Tripping Down 12 Steps Into Malibu

Step One

We must first be willing to admit we have a problem.

It seemed simple enough. No one would be here if they didn't think they had a problem.

He was addicted to cocaine. Cocaine was a problem. There. Step one complete. This was going to be easier than he thought.

Brendon rolled his suitcase into the room he'd been assigned to. The door was already open and waiting for someone to go in.

He paused to appreciate the interior. Dark beds with a lot of pillows. Hardwood floors. Window with a view of the green plains of the outdoors. A desk for him to write at. And a closet with sliding doors. It was simple and familiar. Just like he'd asked it to be.

His suitcase was set on the side of the bed. He'd put his clothes away later. Right now he just wanted to bury himself into the fluffy pillows and go to sleep.

It was only ten in the morning but it felt like one of the longest days of his life. He was in an unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar people. Dallon wouldn't be here to help him through this one.

He kicked his shoes off one by one before throwing himself back on the bed. Grabbing one of the pillows from above him to cover his face. It didn't smell like Dallon. He wished it did. It would probably make this whole thing easier.

The sound of footsteps and wheels rolling paused Brendon in his weird act of pillow sniffing. He snatched the pillow from his face just in time to see a man walking into his room.

And not just any man. The one from earlier. The skinny one who'd purposely frightened him. The one who made it a habit to interrupt Jesse with smart ass comments every chance he got.

He rolled his suitcase all the way to his bed. Lifting it up and sitting it in the center. Unzipping it and picking items up one at a time. Completely ignoring Brendon on the other side of the room.

Brendon sat up in the bed. Hoping his movement would catch the man's attention. But it didn't. He just continued to unpack his things. So Brendon cleared his throat.

"Um, hello?"

"Hi." He muttered disinterestedly. Not bothering to look his way or pause his task.

"I'm Brendon."

"That's nice."

Once he'd moved all his items from the suitcase to the bed, he rezipped the suitcase. Pulling it off of the bed and stuffing it under it.

"I guess we're roommates."

"Obviously." He started filling the empty dresser with his things.

"What's your name?"

"Ryan."

"Oh like-"

"Listen, kid." He finally turned to look at him. A gold T-shirt dangling from his fingers. "I didn't come here to make friends. So you can save all this small talk for the therapists."

"I was just trying to be nice."

"Well don't." He turned away again. "At least not to me. You're wasting your time."

"Fine!"

Brendon threw himself back on the bed again. He'd known his roommate for all of three minutes and he already wanted his room changed.

Ryan was a jerk. During the whole meeting he'd interrupted the speakers, laughed at people's problems and muttered rude things under his breath. And now to top it all off, he was an asshole to Brendon.

"And, Brandon."

"It's Brendon."

"Whatever." He clicked his tongue. "Pick your fucking shoes up and put them away neatly."