anya was on the couch with Nikolai watching TV while crocheting. He then looked back to Alfred. “Allow me to put Kolya in his room. Can you wait for one moment?” He whispered, Alfred nodded and sat on the chair that was on the front porch.

Erich watched him and proceeded to shut the door, looking at Nik and Anya. “Pause the show,” he spoke in Russian.

Nik didn’t speak any Russian. He was eight years old, raised in America unlike Anya and Erich.

Anya nodded and set down her hooks, grabbing the remote and pausing the TV. “Is everything okay?” She asked in her native tongue. Erich nodded. “Nikolai,” he switched back to English, “go to your room.”

Nikolai of course protested. “Why? The TV is almost done!” “Kolya, listen to bubba,” Anya ruffled his hair and pushed him off the couch. He grabbed his toy cars and walked off to his room.

Alfred was just staring out at the passing cars, his withdrawal quickly worsening. He felt exhausted from all the walking, and the abdominal pain was this close to being the death of him.

He just needed a little bit. Not even .1, .05 would work, just anything he could get his hands on. OxyContin, morphine, his mind was on opioids.

Heroin, to be specific.

This was quite possibly the worst he had ever felt in his life. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as though to drown out the nausea.

Speaking of nausea, he constantly felt like he was about to projectile vomit. Just thinking about it made him feel so much worse.

“God damn it,” he whispered, taking a shaky breath and squeezing his abdomen. He wished he had overdosed in this moment.

That was when he had to throw up.

He shakily stood up and leaned over the fence of the porch and threw up, his glasses almost falling off as he did so.

A door opened, Erich stood there with Anya. “Oh, boy,” he exclaimed in Russian, proceeding to walk over to rub his back. “Come on, Fredka.” He reached to take off the younger man’s glasses.

Erich was about twelve years older than them, he was 6’1. He had plenty experience in drinking too much and throwing up, but not much in opioid withdrawal.

Once Alfred was done, Anya walked back out with napkins to wipe his face. “Come in, baby.” She took his hand while Erich held him up, pulling him inside.

They sat him on the couch and Anya sat next to him. “What is happening this night, Alfie?”

He leaned on her, resting his head on her chest while Erich poured him a glass of ice water.

Anya held him close and played with his hair, being as gentle as she possibly could.

“M-My family s-staged a, uh, fuck..” he tried to catch his breath and stop the pain that he was feeling, but he failed.

“A-A intervention,” “Then what?” “T-They flushed e-everything..” Anya looked up at Erich who got a straw to help Alfred sip the water. He stepped over and squatted in front of him, holding the glass up to his face.

“I m-might drop it,” “Not worry, Alfred. I will hold it. Just try to get some fluid in your system.” He nodded, poking his head forward to attempt to get his lips around the straw. Such a simple task that he could no longer perform. He was shaking too much.

He laid back as his face twisted into a face of sadness, tears suddenly falling from his eyes. Anya did her best to comfort him, kissing the top of his head and petting him.

“I wanna g-get sober, I d-don’t w-wanna feel l-like t-this,”

“Erich, call paramedics, I will convince him,” “Gotcha.” Of course, spoken in Russian.

“I-I never felt t-this bad i-in my whole l-life, I n-need help,”

“I know, baby. We will get you help.” She whispered, Alfred’s shaky arms wrapped around her waist as Erich spoke on the phone in the other room.

“We will find a nice rehab for you. A-And, I am staying with you in hospital if you are going.” Alfred cracked a soft smile, wiping his face with shaky hands. “I-I just, I’m s-scared,” “I know, I know. But, I always want to meet sober Alfred.” She lifted his chin. “Do it for me. Please, is your chance.”

His skin was glossy from the sweat. It was utterly horrifying to see him like this. “I j-just need s-something to h-hold me over.” Anya shook her head. “We not have anything here, I’m sorry.”

They did have pills, but she wanted to leave it to the paramedics so she didn’t accidentally make him OD or have a heart attack.

“Y-You sure? I-I’ll take a-anything, please,”

Anya had some edibles in her room, but she obviously wasn’t going to give him drugs. “I apologize, I surely do. We not have anything.”

She heard a door open from behind and a little blonde boy walked into the living room. “Kolya, g-“ “Alfred!”

Nikolai looked up to Alfred. He thought Alfred was quite possibly the coolest guy on the face of the planet. He didn’t want Alfred to be Anya’s boyfriend, he wanted Alfred to be his best friend!

