Chapter Text
A miniscule jar, wrapped in a citrine label, welcoming and neat.
He had found it. Albeit small, and unmistakably interchangable, he had found it. What he was looking for. Finally, after months of what seemed like waking up to relive the same unremarkably boring day, he had found a cure. ‘An Artificial happiness’, or that’s what he would call it.
The box would suggest it was Duloxetine. Though he wasn’t quite sure if that’s what it was. He wasn’t diagnosed with anything, so getting anything at all was a pain.
What he did was unceremonious for anyone with a brain, and downright stupid. He dipped his index finger to his palm, reaching a small oval to his finger and rolling it across his palm.
In actuality, the small beads of white wouldn’t do much of that, Drew knew all too well that joy couldn’t flood his system just like that.
There were many, many times he had mistaken himself before, now wouldn’t be another. The pearls that laid deep into the olive palm of the boy were to numb, more than anything. To emotionally regulate him, rather than having underlying dread coming with every emotion he felt every day of the week.
Feelings come and go, but the weight of emptiness never quite left his stomach- a pit of ocean like hands clasping away at his insides, thrashing into him all day. Everyday.
It was that same feeling that had eroded his sense of thinking when arguing with Jake a few weeks prior, the same feeling that penetrated his thoughts all those months ago when Jake had started to choose his godforsaken club instead of him.
It was the same feeling that had clasped his intestines with the force of a half dead man clutching to his life when he realised just what had been going on with Zoey.
He had always known something was wrong with her- well, not known, but he'd realised more than once that her interest was only piqued if the subject of conversation was money. And if he wracked his brain to think back when she had started spending less and less of his money and spending more of her ‘busy weekends’ as Jake put it with somebody who he had not known, but apparently the rest of his friend group did, he would come to realise that it was blatantly obvious. He tried not to think about that.
He pursed his lip hesitantly. This could be laced, for all he knew. The way he had gotten the pill box wasn’t exactly a textbook definition of normal circumstances.
He had gotten it at a house party two days ago, when a strange boy he hadn’t met before with facial piercings and split dyed raven-vanilla hair caught a moment alone with him, offering it with a lousily cheap price.
What was meant to be a small get together had quickly turned into a congregation of drunk teenagers, blasting shitty trap music near the aux, or breaking light bulbs from bedside lamps and pressing the broken glass to the stranger that was hosting’s wall, marking lopsided initials of ‘L+H+D!’- All thanks to his old friends, obviously.
Their ‘small get together‘s’ always tended to grow steadily, somehow. The loss of Jake from his group meant that he could finally indulge in some time with old friends of his that hated Jake from the beginning. Sure, they may not compare, but it was sort of nice to see them after such a long time.
He was too scared to try the pills then, procrastinating until the Monday after. So now, he sat by his bed, glossy oval in hand, on a Monday morning before school.
Because nothing could ever go wrong trying out a mystery pill that may or may not be laced right before school! Wow, good job, Drew. He’s the least gullible person ever!
He slowly licked his bottom lip, coating it in saliva to make it easier for the oval to slip into his hollow mouth. He brought the pale object up to his spit-glossed lips, slowing down and wasting more time than necessary.
The circular object slid inside his mouth with ease, ironic with how Drew was hesitantly prodding it around his lips as if it would bite.
The first thing he could note was how the pill lacked bitter qualities, which.. worried him to say the least. You’d think a medical drug wouldn’t taste so.. sweet.
He tried not to be too anxious. He tried to think reasonably, that pills usually have a sweet, glossy exterior, to make it slide down the throat easier, to make it easier to digest. Yeah, easier, that’d be it. But no matter how much it stayed on his tongue, or how much he was eventually sucking the damn thing dry, the sweet coating didn’t seem to disappear.
He swallowed it. Because of course he fucking did.
How idiotic has somebody got to be, really?
He waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Nothing happened.
Of course nothing happened. It had been roughly fifteen minutes. Surely it should have done something by now.
He sat, half dressed sat on plain black bedsheets looking like a complete fucking idiot now, huh? Cross legged spouting to himself about some happiness that would surely never come.
He was a complete idiot. And this was a complete waste of seven dollars if he said so himself. He should’ve just gotten some sort of diagnosis already, instead of wasting daddy’s money on placebos, possibly just tic tacs or something shaped to look pill-y.
Fuck his life. Just- just fuck it already. With a chainsaw- or a lawnmower or something. He didn’t even need foreplay.
