Addicted To You .L.S.

Thirty Five.

Ten Months Ago
(Sixteen Years Old)

"We're lost," I insist.
"No, we're not." Harry navigates Gem's truck down the dirt utility road we've been on for the past thirty minutes. It's dark outside and the trucks bright light cut through the forest as we rock back and forth on the rough road. "Amber said down off Route 3, down the second road to the right."
"We're totally lost," I say. "No way there's a campground out this far. There's nothing but trees and deer."

The trees are too thick to get a signal, so I can't call Amber to tell her why Harry and I are so late to join her and Adam at the campground. Harry backs the truck up slowly—the road we're on is cut out of the hills, hugging a cliff that's so steep, I can't see the bottom in the darkness. The wheels skirt close to the slope and Harry bites his lip in concentration, his knuckles white against the wheel. After a few false starts, he finally gets up turned around, but we only get a half a mile before a thud reverberates through the cab and the ride gets even bumpier.
"Crap." Harry slows to a stop. "I think we might have a flat."

I grab the flashlight from the glove box and follow him out of the truck, shunning the beam on the tire. Harry frowns. "Do you know how to change it?"
I shake my head and look down at the road. It's at least three miles back to the highway. I run absently at my leg, thinking about how much it's gonna hurt, walking that far. Harry pulls out his phone and stomps around, trying to get a signal. I don't tell him it's useless, because he's got a determined look on his face and he keeps throwing glances at my leg, like he knows the hurt I'm anticipating. I lean against the big piece of slate that's embedded in the hills looming over us and wait for him to admit defeat. It's August, but it's still cool at night and I like the little shiver that goes down my back, the prickle of goosebumps over my skin. It's nice being out here in the forest; loud in its own way, the rustle and cracks in the undergrowth—hopefully a deer instead of a bear—the groan of the branches in the wind punctuated by the steady crunch of Harry's boots against the road. I close my eyes and let the sounds fill me.

"You don't have any signal?" Harry asks hopefully after about five minutes of walking back and forth, waving his phone around.
"Nope. We should start walking," I say. "It's not like we're blocking a main road. We'll tell Gem to get someone out here to change it tomorrow."
"Don't be stupid," he scoffs. "You can't walk that far, I'll go get help and come back for you."
"I'm being stupid? You're the one who failed the wilderness skills part of Boy Scouts. You'll probably get eaten by a bear. You go, I go."
"It's a road! I can't get lost following a road! Anyway, you couldn't walk that far," he snaps.
"Sure I can."
"No way," he says, his mouth set mulishly.
"You can't tell me what to do. I'm coming."
"No!" Harry says.
"Yes," I say, starting to get annoyed. "What's up with you? Stop treating me like I'm—"
"Weak?" He finishes for me. "Disabled? Hurt?" His voice rises with each word, trembling and high-picked, like they've been stuck in him forever and now finally free.
   I jerk back from him, like he's hitting me instead of just telling the truth. Even though he's standing ten feet away, I need more distance from him. I stumble, achingly aware of my clumsiness in that moment.
"What the hell, Harry?"
  But I've inadvertently unleashed something in him and he keeps talking, words spilling out in the night. "If you walk that far, you'll use it as an excuse to take more of those stupid pills. And then you're gonna be all dopey and spaced out, like you always are lately. I know you're in pain, Lou; I know that. But I also know you. You're hurting yourself and either no one else has noticed or they're not saying it. You need to stop, now. Before it becomes a problem."

Panic and relief twists inside me. Panic, because he knows, and relief, because he doesn't realise how bad it is. He thinks I'm still at the edge of the hole, ready to throw myself off, instead I'm in it so deep that I can barely see him at the top.
There's still time to fix this.
To lie my way out.
I don't even think about taking him seriously, I'm fine. I've got it under control and it's none of his business.
It's partly his fault.

"Please, Louis, I need you to hear me," he pleads. His eyes are wide and concerned in the glean of the headlights and I stifle a wild urge to tell him, about how far I've gone, what I've done, what I've become. But then the love he has for me—whatever kind it is—will be gone. I know it. How could he love when I'm like this?
"You're right," I sigh. "I'll talk to the doctors about it, okay?"
"You will?" He asks, sounding so small. He's never been small, he's always been big and out going, but right now he's tiny. "Really?"
"Really," I say, my stomach turning at the lie. I tell myself I will ask them, that I'll do for him.
But deep down, I know I won't.
I can't.
He gallops back to hug me. The scent of vanilla floods me, the smell of damp and green from the forest mingling with it to make the best perfume. His hands are warm looped around my waist, his face is pressed into my neck as he breathes, relief pouring off him.
He heads off into the night with a flashlight and a water bottle, and I stay obediently in the truck like a good boy.
I wait until he's out of sight before fishing out the container of pills in my bag.
I shake out four and swallow them dry.