He didn’t know what was happening at all, but he could see that Alfred looked terrible.

“Hey, Nik,” he mumbled, forcing a smile and trying to regulate his breathing for the child. “You look bad, are you okay?” Alfred nodded. “Y-Yeah, bud, I-“ “He is here to say goodbye, he is going on trip to Hawaii.”

Nik’s jaw dropped. “Can I go with you?? Please!” Alfred exhaled sharply as if to laugh. “No, s-sorry, Kolya.”

“Nikky, go back to your room. I want to say goodbye to him.”

Of course Nik put up a little fight, but he went back after Alfred told him to.

“H-Hawaii?” He chuckled, Anya did too and gently tugged his hair.

“Yes. You will go somewhere very nice and get so much better.”

Anya was holding back tears in this moment. She loved Alfred so much, seeing him like this killed her. But he wanted to go to rehab, she thought. So she was giving him this chance.

They sat there and talked before there was a knock on the door and paramedics came in. “Alfred? Hey dude, we gotta get you to a hospital! Can you get on the bed for us?”

Alfred stared at the paramedics for a minute before Anya let go of him and stood up, helping him stand and walk over to the bed. “W-Which hospital?” He asked, Erich and Anya were ready to drive over there and follow the paramedics to be with Alfred.

“Magnolia Health of Wisconsin. It’s the one across town.” He nodded at the response, one of the paramedics covering him with the blanket. He removed it quickly, “n-no thanks, t-too hot.”

Erich gave the parents’ numbers to everyone there, then once the people loaded Alfred into the ambulance, Erich gave Anya a ride to the hospital and dropped her off so he could get back to Nikolai.

It was a long night, Alfred passed out early. They had given him methadone to help with the withdrawal, and it really did help.

His mom, Arthur and Matthew came in and sat by his bed for a while. Anya asked Erich to bring her crocheting stuff so she could make him a sweater.

She stayed there the whole night after Marianne had signed her off as family, crocheting a rainbow sweater as a way to keep herself busy while Alfred recovered.

It was about three in the morning when a bed opened in the ICU. Anya was still awake, his family had already gone home so she was the only one there.

They woke him up to get him in the wheelchair but he was out of it. Anya had to carry his stuff, which she was okay with. They had given her a bag for both of their things.

Once they were in the ICU, Alfred laid back down and went to sleep.

Anya was up until five in the morning when she passed out while still holding her hooks.

Alfred woke up at nine. He had sat up with the needle in his arm and looked around.

He didn’t have any withdrawal. No cravings either. He was just really tired and felt funny. Not sick, just different.

Sober? No, not sober.. It’s probably just a side effect from the medication.

Then he looked over and saw Anya bundled up in a halfway crocheted item.

“Anya, hey,” he whispered, trying to catch her attention. He didn’t catch his sleeping girlfriends attention, but he did catch the nurses.

“Hi Alfred! My name is Steph, I’m your nurse.” He looked over and saw a woman with highlighted blonde hair wearing blue scrubs. “Hey,” was all he said, laying back.

The nurse smiled. “How are you feeling? And, do you want breakfast?” “I, uh, feel better,” he was cut off by the jerking of his neck.

When he was high, his tics didn’t disappear. They showed up less. Now, being sober, he had to deal with it head on. “Sorry. Yeah, I want breakfast, please.” And before she could talk, he pointed at Anya. “Can she get some too?”

Steph chuckled when Alfred pointed at his girlfriend. “Of course. She’s been up all night, we talked for about an hour about healthcare.” She pulled out a tablet to put in Alfred’s order for breakfast. “Bacon and eggs?” “Yeah, ya’ll got apple juice?” “Yeah, lemme add it for you.”

He laid back in the comfortable hospital bed before turning his head to look out the window. It was quiet between them until he heard stirring from the chair beside him.

He looked over and saw Anya awkwardly stretching. Then, she opened her eyes and looked at a now awake Alfred.

“Anya, hey,” he said, smiling as Anya set her tools aside and stood up. “Hello, sweetness.” She walked over to the side of the bed, reaching to grab his hand. “Can I sit with you?” She asked, Alfred nodding. He scooted aside and Anya got onto the bed, cuddling up to him.

There was silence for a moment, the two just squeezing each other holding back tears.

