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"What kind of pizza even is this?"
The house filled with the smell of pizza coming out of the oven. There was some garlic bread on the counter, a small bowl of pasta, and a bag of salad. Two bottled waters as well. Ibuprofen laid in the palm of Scott's hand.
"Alfredo spinich."
Scott popped the pills in his mouth, chewing them. "Who'd even eat that?"
"I would." Wallace pointed to himself. He pulled the two pizzas out, setting them on the tray on the stove.
Scott took a swig of water and swished it around before swallowing it. It tasted like grape medicine. "I thought Todd was the vegan."
"Vegans don't eat cheese. That's vegaterian." He grabbed a knife and began cutting the pizzas into slices.
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"Not really. Vegans eat only plants and vegaterians just don't eat meat."
"Wouldn't they eat fish?"
Wallace glanced up at him. "That's pescatarian."
"Pesca-what?"
"Fish vegaterians." He grabbed two plates, putting a slice of alfredo pizza on each. Wallace slid the plate to Scott before putting some salad on his. "Try it at least."
"Before the garlic bread?"
"Before garlic bread, Scott."
He leaned back in his chair, ignoring the way his lower back popped and cracked. It didn't hurt him now, but it'd definitely hurt later.
Scott grabbed the slice and took a bite, poking at a lump of spinich as he ate.
"Not bad. I still want the buffalo chicken or whatever it was."
"Ranch chicken."
Scott waved him off, grabbing two slices of garlic bread and putting it on his plate. He continued to eat away at his slice of pizza, thoughts turning in his mind.
The two remained silent, Wallace occasionally glancing at Scott.
"I can hear you thinking."
"You don't even know about what."
Wallace raised his eyebrows with a smirk. "I could guess."
Scott hummed, jerking his head upwards.
"Is it about that shitty movie we watched that was a fever dream?"
"Not... really."
He tapped his foot against the leg of the table, staring off into distance. His eyebrows increasingly furrowed, his mouth making small motions. Almost like he was thinking out loud.
Almost.
"Then spill."
"I haven't told Ramona that I'm still in recovery."
"You never told her you were an addict in the first place."
"It's not like she'll ever need to know! We broke up a month ago."
Wallace grabbed his plate and rinsed it off in the sink. "Truly shocking."
They laid in the bed, Scott once again staring into the distance with deep thoughts plastered all over his face.
Wallace turned over, draping an arm over Scott's chest and tugging him close.
"Jus' go to sleep."
"What if she hates me?"
"She won't. You need your wolf?"
"Maybe."
Scott couldn't shake the feeling that he'll probably get booted from the band. Stephen will hate him, Kim will hate him, Knives will probably hate him.
"Stop worrying over there."
"They'll hate me."
"For what? Being a drug addict in recovery?"
Scott whined, turning over on his back.
There was the sound of plates clattering and footsteps drawing closer to him.
"Breakfast in bed."
"Bed breakfast."
Scott fiddled with his hands as he always does with things like this. He could feel sweat trailing down his back. Wallace was bumping shoulders with him.
"I have... something to tell you guys."
"Are you and Wallace dating?" Kim settled her drumsticks on the kit.
"Not yet," Wallace told her with a smirk. Scott elbowed him lightly, earning a small laugh from him.
"No, no. It's..."
He swallowed his nerves.
"I'm a drug addict."
The room was silent for a few seconds before Stephen spoke up.
"You want us to cut some stuff from lyrics?"
Scott nodded. He grabbed Wallace's hand, squeezing it tightly. He got a squeeze back.
"I don't want my house smelling like weed."
"I'm in recovery! And I don't smoke."
Stephen nodded, picking his guitar up and tuning it just a bit. He gestured to Scott's bass.
Scott somewhat dragged Wallace to the couch, letting go of his hand once he sat down. He picked up his bass and threw the strap over his shoulder.
Scott groaned as he laid in bed, hand in a bag of Cheez-its. Crunching filled the silence between the clangs of pots and pans.
"My cooking wasn't that bad, right?"
Todd flipped through channels on the TV as Wallace washed the dishes.
"It sucked, guy."
"Oh, don't say that. It was a good step in the right direction."