There was no need to cry about it now. He unzipped his backpack, screwed the lid back on the jar and chucked it thoughtlessly into the bag. Maybe he could sell it to someone else and make it their problem.
With a sigh, he got up to aggressively grabble around his closet for his favourite hoodie. ‘Cause nothing shouts more ‘preformative sad boy’ than a black hoodie and a frown. God, he’d do so well in a podcast. Or a soccer game. Or any place stereotypical for white men to look forward to going to, really - despite Drew not being particularly interested in soccer.. Or being white. He really needed to get going.
The house was empty. Because of course it fucking was. His parents were out. Again. Probably on a business trip, or an interview or something else that sounded equally as affluent. The smell of marble flooded his senses when he stepped out of his room, marble and fake cleanliness. What a combo.
His house looked like one used for a movie set. It was pure #FFFFFF white, expensive, lacked any sense of individuality and honest to God one of the most massive buildings that'd been made in his area.
It was fantastic, well it should've been anyway. The house itself wasn't the problem, but it never exactly felt like a home any more. Maybe it never did. Drew wasn't sure when the last time he could look at his house and properly feel comforted was, but it definitely wasn't any time close to now.
It started small, the effects.
The rubbing of warmth emitting from his hoodie uncomfortably on his skin, feeling both too hot and not warm enough. Too tight around his shoulders, yet too baggy around his waist. Too dark, yet vibrant. Too enveloped in the smell of expensive musky cologne and devoid of any scent at all.
He could go on- In fact, he would be willing to pull out a thesaurus and label all juxtaposed words he could find that fully encapsulated all that he was feeling. But he couldn’t. He couldn't because there were too many options and too many words in the English dictionary and Fuck why are there so many words for one fucking thing?! Just stick to one!
It was clear his state was fucking his mood up, and so he preoccupied himself by setting off as to subside his thoughts. He thumped his foot as he walked out the door and started on his (not so) merry way to school.
Something felt increasingly wrong as the walk went on. He couldn’t name a specific thing, but it just felt.. Wrong. The only thing he could begin to compare it to was as if something crossed nature’s natural law- like a bird eating a snake, or a sheep wolfing down… A wolf. Or any predator getting their shit rocked by prey for that matter! He thought about going home, and sleeping the sensation away, but he chalked it up to nerves and instead continued to school, head set up, thoughts forcibly settled down.
As he walked, it got more… Intense. His paranoia was heightened, the hairs on his arms stood scarcely alert, his fingers shook- fully rattled against each other to the point where Drew could almost hear the slapping sides of his fingertips pressing together every few milliseconds or so, and the worst thing?
The cold. places covered by his normally warm hoodie- his arms, his stomach- his upper thigh- they were so. Fucking. Cold. He could feel it. It was scrutinizing. The cold did not just touch his skin, but found its way crawling though a nonexistent gateway inside of Drew, touching and scraping and tingling his bones with a cold he had never experienced before. His spine cracked in discomfort, a plea for mercy.
He tried to think rationally- that maybe he was coming down with a fever and it was entirely possible the pills were nothing to blame for it, that maybe it was unfortunate timing or something, but what are the chances?
It got worse. So much worse. Soon enough, the entirety of his insides were filled with that same sharp glacial feeling. His veins grew small to conserve body heat, and his intestines all wrapped themselves up in a nice, neat little bow, both working to make him constantly aware of how fucking shit he was feeling, and to what Drew assumed was trying to keep himself from falling apart inside out. Drew felt nauseous.
His stomach twisted and tangled as he lurched his way, his foot stumbling slightly as he did. The pathway beneath him felt rough on his shoes, his heels hitting the gravel sluggishly and the friction between the path and his outsole rubbing harshly.
And that shit was totally laced. If God were real, he’d repent straight away, say ‘God, I understand my sins ! I’m really, truly, sorry for trusting an alternative boy with facial piercings from a shitty rival high school band! I’ll never do it again, I promise!’ ..Drew cursed himself as he headed for the entrance of the school, and scanned the area for his two favourite acedemically challenged fuck boys.
It wasn't exactly hard to find the two boys, they always hung out at the same spot outside of the building before school. A few metres away from the doors, a little to the right, and if you follow loud shouting like a bright light, you'd be sure to find them.
Drew exhaled slowly and made his way towards the two, about to put on the best ‘I'm completely normal and nothing bad has ever happened to me’ performance he'd ever done.