Alfred could have cried. He felt so vulnerable, but so happy that she was there.

Could have? He started crying. Anya had to sit up and kiss all of his tears away. There was nude pink lip gloss all over his face by the time she had calmed him down, at some point he started forcing tears to make sure she wouldn’t stop.

It felt so good to not be alone. Man, it felt fucking awesome.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he finally pulled her face in to kiss her lips. “I not going anywhere, pinky promise.” She then locked her pinky with his, pressing kisses at all angles of his lips.

He was curious about where he was going after this, so he decided to ask. “Am I going to detox, or rehab?” Anya rested her head on the pillow and exhaled. “Detox. I sent your mother a few over text, she booked a very nice one. They are specializing in opioid addiction.” She didn’t know that there were kind of drugs, at least not in English. She just thought they all had their own names.

He nodded. He was ready to change.

“Alfred,” she started, talking in a serious tone, “this is your chance to get better.” He nodded, about to say something before she continued. “If you not take it, then it is your decision. I cannot stop you. But, if you not take this chance,

I will not wait for you any longer.”

Honestly, he didn’t blame her. Hell, he would’ve left himself way fucking sooner. He was lucky she had stayed this long.

“I understand. I’m gonna do it.” He smiled. “I will do it with you. I threw out all my edibles and will not drink anymore.” He quirked a brow. “I thought you said you didn’t have anything?” “I did, but no way in hell was I telling you about drugs at that time.” They both laughed.

“I just want you to trying your best,” she kissed the top of his head. “But I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay sober forever.” She simply smiled. “Not worry about forever. Worry about now.” She cupped his face and giggled. “God, I wait for the day that you see yourself the way I see you.”

The next few days in the ICU went by quickly. Anya didn’t leave and Erich brought her clothes to change into. She did all of her work via computer and finished making his sweater, handing it to him the day before he had to go. She also made him a little beanie with his name on it to match his sweater.

The day came for detox and Anya was there to walk him out.

It was nice spending that time with him. Getting to know her boyfriend, hearing him stutter, talking about his family life and the issues he had as a child that lead up to his drug abuse. Anya was okay with playing the therapist role for a few days. She owed it to him.

Alfred was just happy to be finally seeing her- she was so pretty in the natural light that shaded in the hospital room. It was like he was dead, in the afterlife with an angel who sat by an open window in a utopia. That’s what he pictured it as. Conversing with his guardian angel.

That’s what she was. Anya always wanted the best for him and encouraged it, now she was pushing him to do something he had avoided for the longest time.

It was eye opening to spend those first few days sober. It was the longest he’d been sober without feeling like shit since 7th grade. He could remember what he had for breakfast, he could remember the name of the nurse, he was stumbling and tripping over himself, he could finally hold himself up.

Maybe sobriety isn’t so bad.

He spent seven days at a detox. They got him nicotine lozenges that helped him with his withdrawal. He started drawing and his mom brought him a ukulele that he began to learn the basics of.

Then, he was sent to a 60 day rehab program.

His therapists name was Lilly. She was sweet and awful considerate of all of his issues, she also pushed him and gave him hella assignments. When he first got there, he had to write his whole life story.

