Rock Bottom.

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(Andy's P.O.V.)

So yeah, the tattoos hurt badly, but nothing I couldn't take. I failed to tell Mikey about them when he saw me the day I got them, but he should have known I never lay on my side on a damn bed. I also failed to tell him that I needed to slow down a bit with cigarettes because I was having problems with my asthma.

"Are you wheezing?" Eli asks as we run laps in gym.

I nod in response, trying to catch my breath. He keeps running and laughing.

I couldn't help smoking with my sister there. She got under my fucking skin. I thought I hated her when she left us, I hated her more now that she was back.

"Andy, run your laps!" Coach yells.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I wheeze and keep walking.

→→→

  I wasn't so lucky after school when Eli thought it was funny to tell the story.

"You would've thought he was dying," Eli cackles.

"Really?" Mikey chuckles, looking down at me.

"Yeah, I think he needed his pump," Eli says.

I had thrown that thing away Sophomore year. It was embarrassing to carry it around in my pocket all day, the guys laughing at the bulge it caused in my jeans pocket. Not to mention the fake wheezing they all imitated. I knew it was all just joking, doesn't mean it wasn't humiliating.

"I'll make sure he has it next time," Mikey smiles tightly.

                               ---

  "You didn't have your pump!" Mom yells at me.

Mikey told her.

"I lost it a while back," I lie.

"You should have gone to the doctor," She shrieks.

Ally, Maileen, and Brandon all watch as Mom rips into me.

I don't even look at them. I'm eighteen for fucks sake! I shouldn't feel like I'm eight!

"Look, I'll go get another one," I say, trying to keep my cool as I stood up to go to my room.

I know Mikey is waiting for me to come into the room and he'll give me a sheepish smile with wicked eyes.

"You better!" She yells at me.

     "Told you," he sighs, flipping through an old Playboy. I don't know why I have that still.

"I should kick my foot up your ass."

"It's for the best," he shrugs, throwing the magazine away to spread himself out on the bed.

"Whatever," I mumble, lighting up a cigarette.

I open a window and take a drag. Before I can take another, the magazine comes flying and knocks it out my hand, out the window. The magazine going right with it.

"Mikey, what the fuck!"

"You dumbass, you really think that's a good idea!"

"I want a cigarette, so I'm going to have one!" I yell.

I admit he had good aim, well he had to for football, but damn it.

"You looking to die!"

"I'm stressed out, can't I enjoy the one thing that helps it!"

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