The Detoxing Game

An Argument

Mike couldn't stay asleep for long. Maybe it was his conscience getting the better of him, telling him he needed to wake up right then, but who knows. Groaning, he rolled off the couch and put out the candle, which had been burning this whole time and now was a mere stub, by pinching the flame out with his fingers. He barely even felt it.

He yawned and got up, looking at the clock. It was almost 1 in the morning, but it felt much earlier. He flipped on a light and started to make his way into the kitchen.

He wanted to be surprised, he wanted to be frightened, or anything, when he saw Peter. His friend was unconscious on the ground with an open pill bottle beside him. With a sigh, he got down onto his knees and felt for a pulse or any sign of life in his friend. He was able to feel a slight pulse and let out a sigh once he felt it.

"Peter..." he muttered, shaking his head. "You can be a real idiot sometimes."

He began shaking Peter's shoulder, trying to wake him up. After too long, Peter's eyes finally opened and Mike could see that his eyes were dilated. He groaned.

"Don't do that again," Mike said with a frown as he shook his head, disapprovingly.

"You can't control me," Peter muttered, glaring at Mike. Mike sighed and rolled his eyes.

"It's too early for this," he said standing up, going back into the kitchen.

"Too early for what, Michael?" Peter called out. "Too early to give a damn?"

Mike made his way into the kitchen, trying his best to ignore his friend. He sighed, looking down.

"You're an idiot," he muttered, shaking his head. "Don't ever try and pull something like that again."

"Or you'll what? I-it's not like you'd care."

Mike looked at him, frowning.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Peter scoffed but didn't respond as he closed his eyes again.

"Go fuck yourself," he muttered. Mike smiled slightly, this was the first time Mike had ever heard him use that word before.

"Will do," he said. "And I'll tell you how that goes."

"I hate you," Peter groaned.

"I know," Mike said with a shrug. "But I'm just trying to help."

Peter let out a sob.

"Just stop it, please!" He cried out. "I don't want this if y-you're only making things worse!"

Mike slammed his hands on the table, becoming frustrated with him.

"You don't want my help?" He asked in a condescending tone. "You wanna go out and kill yourself? Go ahead. Just don't do it under my roof."

Peter laughed and forced himself into a sitting position.

"I never asked for your help," he said darkly. "You-you only are giving it to me since you thought I was just a dummy who couldn't take care of myself!"

"I was worried about your safety," Mike sighed.

"My safety," Peter repeated, looking down. "Wh-when have you ever actually cared about my safety, Michael?"

Mike frowned and looked at him.

"Maybe when I found you half-dead on the side of the street," he said nonchalantly. "I don't know, maybe I cared then? At least enough to take you in and try and help you get better, perhaps. Who knows? Maybe I cared about you just a little bit then."

"Cared or pitied?" Peter asked, looking up at him. When Mike didn't answer right away, Peter sighed and used the wall for support as he shakily made it to his feet. Breathing heavily, he glared up at Mike.

"I didn't ask for your help," he said under his breath. "I never wanted your help."

"I never wanted you to try and kill yourself either, twice, but here are," Mike said with a shrug. Tears filled in Peter's eyes as he laughed.

"I never tried to kill myself," he laughed, tears falling down his too pale face. "Unlike you, I never wanted to kill myself."

Mike glared at him, but chose not to make a comment on the last half of the statement.

"Then what were you trying to do then?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Please. Enlighten me."

"I just wanted to live," Peter choked out. "That's all I wanted. And I-I left because you three made that impossible to do anymore!"

"And living on the street, shooting yourself up, is living?" Mike scoffed.

"At least it's better than living with you," Peter defended and Mike sighed.

"Yeah, I bet it is," he said under his breath.

Peter looked at him, furiously.

"You're mocking me," he said, his voice breaking.

"No, I'm not," Mike sighed. "But if you're gonna start saying all this ridiculous—"

"STOP IT!" Peter screamed, collapsing onto the ground. Mike frowned and quickly started to make his way over, before Peter's hand was thrown in front of his face.

"Just stop!" He sobbed, shaking his head. "I hate you. Why can't you just let me live the way I want to live?"

"Because you're under my roof," Mike said sternly. "At least, while you're here, I have a right to stop you from destroying yourself."

"I-I never asked to be here," Peter muttered.

"Well, you're here," he responded with a shrug. "I don't know what to say other than that."

Peter shook his head.

"I hate you!" He yelled backing away from Mike.

"You wanna know the other reason why I'm not letting you live?" Mike asked. "It's because this isn't you, that's why. And that is why I took you in, not because I wanted to torture you or anything, because you already did that to yourself...but Peter, this isn't you."

Peter scoffed and wiped the tears from his eyes.

"What? You preferred me to be the dummy?"

Mike sighed and shook his head.

"No, I preferred you to be my friend," he said, slowly approaching Peter.

"Do you need anything from me?" He asked softly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Peter looked up at him, thinking about it for a long moment before a smile grew on his face.

"You really wanna help me?" He asked and Mike nodded.

"Yes, Peter," he said with a sigh. "Yes, I really want to help you."

"If you wanna help," Peter started. "Then you can start by leaving me the fuck alone a-and stop treating me like I'm just the dummy."

Mike closed his eyes and tried to stop himself from objecting to the request, but there was no point to it.

"Fine. Whatever you say, Peter."