“-I'm just saying, Liam, maybe I was never dyslexic! What if I just had really shit teachers growing up?”
“...You spelt ‘like’ as lak up until two months ago… And chocolate as cokl… You missed half the fucking word out, Henry.”
“Well, I don't know, What does spelling even matter for anyway?”
“Job applications?”
Henry looked personally offended. And a little scared, too. “Fuck job applications. Who wants to be employed?”
“Mhh, I guess… Who needs their own money when you can live off of-”
Liam dramatically twirled around to face Drew, as if he could sense his presence from a mile away, “-Our handsome little money machine, Drew!”
In response, Drew smiled wonkily, and somehow just moving his facial muscles was enough to let the frozen tingle reach the inside of his face, practically fist fighting the nerves underneath his skin. Wow, great.
“Yeah, yeah. I just got here, don't fall for me already.”
“Too late, I've already ejaculated.”
“Ew, Liam, what the fuck?” Despite the disgust shown evidently across his face, a small smile cracked from the corner of Drew's lips.
“Ehhh you know you love me.” Liam's toothy grin shone brighter than the sun, and Drew absentmindedly thought about how blinding it could be to anyone that hadn't seen it before.
“Mhhhhh… Not so sure about that one.” Drew stepped into his group's spot with ease, signifying his place confidently. “You know, I think I love Henry a bit more.”
Henry smiled a little more overly ecstatically than Liam did, but the joy radiated more or less in the same way, and in the same breath, Liam let out a theatrical gasp.
“HHAAH??! Drewy bear, I thought you loved me! Now you're ditching me for.. For..-”
“Get a load of this guy, Drew, He can't even think of someone comparable to me.” Henry flashed a smirk, eyeing Liam.
“He doesn't have to, he could just call you an idiot”
“Ah, but Drew, I'm not an idiot. I just pretend to be one so others lower their guard around me.” Henry nodded as if anybody would believe him.
Liam squinted at Henry and made a face that said ‘what the hell are you talking about’ and replied, “..What sort of Tiktok dark mango psychology have you been watching?”
“No, He'd probably get scared of the dark. He'd watch some other shit like.. toktik light….strawberry psychology.” Drew fumbled with his words and crossed his arms, and immediately regretted it because crossing your arms makes you remember the horrors of being chilly and having no.1 world's worst tummy ache. God, he's such a survivor. Deserving of many a praise, he is.
Before Henry could sputter out a defense, the rusty bell had rang out its usual tune and it was finally time to go to class. Yay!!
It was Honor role math, how prestigious, however, that also meant none of his lesser qualified friends were in his class. Therefore he needed to make do with a random person for an hour straight. While laced. Which was going to be fucking fantastic.
Having a teacher that never really enforced a set seating plan was alright for a while, back when talking to Maria was acceptable, but after the break up with Zoey he thought it would be a little less acceptable to waltz in and sit next to his ex girlfriend’s new best friend.
Since then, Drew was essentially treating himself like a worthless wrapped present in an ongoing game of pass the parcel, where he’d sit next to a new random person, get bored, move. It was a repeated cycle and sometimes he’d catch glimpses of Maria’s pitiful eyes towards him- but they never talked. So that was that.
Said new random person turned out to be a pink haired boy with a lighter hue and glasses, and by no means was Drew trying to be a dickhead, but he definitely seemed like the ‘anxious baby' type.
Which is not the type he would particularly be fond of. And isn't. But sitting down and talking to a boy that looked to be close to tears every time you merely blinked up at him was marginally better than having to spend a lesson actually doing something and not being a disruptive nuisance. Even if he was on the verge of death, he'd at least be dying doing something he loved. That something being acting like an asshole. Obviously.
He had vaguely remembered the boy from one or two past interactions if he really wracked his brain to think. One of which was playground insults thrown by Henry with Drew laughing, playing along with empty threats, but they seemed to intimidate him none the less.
He sort of remembered another instance where he had bet Liam a grand total of two dollars and forty nine cents that he couldn't go up to the pink boy and act like one of those early 2000's blockbuster movie high school bullies- the ones that'd go “give me your lunch money, nerd!” and actually seem threatening- but it actually worked.
Pink boy was absolutely quaking in his boots, just fucking shivering, fumbling around his bag for loose change like a lost lamb…It actually worked.
