I look at the first hurdle, which is getting up the ledge on the first floor. In my overconfident state of mind, I try and jump for it, but I can’t reach it by far. Alex and the guy who hasn’t introduced himself glare at me.

“If you don’t want me to attract attention, you’re gonna have to help me up.” I say, rolling my eyes.

Alex sighs and cups his hands. I get up, and use his shoulder for a second step, pulling me up on the ledge with ease.

I edge myself to the side to round the corner that’s invisible to see from the street. As I get there, I already see Fuzz struggling, stuck halfway in the window, headfirst. I don’t want to see him break his neck as he falls on his head, so I hurry over and grab his feet.

“Yo Fuzz, get back. You’re gonna kill yourself.”

“Oh, hey Ravi.” He giggles. “I was wondering how to go from here.”

He wiggles his half-naked ass back out. His threadbare shirt remains stuck to the wood of the frame, and tears. I hold him steady as he lowers himself from the window.

“Ha.” He smiles, catching his breath. “Now what?”

“Now you pull your pants up.” I tell him. Not that I haven’t seen his ass crack before, that’s almost always on display, but the idea of anyone’s dick getting caught on the splintered wood makes me cringe.

He does as I tell him. “Now give me a leg up.” I instruct. I’ll go in feet first. You can go in headfirst after, and I’ll catch you.

I climb on him, praying he won’t stumble or fall off the ledge. He almost does, but by that time I have just grabbed onto the windowsill, so I manage to hold him steady with my legs.

“Careful Fuzz!”

“Ha, yeah.” He smiles vaguely at me. I swear this guy is just gonna get himself killed someday.

I gently loosen my grip on the younger boy, and push my feet through the window. I twist around slowly before I’m at the fat part where I won’t be able to turn anymore. Then I squeeze my ass though and try lowering myself though the window.

I grunt as the splintered wood scratches my chest through my shirt, hurting like a bitch. Then grunt again when I realise my measly arms are supposed to slowly lower myself down, but don’t have the strength to do it. I bump my chin on the windowsill as the final part rushes in. 

I fall over on my ass hard, and yelp as I hit the floor, hurting in too many places at once. I place my hands on the floor to push myself back up, but find that the floor is sticky. I don’t know why, and I don’t think I want to know. I can’t see shit in here, since the only light coming in is from the dislodged window, which makes for a shiny rectangle on the laminate floor. Otherwise, everything is shrouded in darkness.

“You okay?” Fuzz’ head appears in the opening. “Yeah.” I call back. Come on in, I’ll catch you.”

As he starts climbing in, he’s backlit, so I only see the golden strands of unkempt hair casting a halo over his silhouette. I try as best as I can to steady myself to catch him. As soon as his hands come through, they find my arms. I grab him by the armpits and pull him in.

As his legs slide though the window, the complete weight of the boy shifts on me, and we tumble backwards. I land flat on my back in the goop, with Fuzz on top of me. My head bangs on the floor, and I close my eyes as the shock rolls around in my skull.

“Ha.” He breathes in my face. “That was fun.”

I grunt as I push him off me, and quickly get to my feet. Great, now my head is hurting as well. 

I make the stupid mistake to feel if there's a bump appearing. It probably will, but not that soon. The only think I can feel right now is that I've smeared the sticky muck into my curls. 

I shudder at the thought and wipe my hands on my trousers.

“Come on.” I say, steadying myself. “Let’s find the stairs.”  

“I can’t see you.” Fuzz protests. I feel a hand swatting my side. “Oh, there you are.”

I sigh and take him by the hand. That’s probably the wisest thing to do anyway. If Fuzz finds the stairs before I do, he’s certainly gonna tumble down them.

“We should’ve brought a flashlight.” I say, to the world in general. I'm well aware Fuzz doesn't have one.

“Don’t you have a phone?” He asks.

“Yeah, but I left it in my backpack.” I sigh, feeling like an idiot. The wasted boy by my side doesn’t point that out though.

