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It was odd seeing Victor take medicine. Not only was he rarely sick, despite his habits, but he'd rather wait it out than swallow a pill. Which only made things weirder when Eliot saw him standing in the bathroom, injecting something with a needle, to his butt.
“Doing drugs now, Vale?” He asks, knowing Victor hates being called by his surname.
Instead of an answer, he gets a door to the face. It doesn't lessen his curiosity, at all. It, in fact, had the opposite effect.
Victor had no reason to abuse substances, he was good looking, intelligent, knew he didn't have to fit into people's standards. This concerns Cardale to a degree. Especially about his roommate's mental health. Something quite disturbing must've happened to bring Victor to such a level of distress to the point of doing that.
Knowing he wouldn't pry the answer out of the blonde, he walks away to his own affairs - the array of papers sprawled across his desk, that he insisted on calling an assignment.
—
Time went by, the memory of the injection still lingering in the back of Eliot's head. This time neither of them had an excuse to avoid the talk.
It wasn't the last time they had that encounter either, he's catched Victor taking injections in other places, especially his room.
This was another one of those encounters, Eliot knew he'd walk in on Victor's substance use. He just barged in, but wasn't ready for what was to come.
“Victor Vale, we need to…” He's cut off by the sight of Victor wearing only his boxers. It was early in the morning, Victor was changing.
What caught his eye wasn't the boxers, Eliot didn't see Victor like that. It was the scarring on his pale, slim chest. He's only more concerned, thinking he's doing something to himself.
“What the fuck are you doing, Cardale?!” Victor yells, spooked, needle in hands.
“Me? What are you doing, Victor? Heroin?”
This drags a disbelieved huff out of Victor, “I'm better than that.” And he turns to him, exposing fully the scars that draw a line under his chest and around his nipples.
Eliot looks like a confused puppy, not quite understanding what happened there, despite being a medicine student himself. It's only then that he looks around, seeing a small box on Victor's bed, labeled “testosterone”.
“Oh… oh.” Eli mutters. “I thought… I thought something happened and you were… yeah.” He's embarrassed. His tanned skin is flushed red in certain spots, pure shame.
Victor shrugs and takes his shot, getting dressed right after. It wasn't exactly cold, but he still wore the classic turtleneck and matching pants he usually wears.
“We got class. Are you going to stand there and stare at me or are you going to get your things so we can go?” Victor throws his backpack over his shoulder.
“Oh right, yes, classes.” And Eliot rushes out.
—