Also, just thought I should mention, but this book will probably just be a walking trigger warning, so I warn you now - read at your own risk.

Alastair woke up drenched in sweat, teeth clattering so loud they seemed to reverberate through his skull. His vision was hazy, at the least, and it took him three tries to push himself up into a sitting position. His head swam and vomit surged up his throat.

He clamped his mouth shut, swallowing the acid back down.

Alastair drooped, his head falling against his knee, eyes falling shut as he waited for his body to calm down. He counted to five before standing up, wobbling precariously like a newborn fawn, and making his way to his drawer. His hands trembled uncontrollably as he fumbled for a grip on the small ledge that worked as the handle. It took some concentration, but he got the draw open, hands automatically reaching for the full syringe he knew would be inside.

His fingers brushed cool metal, and his hand snapped shut on the syringe, pulling it from the draw so quick he set himself off balance. It was either the impact of him hitting the floor, or the fact that he was so desperate that snapped him out of his trance.

What...

Alastair caught sight of the syringe, droplets of liquid dripping from its rusted tip and felt his blood run cold. He had been trying to quit. It had been two days since he had last opened that drawer, since he had felt the blunt tip of the needle break his skin.

And he had nearly ruined it all.

The thought sickened him and he scrunched a hand tight in his hair.

He needed out of this cursed place.

Tomorrow?

His head ached and he knew he couldn't wait that long.

Today. Right now.

 A knock on the door brought him from the downward spiral he had begun to descend. 

"Lis?" Acelin's voice barely reached his ears, but he burst into motion, snatching up the syringe and stuffing it back into the drawer.

His head spun, but the door wasn't going to unlock itself, and the only people who had they key to his room was the Florez', and if his brother called them up... 

Alastair almost threw up at the thought.

"One sec!" He called, forcing energy into his steps as he hobbled to the door, flicking the lock and opening it a crack. He peeked out, almost startled by his face staring back at him. Sometimes he forgot they were twins. "Why're you here, Lin?"

His twin raised a perfect eyebrow.

"You're sick, so I'm here to check on you." Acelin reached through the gap and pressed his hand  to Alastair's forehead. After some consideration, he nodded, "You're feeling much cooler today, are you coming to school?"

Today?

He hadn't even realised he'd been out for the whole night. 

Alastair forced a chuckle, stepping back from the door.

"I'll get dressed and be right out." He didn't wait for a response before disappearing back into his room, knowing that his twin would wait for him downstairs.

He almost froze when the door creaked behind him, Acelin following him inside. Alastair cast a panicked gaze around the room, checking the mess for anything that could give him away to his twin. A bag of white powder caught his eye, and he stripped off his shirt, nonchalantly chucking it onto the bag.

He made a show of sniffing himself before making a beeline for his bathroom.

"On second thoughts, I need a shower as well," He snagged the pieces of his uniform from the ground as he went, glancing over his shoulder at his clean-freak of a twin, hoping that he would be so horrified at the mess that he would leave. When Acelin made no move to go, he shrugged, "Feel free to use the bed if the floor disturbs you too much."

***

Alastair made his shower fast. 

Ok maybe he spent ten minutes humming Mr Trance while rubbing strawberry scented shampoo through his hair, (strawberry shampoo is superior to all others), and then another five marvelling at himself in the mirror afterwards.

What could he say, even sick he was pretty.

"Hurry up, Lis!" He heard his brother groan, and a smile tugged at Alastairs lips as he shouted a response.

"As if you're any better, princess!" 

He finished tying his hair back into a small pony-tail, frowning as a few blonde wisps escaped at the front. Although only shoulder-length, Alastair hated it when his hair got in his way, but always kept it long despite that because Acelin insisted it made him look better.

Much better than when he went bald back in 2nd grade.

Now that was a phase he'd rather wipe from his memories (and all photos). Luckily the latter happened when their house burned down a year later. It was one of the better things, of that day.

He swung the door open, catching sight of Acelin sitting on his bed as he ducked under a pillow obviously aimed at his head. It landed in the bathroom with a small thunk.

Rolling his eyes, Alastair scooped some clothes off the floor, scrunched them into small balls and pegged them at his brother. Acelin squeaked as he rolled off the bed, doing his best to avoid the decidedly dirty pieces of clothing.

"You wouldn't dare," His brother hissed lightly, eyeing the next bundle of (dirty) underwear Alastair had aimed at him.

Alastair gave him a shit eating grin.

"You know I would." Before he had even finished speaking, he had thrown the clothing and Acelin bolted for the door, slamming it shut behind him as he made his escape.

Alastair laughed, collecting his phone and bag from their places on his bed, slowly making his way after Acelin. He had a feeling that today would be a good day.

***

As far as feelings go, Alastair has discovered, as he aged, that his ability to be always right was dulling. When his daily Math nap was interrupted right off the bat, he knew that his day was going to be horrible. 

Days were rarely good without naps, after all.

And he was going to need one, with everything he was planning.

Alastair almost punched the brunet shaking his shoulder.

"What?" Alastair groaned, glaring into the green eyes of his best (and only) friend.

"Dude, we have the scariest fucking sub teacher today," Oliver whispered, nodding towards the front of the classroom, where the oldest lady Alastair had ever seen at his school was adjusting her glasses, her small eyes glowering as she looked around the room.

They made eye contact.

Alastair shivered and he swore her eyes narrowed.

He shared a pained look with Oliver.

"Creepy old bat." He whispered.

Oliver nodded solemly, dejectedly tracing a star in his notebook.

Alastair followed his friend's lead.

They had no choice but to draw sad stars until the lesson was finished.