Room 1013

My Fault

Keith sat on the couch with his notebook in his lap and a lit candle on the coffee table. The assignment of the day was to write a paper on some guy he didn't give a shit about. He tried to stay focused and get his work done, but his mind kept wandering. Something just didn't feel right to him. Things weren't the way he thought they would be-not even close.

Keith stopped writing and stared at the wall. Was it my fault? He couldn't stop the thought from invading his mind. Telling himself that it wasn't anything he did just was not enough anymore.

"Here," Keith rolled over and motioned for him to come. "Give me a kiss before you do."

"Not right now," Lance snapped, turning the shower on. He felt irritable and tired. "I'll be there later."

Keith tossed his notebook onto the coffee table. That was my fault. I made him angry.

Keith squinted a little as his face contorted into bewilderment. He motioned to him with his wrist. "Your nose is bleeding."

Lance immediately dropped his fork and covered his nose with his hand. "Uh, I'll-um-"

Curious looks laced with worry shot up at him. Keith slid his napkin out from under his silverware and lifted it toward Lance's face.

Lance gently moved his offered hand away and stood up. "I'll be right back."

"That was my fault," Keith's eyes drifted around the carpet. "I shouldn't have tried to wipe it off."

Keith jumped up on the bed and crossed his arms. "If you think you're so fine, then go sleep on the couch."

Lance scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. He rested one hand on his hip as the other rubbed his forehead. "Keith, we agreed that we wouldn't sleep separately."

Keith felt a tear drop onto his arm, "We already do."

"That..." Keith furrowed his brows and crossed his arms. He shook his head, "That wasn't my fault."

"This..." Keith jumped off the couch and went to the bedroom. "This isn't my fault." He yanked the dresser drawers open and searched through every one. After not finding anything, he went to the closet and combed through the clothes and shoes. Nothing.

Keith sighed and rubbed his temples. I'm being crazy. He looked in the end tables, in the bed and mattress, then the bathroom. Nothing. By then, he threw away all rational thoughts and searched the guest rooms. Then the guest bathroom and half-bath.

Keith groaned and slammed his hand against the wall. His head was spinning and his heart raced. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, remembering the medicine cabinet behind it. This is it. The last place, then I'm done.

He carefully lifted his hand and tugged the cabinet open. Various bottles and containers were on the tiny shelves. They all looked normal. Nothing was out of place. Keith took a deep breath and leaned onto the sink, "You are being insane."

Even though he knew it was crazy, he grabbed every container and opened them one by one. It seemed like none of them had lied. Keith picked up the next bottle-a larger one-and laughed at himself. This is so stupid.

But his smile quickly fell when he opened it to a scrunched up plastic bag. His slim fingers hesitantly tugged it out of its hiding spot and brought it into the world. Keith let the empty bottle fall from his hand and crash to the floor. No. Within the confines of the slim plastic was a pile of white crystals. It swayed from side to side with every one of Keith's movements. He spoke to it as he stepped out of the bathroom and went to the kitchen, tossing it onto the counter. "Please don't be what I think you are."

Keith pulled out his phone and set it on the counter. He picked up the bag and opened it to sniff what was inside. It didn't give off any smell, so Keith closed it and put it back down. He found Shiro's name and texted him.

K: Hey what drugs are white crystals?

He stood up straight and crossed his arms. His eyes stayed locked on the bag. When his phone chimed, he immediately snatched it.

S: Um...I mean that could be meth, heroine, cocaine, maybe other stuff. That's pretty broad. Why?

K: What about the smell? What if it doesn't smell like anything?

S: Keith, are you alright?

Keith groaned in frustration.

K: Just answer me.

S: Hm....I guess it would be cocaine. Can you tell me why? Are you doing homework?

Keith stopped and read his message a couple times. His eyes flickered between the bag and his phone for a minute.

K: Yeah, just some research. Thanks.

Keith slipped his phone back into his pocket and went back to the bathroom to retrieve the bottle. It was empty, so he opened the rest of them he hadn't checked. In one, there was a cloudy razor blade. He closed his eyes and sighed in disappointment.

What was he supposed to do? Lance was so obviously doing cocaine. The attitude, the nosebleed, the junkie friends. It all made sense now. Keith stared at the bottom of the opaque white bottle and tried to sort it all out.

He stared at it for nearly an hour. Then carefully replaced the razor blade and put all of the bottles back. Keith returned to the kitchen and snatched the bag, bringing it back to where Lance had hidden it. He stopped to think as he tried to calm his chest. In the end, he carefully stuffed it back into the bottle and put it on the shelf.

Keith closed the cabinet with defeated hands and left the room. He ran his fingers through his hair as he drifted over to the couch. Picking up the remote to turn on the TV, he sat down and hugged his knees. Keith let his forehead rest on them as he closed his eyes. He sighed, This is all I can do.

Besides, how do I know this wasn't my fault?