Misadventure

69

Louis' POV

The second I stepped out of the car, it was sensory overload. The sun was so bright that it hurt. I found myself squinting to see, and I found Zayn.

He reached out for me the same second that I reached out for him. I felt dizzy. He wrapped an arm around the back of my shoulders, supporting enough of my weight that I was able to find my footing, and didn't pass out in the parking lot.

My stomach grumbled loudly, and we looked at each other.

"You've got to eat something, Lou."

I swallowed thickly. "There's not time. I'll eat after the recital."

"The recital is three hour long," he said, shaking his head. "I'll walk you back to the dorms, so you can start getting ready. Then I'll run down to the cafeteria and bring you back something to eat."

This was good.

I hadn't had the chance to shoot up yet at all today.

When Zayn started to walk, urging me forward with him, I knew it was my last chance to speak up.

"Wait. I forgot something," I said.

My heroin and needles were in my backpack. It was on the car floor, down by the breaks and pedal. If Zayn was somebody else, I probably could've gotten away with grabbing the whole backpack, without revealing it's contents.

But Zayn was Zayn, and I was me, and there was no planet on which that wouldn't be suspicious as hell.

"What did you forget?" he asked me. It came across as less of a question, and more of a warning. He knew exactly what I was getting, which is why I needed to go about it in a different way.

I didn't answer at first. My back was turned away from him, as I crouched down opening the door just enough to reach my arms in, but not enough for Zayn to see what I was doing.

"What did you forget?" he repeated.

This time I did answer. "I forgot to rearrange," I said loudly, loud enough to mask the sound of me unzipping my backpack. I was being intentionally vague, so that Zayn would ask a follow up question, which would buy me more time.

"You forgot to rearrange? What the hell does that mean?"

"Come on, Zayn. You don't think I'm stupid, do you?" I said. I slipped a lighter, a spoon, and an unopened needle into the front pocket of my sweatshirt.

"I don't know what you're even talking about," he said. "Why are you rearranging your car when the recital is in less than half an hour?"

I quickly zipped my backpack and stood back up, picking it up off the floor. "All my drugs are in here," I semi-lied. "I'm going to put it in the trunk, so nobody can see it while I'm gone."

His shoulders relaxed. "Bloody hell. I thought you were going to bring that with you or something."

I shook my head.

My state of withdrawal was undeniable. The entire walk to the dorms, there was an old familiar metallic taste creeping up the back of my throat, which kept tightening like I was about to puke.

It wasn't even a far walk, really. The parking lot was right behind the building. All we had to do was circle around to the front entrance. To me, it felt like running a marathon. It felt like all the blood in my veins had been replaced with lead, and that was with Zayn supporting more than half of my weight.

Once we reached the front door, he let go of me long enough to fish his key card out of his pocket and let us in. I leaned against the brick wall for support.