"The mashed potatoes were better than the fucking tofu!"
Todd let out a hum at Scott and Wallace's bickering. "One of you guys could teach me..." He mumbled, shuffling his foot.
"We could..." Wallace dried off the last plate of the night, setting it on the plate rack before turning around to face the two. "Scott's jobless enough to teach you."
"I'm not that jobless."
"You're living under my roof and off of unemployment funds."
Scott grumbled and dramatically flopped back onto the futon, a Cheez-it bag crinkling.
"How would... Todd feel about polyamory?"
Wallace shrugged. "Haven't asked him yet. Why?"
"Ah, no reason."
"You sure?"
"Yep."
The two of them walked towards the cafe, Scott kicking snow along the way.
"You absolutely sure?"
Scott paused.
"I... may or may not be interested in you."
"Well yeah, I'm hot as hell."
Scott hummed. He took his hand out of his pocket, patting lightly against Wallace's sleeve. He grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
The bell dinged as the two of them walked in together, the air warming them up instantly. Ramona and Julie were at the front, both of them having smiles on their faces.
Scott suddenly felt like thousands of eyes were staring at him. Only him.
Wallace more or less dragged him to the front. He was speaking, but the words didn't exactly fit with how his lips were moving.
"You're fucking awful."
"Are you really recovering?"
"A junkie mooching off of your roommate who's too nice to kick you out."
It's all paranoia, Scott told himself. It's all paranoia. Wallace wouldn't kick him out. Julie isn't threatening him. Ramona is definitely not worried for him.
He felt hands on his shoulders.
"Piece of shit. Why didn't you just overdose on coke?"
He felt dizzy. The world was way too bright and way too swirled with colors. Everything was moving and he felt sick to his stomach.
He mumbled... something. He wasn't sure what, but he was slowly moved to the bathroom. Thank god it was mostly empty.
Someone was guiding him with a hand on his back. It was a comforting sort of pressure. He leaned into it slightly.
Each sound was muffled at varying volumes. Voices were far away, the whir of the overhead lights were blasting, his own thoughts were enough to give him a headache.
Colors became brighter, noises became louder, and sweat dripped down his neck and into his shirt. Pills and spit travelled up his throat and out of his mouth, making a disgusting splash into the toilet bowl. They couldn't have been pills. He hasn't had any since last month.
The blue capsules almost laughed at him, pulling faces and mimicking his own fear. It felt as if the world had slowed down extremely.
"...tt?"
He half attempted to swat at whoever was speaking before even more drugs spilled out of his mouth. Heroin needles, bags of coke, joints, even the ibuprofen he took yesterday. They all spilled out of his guts and onto the floor below him.
He could vaguely hear himself sniffling as toilet paper was pressed against his nose, cleaning out the vomit that leaked there. Scott felt gross and dirty.
"Scott?"
He gave the person a hum, colors becoming duller and less saturated. The world began to speed up and stop spinning.
"You ok?"
He nodded.
Wallace slowly led him out of the stall and back into the cafe. Ramona was waiting for him outside the bathroom door.
"Holy shit, you alright?"
"He says he's fine."
Scott was sat down behind the counter and away from anyone's prying eyes. He could hear the milk frother whir in front of him.
His chest felt tight and funny.
"Sounds like PCOS."
The words echoed in his mind as he took the time to process it. It would explain a lot. How the doctors always found his heartbeat weird, how his back pain killed him sometimes, how he hasn't had a period in two years.
"Least it isn't scoliosis!" Todd called from the kitchen, flipping Scott's grilled cheese.
There was some rustling of sheets and blankets next to him. A hand patted his shoulder.
"Babe."
"Hm?"
"Switch places?"
Wallace and Todd swapped places, Todd now the one manuvering Scott in order to pick him up.
"We should've gotten Lucas for this," he grunted, hoisting Scott's limp body over his shoulder.
"Careful- Careful with him!" Wallace dropped the pan in the sink and sped over to the two in the living room. He lifted Scott's head to look in his eyes and make sure the blood didn't rush to his head.
Todd lowered Scott so he was clinging to his shirt instead of hanging off his shoulder.
Scott heard Wallace click his tongue and felt him brush over his cheek. He felt loved.