< Alfred F Jones, 11/01, Life Story>

I was born July 4th 16 years ago in Madison, Wisconsin. I’ve lived here my whole life. My twin brother Matthew was also born that day, but he was born earlier so technically July 3rd.
I don’t remember much from my childhood to be honest. There’s a few things that come to mind though. My mom said my first word was “damn it” because of how much my dad cursed.
My dad was kinda abusive and really homophobic. I’m not gay or anything but my mom says she knew when my brother was like three that he was gay. My dad didn’t really like that and assumed that if one of us was gay then so was the other.
When we’d get home from school he’d show us porn and ask really weird questions that we didn’t understand at the time. Things like “she turn you on” and other stuff that just didn’t process. I still thought girls had cooties so seeing boobs was gross.
When we didn’t say anything affirming that the chick was hot he’d hit us. We’d be thrown around and he’d punch us. I know he hit my mom a lot, that was scary to see.
And crying!! We couldn’t cry. He didn’t like that. But he left when we were eight ish and just never looked back. I don’t remember what he looked like or his name.
He was a hardcore alcoholic and snorted coke so my mom thinks that’s why I was so easily addicted to drugs. I don’t really know tho.
My step dad Arthur married my mom when me and Matt were almost ten. We didn’t really like him and would dress the same to confuse him a lot.
We still don’t like him.
I remember stealing his cigarettes when I was 12 and sitting out of my window on the roof to smoke them. My friends would hop the fence and sneak onto the roof to smoke them with me. We would always cough after every drag but we thought we were cool.
I tried weed for the first time when I was like 13. I got super high and greened out off the cart. I tried it again soon after and really liked it. It became a habit that I didn’t really feel like changing.
I mainly use heroin and Xanax. The first time I tried heroin I was 14 going into freshman year. I liked the way it felt and started stealing my step dads cash to buy it.
After trying heroin I heard that Vicodin could get you high and my step dad kept Vicodin in the kitchen. For most of freshman year I used is casually, every other day or once a week, but once I hit sophomore it was everyday.
I lost my virginity to a senior girl in early freshman year while I was drunk. I don’t really remember it, I just remember my friends telling me that I said “I’m so cool I get so much pussy” which is actually really funny.
I met my girlfriend in freshman year while drunk at a party. She was going to get raped by some ugly junior who was a lil racist. So I intervened. The next morning, she tried heroin because I got high out of fear of interaction.
She tried to get me to be sober for a fair thing during the summer. I tried but she caught me doing heroin. That night I took a crap ton of Xanax and drank a can or coors light so I was on another planet and almost dead.
But, she stuck with me. Idk why.
The reason I’m here is because my family staged an intervention for me after my plug had given me a fuck ton of heroin and and fentanyl. I was originally just buying some fent but he was going to get raided soon and handed it off to me. I panicked and asked my bro what to do. He flushed it. I got high off heroin and took too much and passed out. I went to school sober, then tried to skip so I could buy from my plug. I got tackled and my mom picked me up, talking in the car about my drug use. I denied it. Then, I went home and found an intervention awaiting me.
So, I went up my stairs after realizing Matt snitched and tore my room apart looking for my drugs. I found nothing.
Withdrawal was killing me so I went to my girlfriends who convinced me to come here.

< end >

It was accepted because it really did cover a lot of his life up to that point, just not in that much detail. He didn’t really like writing.

Rehab was fantastic. The first thirty days went by in a breeze and he was having fun with the twelve step program. It was also nice to get to talk to recovered addicts.

Addicts like Mark.

Mark was Alfred’s chosen sponsor of whom he’d had a few breakfasts’ with to talk about addiction. He could really relate to him and enjoyed his company as well as his story.

On day thirty, his therapist rewarded him with a zoom with Anya and Erich. Of course, Alfred was told it was a surprise. But when he saw her in her LED lit bedroom over the screen he almost started crying. He felt so much more emotional recently, maybe it was all the pent up depression and anger he had suppressed with opioids.

That was something he had been working on with his therapist. He never really talked about his issues and she was trying to help him realize that it was okay to have feelings.

The time went by very slowly to say the least. He was trying to soak everything in- he had promised Anya and his family that he would change. He really did want to, he was just scared of sobriety.

‘What if I get bored? What if I get offered heroin and I can’t say no?’ His sponsor always told him to take it one day at a time. If that was too much, one hour at a time. If that was too much, one minute at a time. If that was too much, one second at a time.

After one minute- I’m still sober.
After one hour- I’m still sober.

That was what he was taught to do and it really made sobriety feel less stressful.

To be honest, he’d been high for so long that sobriety felt like a new drug.

The world was so much more colorful now that he could finally see everything at once. The bigger picture.

He had to write essays for his therapist about how substance abuse is detrimental- the essays didn’t really change anything for him, but elaborating with his sponsor helped him out.

It was day 58 now and he had to pitch his case to go home amongst his peers, his therapist, his sponsor and his mom.

Everyone walked into the room and Alfred sat down, adjusting his jacket and looking at his therapist.

“So, you wanna go home in a couple days?” She started, Alfred nodded. “I think I’m ready, honestly.” Lilly nodded and handed some papers to his mom.

“Elaborate.”

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been working the 12 step program. I admitted my powerlessness, found a higher power in the universe- like, no matter what I do, it won’t effect the universe- and there’s more to do once I’m out of here. Like, making amends with my girlfriend and her family, my brother, friends that I had supported in their abuse because I was so deep in mine, etcetera.