Liam earnt that money fair and square, and Drew was almost jealous. In all fairness, it had been pretty funny if you tune out the fact that pink boy was an actual person with a life, that he was an actual functioning being that wasn’t made to entertain Drew and co…But who was he kidding, it was funny either way.
The boy seemed quite taken off guard when Drew sat down, and at first, Drew wondered if the boy remembered him from their rather unfortunate meetings, but it soon became evidently clear that even if he did, he wasn’t going to speak up. Instead, he stuck to glancing anxiously at Drew every two minutes and shakily holding his breath as if he was going to have a panic attack at any and every minor inconvenience. Fun.
The stomach ache had mostly subsided, which he was extremely thankful for, although the frozen feeling had managed to get worse, to the point where he swore he could feel his nerves twitch and prod from underneath his skin, begging for a release. His nose stung with a biting sensation and the tips of his ears sent sharp pains to the rest of the mass down to the lobe. It was fucking freezing and he didn’t understand why.
He tried to grab his arms and shuffle his numb fingers into the crooks of his inner elbow, but apparently the cold sensation made his body feel too weak to clutch into himself properly, which led his hands to just flop there like dead fish. He directed his attention to the boy next to him, just anything to keep him distracted.
The boy, who had already been staring at Drew, had realised Drew’s newfound interest in him and quickly snapped his head the opposite direction.
“Mh, don’t think I remember you…Who are you again?” Drew blinked innocently as the pink boy scrambled to find words, but they just kept dying at the tip of his tongue, resulting in a devastating jumble of incoherent thoughts.
“Oh-!...I uhm- No, I just thou-..Eerr- Sorry-..I uhh-... You want to… know…My name..?” After the failed attempt to respond to a simple question, the boy snapped his jaw shut and looked down at the desk in front of them, his eyes darting around and finding a very interesting spot of plain wood to stare at in the emotional turmoil he had just created himself. And again- by no means was Drew trying to be a dickhead, but it was really funny.
“Oh, of course I do. We're friends,” Drew tilted his head, with a small smirk taking form at the sides of his lips. His eyes narrowed in a calculative way. "Aren't we?”
And at that, the hell gates opened. The perplexed boy spluttered out yet another incoherent sentence. And another. And another. After a few tries at this nonsense, the boy seemingly gave up on that sentence, inhaled, and started a new- actually comprehensible one- Drew was proud. The baby was finally coming out of his shell.
“Uhm- Okay, y-yeah..! We can be- We are fri-.. Ahem,.. Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sure, we're friends.” The boy smiled hesitantly, his lips shook slightly, and he seemed to press them together to try and stop his mouth from exploding. “I uh.. I actually didn't think you liked me much, to be honest- Sorry, was that weird? Or mean? I don't want to come off as mean- Just uhh- forget i said that….Eughh.. Sorry.”
The boy was… Well, he was a boy, that's for sure. Drew was surprised his brain didn't start erupting at the sound of the boy's rambling, like it did earlier that morning.
“Oh, yeah. Wasn't it obvious? I sat next to you because I wanted to be friends with you.”
He smiled out nonetheless, his jaw clenching as he did so. The reaction came with drawbacks, though, as the second his teeth jammed together the weird-maybe-pill-induced cold feeling entered his mouth, his sensitive teeth practically cried out in agony. His smile faltered.
“Oh- Yeah. That- that should have been obvious, shouldn't it? I'm bad with social queues, sorry, am I apologising too much?”
Maria, who had apparently been listening in on the conversation, slightly turned her head to lock eyes with Drew, a small grin played on her lips, it was clear she was trying not to laugh at the poor pink boy's misfortune. The second their eyes met, she looked as though she wanted to say something- really tell him something- but at that very moment she remembered herself, and turned away swiftly as if on instinct.
Pinky boy, however, did not pick up on Drew's sarcasm, and was instead determined to make his newfound friend not think he was an anxious weirdo. One slight issue: Drew thought he had already failed at that.
He started off with a very proud introduction- did not even stutter once by the way- the pink baby was growing up rapidly it seemed.
Although, it was all meaningless in the end, because Drew forgot Pinky boy's name in the next three minutes of his continuous stutter session. Sigh, at the very least he could now die a man who befriended a hopeless loser. Does it really count as bullying if the victim doesn't realise?
At the end of the lesson, Pinky was quick to rush out of the door and proceeded to almost fall over with immense speed when exiting the door, but not before sheepishly mumbling a hesitant “Goodbye, Drew.”
