Odalisque

December: Up the Wolves

Once my invite is sent i'm gonna be posting this on ao3 btw

This chapter mentions sex like alludes to it but i'm saying it's not graphic, there isn't really going to be any smut in this story.

I hope this chapter is okay bc honestly i had to slow myself down or the plot was gonna come too fast and i mean honestly i got kind of distracted halfway through this one but wanted to finish so idk not my best chapter but you know still depressing so thats nice

Anyway thanks for reading hugs and kisses,

Love, Chad B

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December in northern Maine means snow, and lots of it. It had come late this year but, by the third day of December, a neat blanket of white had settled over the town. Richie can't help but stare at it through the window, thinking of how it looked an awful lot like the white power he'd been snorting up his nose and, somewhere inside, wishing that it was. He wished he could go outside with a straw and just start snorting whatever he could find. It's not necessarily a rational thought, but he finds himself so engrossed in it that he doesn't hear the teacher call his name.

When he finally does notice, the whole class is staring at him, Bill included, and his face suddenly feels hot and he feels like he could die. His teacher advises him to pay attention, but shit, how is he supposed to do that when all he can do is watch snowflakes melt against the window and think about that amazing white powder. He can't, he can't pay attention or sit still or think about anything else and it isn't long at all before he's raising his hand and begging to be excused to go to the bathroom.

His hands are practically shaking when he uses them to shove open the heavy bathroom doors. The boy's bathroom, in all its hideous cerulean-tile glory, reeks like piss, but he hardly notices. It's nothing new, and he's alone in here for now, so he'd better be quick. It was always such a pain waiting for the bathroom to empty out every time he wanted a little bump, but he couldn't risk anyone knowing what he was doing and he was sure the sound of him sniffing and snorting would give it away. With nervous hands he pulls a little baggy out of his pocket and dumps out some fine, white powder onto the top of the toilet paper dispenser, using the razor that had been tucked in with the baggy to cut it into a nice, neat line, which he stares at for a second. He thinks about the snow, falling outside, and how frosty the air is and how it's the kind of cold you can feel in the base of your lungs. He thinks about how fucking disgusting it is to be snorting anything off the back of a toilet paper dispenser, and how this bathroom is probably filthy and covered in germs. He thinks about Bill, sitting back in the classroom, listening to whatever the teacher was lecturing on about or maybe even staring out the window like Richie had been. Richie wonders if Bill looks at the snow and thinks about cocaine, and then bitterly doubts it. He doesn't want to think anymore, and without wasting anymore time he pulls a dollar bill out of his pocket and rolls it up. The paper goes to his nose as he gets everything in one big sniff, and suddenly he's not feeling so bad anymore.

He wipes up the residual dust with his fingers and rubs it on his gums, not caring anymore how gross and unsanitary it is and not thinking about how many dudes have stood a foot away from where he was pissing. One of his favorite things about cocaine is how much it makes him not fucking care. When he steps out of the stall he catches himself in the mirror- his pupils are huge, big and black, and his eyes are bloodshot. There's a little bit of powder stuck to his nose, which he quickly wipes away, before splashing some water on his face. His hands feel clammy as he makes his way back to class, but in a way that he's found he rather enjoys. Taking his seat and looking back out to the snow, Richie feels a lot better.