love it if we made it ✔

Maman.

Jace.

               Too wired to sleep, I ended up pacing the length of the house, confused over the inexplicable pain in my right hand whenever I extended my fingers. 

I massaged my knuckles gently, my bones clicking soundlessly as I pressed on them. The faintest smear of blue over the knuckles of my fore and middle finger caught the light. 

I couldn't eat. My stomach cramped, and I ended up spending a good amount of the day sitting in my walk-in shower, with the water turned off, because the tiles were the perfect temperature to ease my stomach.

There was a saying, that I heard Cole utter many times; the only way to survive the comedown is to do it all again -

I would rather fucking die.

"You look like you're in pain," my little brother told me, bearing witness to my pitiful come down on Dad's imported, French, tiles.

"I am," I wheezed, hands clutching at my chest. I laid with my head on the edge of the shower, observing Damien through the glass shower screen. He had Dads dark, navy blue eyes, but Mums heart shaped face. The urge to protect him - to give anything to protect him - submerged me. "Do me a favour?"

"What?" Damien cracked open the shower screen door, and stepped in, sitting beside me.

"Don't ever do drugs."

Damien smirked, rolling his eyes. "Sure."

I rested my feet on the granite feature wall of the shower, my arms folded over my waist, and glared. "I'm serious, if I ever hear you've done drugs, I'll hit you cause you're a fucking idiot."

Damiem thought for a moment. "Did you do drugs last night?"

"Yes," I said, the immediate honesty catching Damien off guard momentarily.

"So you're a hypocrite?" He argued, mimicking the position in which I laid in on the shower floor.

"Damn straight."

He scoffed, kicking me a little too harshly in the leg. In return, I slugged him in the arm.

He climbed to his feet and kicked me again for good measure. I caught his leg and attempted to wrestle him down. "I'm serious Damien! Don't be a little shit!"

"I'll be a little shit if I wanna be!" He shoved me off, and tried to run. 

I grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him back. "But if you ever do drugs, and you feel like you're in trouble, you know you can call me, and I'll come whenever you are?"

Damien exhaled. "Okay."

"I'm serious."

"Are you still drunk?" He asked, impassively, groaning at me.

Again, the act of impulsive honesty inexplicably overcame me. "No, I'm coming down. And my body hates me for it."

"Jace," he said, leaning down until his face was centimetres away from mine, and his striking resemblance to Mum was no longer ignorable, "I think you've successfully put me off drug use for the rest of my life."

"Good," I slapped his cheek affectionately.

He rolled his eyes once more and left me alone to wallow.

My phone fell from my pocket. I fumbled for it, but but my jittering hands knocked it further from my reach.

I got ahold of it, and found messages between Lola and I. 

You to Lola, 1:45 am; come to the pool 

Lola to you, 1:45 am; no, come dance

Lola to you, 1:58 am; or leave me on read, either way asshole