If I could scrub a single day off the calendar of my life, it would be this one.

It was a seemingly normal afternoon. Chris and I were sitting by the bleachers during lunch. We didn’t usually hang out alone at school, but after all the stress he’d been through that week, I wanted to check in. See if he was doing okay.

“How’d the test go?” I asked.

Chris ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling briefly before falling back to his side. He looked a little better than before, a touch less hollow, but he still carried that edge of unease.

“It was okay,” he said with a small shrug. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

“I bet you’ll do great. As always.” I smiled, trying to reassure him. But the way his shoulders tensed told me I might’ve made it worse.

 Idiot.

“That’s the problem,” he muttered. “Everyone expects me to do great. What happens if I don’t? Everyone will be disappointed.”

Sometimes I didn’t know how to help him. His dad wasn’t a helicopter parent—more like hands-off to a fault. I was pretty sure no one would actually be disappointed in Chris. So why did he carry so much weight on his back?

“Sometimes I wish the bar wasn’t so high, you know?”

“I’m sorry you feel like that,” I said. “But honestly, if you don’t do great, it’s still fine. There’ll be other chances.”

He looked at me for a beat, then said, “I wish I were more like you.”

That caught me off guard. Who the hell would want to be like me?

“You sure? It’s kinda chaotic in here.” I tapped my temple.

“Same here.” He smiled—and God, I swear that boy would be the death of me.

Then he said, “Listen... my dad’s staying at his girlfriend’s tonight, and I switched my shift. Do you wanna... sleep over?”

Sleepover? Just the two of us. Alone. My heart did a weird somersault.

“Yeah! Sure. I’ll ask my mom, but I’m pretty sure it’s okay.”

“It’s a date, then.”

My phone buzzed before I could fully enjoy the moment. It was a call from Tracy. Which was strange, she never calls. Who even makes calls nowadays?

“Tracy?” I answered.

Her voice sounded thin, like it was about to break. Something told me right away that something was wrong.

“What’s wrong, Tracy? Where are you?”

 “In the auditorium. It’s Jamie. Please come quickly.”

 “Okay, okay, just hang in there.”

“Shit...” I muttered.”

“What is it?” Chris asked, already sitting up straighter.”

“It’s Jamie. She says it’s urgent.”

***

Backstage at the auditorium was dim and still. Tracy was crouched beside Jamie, who was slumped against the wall like a broken puppet.

“What happened?” I asked, out of breath.

“I was doing homework when I heard something crash. Found him like this,” she said, voice tight with panic, hands shaking.

Jamie was soaked in sweat, breathing too fast, his head rolling as he mumbled something unintelligible.

“Shit. He’s ODing!” My chest squeezed like it might collapse. I couldn’t breathe.

I’d known this was coming. The signs had been there for weeks. And I’d done nothing.

Then I felt Chris’s hands on my shoulders—cool, steadying.

“Troy. Look at me.”

I blinked hard and found his face. Calm despite the chaos.

“I don’t think he’s overdosing. But I need to know, what did he take?”

“I... I don’t know,” I stammered. “He said something about pills. Just pills. K.”

Tracy, trembling, pulled out her phone. “It says here that if it’s pills, it depends on the dose. Did he drink?”

Chris knelt in front of Jamie. “Jamie. Hey, Jamie.” He shook him gently. “Did you drink anything today?”

Jamie barely shook his head. “Didn’t... want to sleep. Just wanted it to stop...”

His voice was ragged and drifting.

“He’s just high,” Chris concluded.

Tracy’s voice cracked. “We should call someone. A teacher. Or 911.”

“No!” I said quickly. Too quickly.

“What do you mean no?!”

“You don’t get it. If they call home, his dad will find out. And Jamie’s the one who’ll pay for it.”

Her eyes widened. “So are we supposed to let him die, or something?!”

Her face shifted in a way I’ll never forget.

Before I could answer, Chris stepped in. “It’s okay, Tracy. He’s not gonna die. But we have to take him somewhere else.”

I looked at Chris. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to.

He sighed. “We’ll take him to my place. Let him sleep it off there.”

“Thank you...” I said, already moving.

We lifted Jamie together, one arm over each shoulder. He groaned but didn’t resist. Tracy led the way, making sure the halls were clear. I fished Jamie’s car keys from his jacket.

***

As we reached the parking lot, Jamie leaned forward and vomited onto the pavement.

We all froze.

“This is good, right?” Tracy’s voice cracked.

“I think so. Better out than in,” Chris said, nodding toward the back seat.

 “Let’s just get him home.”

***

The car ride was silent. Chris didn’t have a license yet—driving made him too anxious—and Tracy was too shaken. So I was the only one left.

Tracy sat in the back with Jamie, whispering things I couldn’t hear. I kept checking the mirror, even though there was nothing I could do from the front seat.

When we reached Chris’s house, we half-carried Jamie upstairs. He was a heavy dead weight in every sense.

Tracy pulled back the covers. We laid him down gently. He mumbled nonsense while we tried to reassure him. Maybe it helped. Maybe just knowing someone was there helped.

Chris read something off his phone. “We need to roll him on his side. So he doesn’t choke.”

Tracy and I followed his instructions while Chris left to find a bucket. When he returned, he set it beside the bed.

“If you get sick, use the bucket, okay?”