School! I’m excited for school, not because I can do drugs under the bleachers, no, because I want to try to tutor kids in algebra. I’m in Calculus II Honors passing with the top grade in the class so I think it’d be good for me to help out other people who are struggling.

My mom and I worked together to find narcotics anonymous groups in Madison and we found a couple that you and her are gonna get scheduled. I’m excited for those.

My mom discarded my old phone, too. That was probably a good decision. Once I’m home I plan on logging off of social media for a long time and focusing on the real things.

Me and my sponsor already know that once I get out we’ll meet up in person bi-weekly to talk about how things are going. I really like Mark, and he’s helped me feel a little less crazy.

Oh, and, my parents changed the lock on the safe so it’s not a combination, it’s a key. And Arthur put the Vicodin in there.

I have no intention to relapse and personally, I think I’m ready to face temptations and other shit that the world’s gonna throw at me. I have a good support system, a higher power, and I learned how to play the ukulele!

Speaking of ukulele, I think I have a lot of coping skills. Me and Vanessa have been drawing together at lunch- Vanessa is one of my peers.

So, yeah. I think I’m ready.”

Lilly had been writing it down and his mom was sat there with a wide smile on her face. Her son was a completely different person, and she was so proud of what the time in rehab did for him.

It was also nice to hear him talk normally, with his stutter and occasional spasm of the ears.

They had him on Lexapro to help with depression and anxiety and Antabuse to keep him from drinking. Basically, if he ingested any alcohol, he would get really sick.

There were a few quiet minutes of his therapist writing stuff down. His mom had her fingers crossed, hoping her baby would finally be able to go home.

“Alfred, I think you’re ready.”

Two days later he was finally released. His brother was in the back of the car and Arthur looked happy to see him. “How was it?” Matt asked, Alfred shrugged. “Really good. I feel a lot better to be honest.”

He really did feel great. No craving, no withdrawal, no need! He had been sober for 65 days and was really fucking proud.

When he got home his family had set up a little surprise party. There was cake and wine glasses filled with chocolate milk as well as family members from Oregon and Nebraska who came all the way to Wisconsin just for his welcome home party.

He had a few uncles that were drinking cans of beer but it was pretty easy to avoid. His mom was pissed about it but she didn’t want to make a fuss.

But, he was happy to finally see Anya.

After a few minutes of being home, Marianne told him to go to his room, there’s a surprise.

He bolted up the stairs, not worrying anymore about if they creaked or not and opened the door.

There she was.

She had gotten a haircut and the streaks that were once a pastel pink were now an ombre of white to, well, pastel pink. It was her favorite color after all.

He couldn’t even think before he picked her up and squeezed her by the waist. She was his heroine and his heroin. She’d saved his life and was still here to keep him alive. He wanted to make her proud of who he was. He didn’t want her to be ashamed of being with him anymore, hell, he wasn’t ashamed of himself anymore.

The feelings he had in those moments were better than Vicodin.

A feeling this good could cause world peace if everyone felt it. No more war, no more fighting, no more arguing, no one else, just you, your peace, and the people you love the most.

It was about 8 o’clock and everyone was so busy talking to each other that they didn’t even notice Anya and Alfred slipping out. They had climbed out of the window and onto the roof to look at the stars.

It was freezing out so they bundled up.

He had made it home just in time for New Years. It was December 28th and he already made plans to go to a firework show with Anya for the holiday.

For now, they sat on the tiled roof with sometimes (backwoods) by gigi playing from the playlist.

“How do you feel?” She whispered, Alfred smiling and rolling his head to look at her. “I feel good. You?” He reached for her hand while she giggled and kissed his cheek.

“I’m so happy for you.”

The song ended and coffee breath played.

They hummed along to the first part, staring into each other’s souls through the eyes, taking in the moment. He had ocean eyes. Eyes that she could just dive right into- and they were shining for the first time.

Anya had stunning violet eyes. He compared them to grapes- so sweet, he would eat them. He, no, they both wanted to be so close to each other that they would merge together into one person.

“You got those big blue eyes, drive me crazy, make me fantasize about you baby,” “and you smell so sweet like fresh big daisi-“ he was stopped by warm lips pressing to his.

“I love you, Alfred.” “I love you so much more.” She smiled at him and chuckled. “One day at a time?” He nodded and kissed her forehead.

“Yeah. One day at a time.”