I navigate by touch, and resent the fact that I’m not wearing gloves. It’s no weather for gloves, but everything I touch is nasty, and I’m not sure what it’s nasty with, which brings out a cascade of contamination fear that gives me the shivers. This used to be an office, right? So why is it sticky?

I have a bad impulse to smell my fingers, but I’m too afraid of what information that’ll convey to act on it. I try not to think of the fact that it's in my hair now as well.

Meanwhile Fuzz is just wandering about cluelessly and giggling.

“So you’re on ketamine now?” I ask him, making conversation to take my mind off all the possible shit that could be on the surfaces my free hand lands on.

“Fuck if I know.” The boy answers with a chuckle. “Found something in Carlos’ pockets and ate it.”

“Jesus Fuzz... Why?” It’s not like I really care, but damn. How can you just…

“Why not?” I can feel him raise his shoulders in a shrug through our shared connection.

“Because you could die, obviously. But also: how can you just stick things in your body without knowing what it is, or what it does? I mean, you must be aiming for something, right? How do you know if random shit is going to give you what you want? What if it does the opposite? What if you mix things that shouldn’t be mixed and permanently damage something, or worse: DIE?!”

I don’t know why I launched into the rant. I know he couldn’t give a crap. Therefore, I’m not really expecting a coherent answer. Or any answer at all, really. So I’m definitely not ready to get the question turned back at me.

“Why do you care?” Fuzz’ voice is soft, and almost sad. It’s not a defensive statement, but a genuine question.

“Of course I care!” I spit out before I have time to think it over. Do I? Or am I only saying what I think I should be saying? Am I being judgemental because that’s just who I am, or does the boy’s health actually concern me? And if so, why?

When Fuzz doesn’t reply, I ask him what I can’t ask myself. “Wouldn’t you care if one of us was systematically poisoning themselves for no reason at all?”

I feel him shrug, so I decide to drop it. I guess we’re all not caring now. Which is fine.

I slightly up our pace and begin my search for oddities sticking out. Like door handles, light switches (not that I have any rational hopes they’d still work) or, god forbid, a banister.    

“I’d care if it was you.” Fuzz suddenly speaks up, startling me.

“Why me?” I ask him, suddenly thoroughly intrigued. Fuzz is much closer to the others than he is to me. He spends more time with them, has more in common with them. Why would he care more about the one that’s not even really his friend?

“Because you can do better. You have a future. You’re super smart, you have a family that loves you…”

“No I don’t, Fuzz.” I cut him off. I don’t want to talk about my family right now. I certainly don’t want to hear how much they love me from someone who’s last seen us together when he was five.

Fuzz doesn’t care apparently. He shrugs again. “Well, at least you have prospects… You could be a doctor, a scientist, a politician, or something else important. Us… we’ll never amount to anything. We can waste our lives living on the edge, experimenting, seeing as nothing we do would change the outcome. We’re all destined to fail. And I, for one, would rather fail whilst being high and spending time with my friends than alone and sober. But that doesn’t apply to you. You shouldn’t even be here.”  

I don’t know how to process that. I get what he’s saying, but I hate that he sees things this way. Sees himself this way. Even though I know that, in all likelihood, he’s right, I feel the need to counter.

“That’s not true. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. If you want it to be something else, you can make it something else. If you’d want to become a doctor…”

He cuts me off with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Yeah. I’ll wish upon a star and suddenly I’m not stupid anymore. And then I’ll go to some fancy highschool, where I will excel at everything and ride my sparkly unicorn home every day, where my parents will hug me and tell me they’re so fucking proud. Sorry Ravi, but I know you’re smarter than this. Don’t lie to me.”

I try biting my lip, but I can't help myself when I spit: “There’s a huge gap between that scenario and being a junkie, Milan.”

He drops my hand as soon as I call him by his name. I’ve offended him, but damn was he asking for it. I was only trying to… What was I even trying?

“Technically, the chances of me riding that unicorn are better on drugs than without them.” I hear a giggle from behind me.

Then a stumble.