Drew absentmindedly realised Pinky had known his name without Drew telling him. It wasn't anything unusual, as he was popular; it was the norm for people to know him, really. But it did make him feel like a bit of a dick for only remembering his name as a horse from a kids show. Poor Pinkie Pie, having her name reduced to the boy Drew sat next to.
Sitting through the next few hours of lessons became undeniably unbearable. It was recess now, and everyone apart from him had already left the classroom. English was yet another class he didn't share with his friends, so it was easy to sit back and stay for a minute, and watch as even the teacher left the room silently.
This chill, it was annoying sure, it numbed his body and made him weak. It scratched itself into his bone marrow and settled itself in the very centre of his bones. It pried its way though his body and doubled down. But that wasn't the issue.
The headache. It came back. full. fucking. force. The migraine had ripped its way through his brain and slurped the wrinkles like a goddamn spaghetti bowl.
It was sickening to the point where every time he stood up, his brain supplied him with TV static for vision and brief hearing loss for a few seconds. It was unbearable. He had to do something, to take something. Just then, he remembered the circular jar of pills in his bag.
Justifying himself, he tried to think of a logical explanation for what he was about to do. Maybe this mystery pill worked with a Bell-Shaped Dose Response. That just maybe, taking another would block the effects of the first pill.
Now, Drew had never first hand experienced that effect, but he was well aware of its existence. A chemistry teacher of his mentioned it years ago, and it was times like these Drew was glad he had somewhat of a selective memory.
Some over the counter pills tended to get less effective the larger quantities that they were used, so if this pill worked in a similar manner, all he had to do was continuously take pills throughout the day, and avoid eating in case of an overdose. Overdosing prevents safe swallowing, so it would be less hazardous to avoid food entirely for the time being, he thought, just to be safe.
So he did what any sane and totally rational person would do.
Sluggishly, he rummaged through the bag, finding the small jar at the very back left corner of the space. His fingers tensely gripped the cylinder and holstered it up from out of the bag, his books thumped against each other loudly. Slowly, he unravelled the lid for the second time that day, only this time with a little less hope; and slotted a new pill- his test pill- into his mouth.
The sweet taste filled his senses again, yet this felt less like an escape and more so a sugarcoated road to something more threatening. He swallowed timidly. God, this was the second time today he's made a mistake revolving around pills. Pills-1, Drew-0.
The relief that came afterwards was almost immediate. Not only was it a hope restored for the pills, but it was also a ‘hey, fuck you’ to Drew, who had been fighting with the idea of taking them in his head for the past four and a quarter minutes.
His stomach rapidly unknotted itself, releasing all of the pain and frustration all in one go, his small and large intestines finally seemed to untwirl around each other, and instead lay just as they were supposed to, finding a comforting, warm spot in Drew’s stomach. Natural law was finally, finally restored.
The chill in his body seemed to let up. He was almost entirely sure that a deity had truly shone down at him at that very moment, as this was more than enough to turn an atheist christian. A small tingle buzzed on his tongue, and vibrated down through his throat and had burst warmth into his human interior again. In the midpoint of his bones was no longer a devastating chill, but a burning hot sensation warming him dry.
He felt warm. He felt alive.
Interesting. This was interesting.
He searched for the pen in the front pocket of his bag and briskly whipped it out, his eyes darted around his bag for a piece of paper that wasn't being used in a school book. A notebook, he needed a notebook.
His eyebrows furrowed deeply and his face molded itself into a look of pure concentration. He didn't have anything of the sort on him, what else could he use?
He rezipped his backpack and let his eyes wander, whilst his fingers fiddled with the pen in hand. His eyes caught sight of the motion. His palm, yeah, that’d do for now. He'd just need to find a notebook later to relay his experience in more detail.
In brief noting fashion, he jotted down his key findings, his finger shaking lightly as he worked, though it was still legible.
1 =
- Cold
- Migraine
- Weakness
2 =
- Warmth
- Feeling of relief
- Energy spike
may revert.
He sighed, and as he slid the pen back into its original place, the bell rang. Huh, had he really been here for that long?
He'd have to explain to his two clingy dogs later why he didn't come to meet them at recess then, which was fine. He was sure he could make up a believable lie on the spot. They did just fine lying to him about his girlfriend cheating on him, how would this be any different? He chose not to dwell on that longer, and left the room before other students flocked into the classroom.