Alone In A Crowded Room (A Lestappen Story)

Another Shot

Miami was one of the worst races of Charles' season and as he got ready he thought of the P3. He should have been proud of the podium but somehow he was ashamed. He sighed, trying to shake the memory.

The inconspicuous uber over to the club, the designer high, the paradise. It was all so familiar. He remembered the first time it happened. He'd been naive and hopeful and lost and panicky but now Charles breathed in the air, high as a kite and smiled like a sweet little baby in a world full of pain. A manic giggle escaped him. This was fun. He should do this often. What's the worst that can happen?

As the night wore on, the drugs got more expensive but money wasn't a problem. He didn't know the time and he could barely feel his face and there were still a lot of narcotics in front of him and he wanted them but he had to be honest, he didn't know if he could take it. "Man," He said, laughing with his friend, "I think I'm done."

"Oh come on, Leclerc!" He pouted, "No fun. There's such little left. Just take a shot and you'll be fine."

"I am thirsty." Charles admitted.

The shots were taking forever and Charles slumped back in his chair. He felt so so full. He couldn't physically take any more and yet . . . it would be a waste of money to waste the drugs so he cracked an eye open when footsteps came but no one held a tray of shots. Instead he was pulled out of the chair. There was a lot of loud noise but Charles didn't care enough to interpret it, he just leaned against the man who had come. His saviour from a round of shots that would end him.

Charles' eyes were shut and someone was patting his cheek. It was gentle at first but it was starting to turn into slaps, "What?" He asked, grumpily. He felt a glass put to his mouth. It didn't smell like alcohol. He drank. And then the liquids all got too much and he groaned.

"Don't throw up yet, Charlie." A voice said and he felt himself being pulled. He went through a door - or was rather yanked through it - and was forced onto his knees in front of the toilet. It was too much motion and he just threw up. He could feel a hand rubbing circles into his lower back soothingly. He didn't like the heat from the palms on his sweaty skin but it felt nice. He felt nice and sleepy until he was hit in the face with a jet spray. His eyes shot open but he couldn't really see either way so he just shut them again and the jet spray hit his face again.

"Will you quit it?" He mumbled angrily to whoever was doing it.

"Stay awake." He recognised the voice. Max.

He groaned, "How did you find me?"

"You called."

"I did not."

"Thirty three times."

Charles huffed a sigh and he was hit with a jet spray again, "I didn't do anything!" He complained angrily.

"I know, it's just fun."

Charles heard the sound of papers being taken from the hand towel dispenser and felt Max dabbing gently at his mouth with wet towels.

When Charles could see again they were out of the club and heading to Max's car. He let his eyes fall shut. He'd be fine.

Max, however, had different plans and shook him awake less than a minute later. He had fries and burgers and a lot of stuff Charles couldn't have, "Eat." He said and Charles was in no mood to argue. He tried to hold the burger but his hands shook so Max had to hold the burger for him which was embarrassing but neither complained and Charles fell asleep after eating. Max didn't wake him up again.

Random but did y'all know that in 2009 Red Bull made a music video (Red Bull's Version) for Welcome to the black parade by My Chemical Romance?

Anygays, I hope you guys like today's chapter. Last chapter was tough? Should I give y'all a hint to figure it out? Y'all have till Saturday to figure it out

Love you guys <3

Love,
Kai