Jamie made a noise in response. I hoped he understood.

Chris closed the blinds just enough to dim the light, not enough to drown the room in darkness.

“What now?” I asked.

“We keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s breathing okay. And we wait.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of hours. Maybe more.”

They went downstairs to grab food. I stayed behind. Watching Jamie made my stomach churn.

He looked like a ghost. Pale skin, dark shadows under his eyes. Like something wilted in the rain. A ruined version of the golden boy he used to be.

And I realized how close I could’ve been to ending up just like him.

Chris and Tracy came back with sandwiches and Coke. Tracy was crying silently. I stood and hugged her.

She melted into me.

“That was so scary,” she whispered. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did great,” I said. “Calling me was the right call. Right, Chris?”

“Yeah,” he said gently. “He’s going to be okay. Thanks to you.”

I offered to call Matt for her—her boyfriend, a guy I barely knew but trusted. She nodded.

Before she left, she hesitated. “What about you and Chris?”

“We’ve got each other,” Chris said. “You go rest.”

I was grateful. Because without Chris, I didn’t know how I’d have made it through.

After Matt picked her up, I just stood there, staring at the floor. Guilt crawled up my throat.

Jamie was my friend. Not theirs. And now they were part of this mess too.

Behind me, Jamie made a low sound. Not quite a groan. Not quite a breath. But enough to remind me he was still here. Alive.

I turned and hugged Chris tight, burying myself in that warmth.

I don’t want to neglect anyone, but this is too much. It’s Jamie. It’s Tracy. It’s Chris.

And I’m so fucking useless...

“How are you feeling?” I asked him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m more worried about you. Do you feel any better now?”

“I’m sorry I freaked out. It was embarrassing. But I—” I sighed. “I kept seeing the signs. And I just let it happen. Like if I ignored it, maybe it wouldn’t get worse.”

He gently took my face in his hands.

“That wasn’t embarrassing,” he said. “You’re talking to the guy who panics every time someone mentions a party.”

That made me smile. Because he got it. He got me.

“I’m scared, too,” he admitted. “Just... in a different way.”

We sat there together, waiting. Making small talk. Absorbing everything we could find online about this kind of thing.

Eventually, Jamie stirred.

“...Where...?” His voice was barely there.

“You’re at Chris’s. You passed out. We brought you here.”

He blinked slowly, eyes glassy. “What?”

“There was a crash. Tracy found you backstage. You scared the hell out of us.”

He winced, trying to sit up.

“I don’t remember that,” he muttered. “Shit... I thought I dreamed this.”

“No dream. But you’re safe.”

“...Did I OD?”

“No. But it was close.”

“I didn’t mean to...”

He rubbed his face like he wanted to erase himself.

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned—loud and broken.

He half screamed, half groaned, and I’ve never heard anything like that before.

If desperation has a sound, that’s it.

And I never want to hear it again.

He stayed there, rocking back and forth, hugging his legs, head buried in his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally whispered.

 “I swear I didn’t think it’d hit me like that. I just wanted everything to shut up. Just for a while.”

“What did you take?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe more than usual,” he said, clearly hiding his arm under the sheet.

Chris came back with a sandwich.

“Eat something,” he said, voice flat. “You’ll feel better.”

“I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t mean to.”

Chris’s jaw tensed. Then relaxed. I knew he wanted to lash out. Call him a fucking idiot. I wanted to.

But it wouldn’t help. Jamie already knew how much of an idiot he was.

“It’s over. I’m just glad you’re still here,” Chris said.

“You gotta stop this, Jamie,” I added. “Seriously.”

“You don’t get it, Troy!” he snapped.

Chris scoffed loudly, his patience slipping.

But Jamie didn’t stop.

“You think I don’t want to stop? I’ve never wanted anything more in my fucking life!”

“But it’s not like I can just snap my fingers and, poof, sober. You smoke. At least you should get it,” he said, pointing at me. “Now imagine that times a thousand.”

“I don’t get high for fun anymore. I don’t even feel good when I do.”

“I just get high because my fucking head can’t take reality anymore.”

“Because my body shuts down when I try to ‘just stop.’”

“I get high now just to feel like I’m not dying.”

“I’m just... so fucking tired.”

I looked at Chris. I didn’t know what else to say. Because Jamie was right.

“I’m sorry, Jamie... Just eat something and rest, okay?”

That’s all I could offer. I didn’t have the solution. I didn’t even know where to start.

Chris tapped my shoulder.

“Can I talk to you?”

I nodded. He led me to the bathroom and pulled Jamie’s phone from his pocket.

“Do you know if there’s anyone we can call? His mom? An uncle? Aunt?”

I shook my head. Then paused.

“Wait, his grandma. He’s mentioned her before. She used to pick him up from school sometimes when we were kids. We can try her. I mean, she’s gotta be better than his dad, right?”

“Yeah. Good idea. I’ll call. Just keep him busy.”

***

I went back to Jamie. Tried to keep him talking. Focused on how he was feeling physically. Anything to keep him from spiraling. The room smelled faintly of sweat and leftover panic. I could hear Chris’s low voice murmuring through the wall as he spoke on the phone.

Right before dinner, the doorbell rang. Chris left. When he returned, Jamie’s grandmother was with him.

Jamie blinked. “Wait... Did you call her?”

“Chris did,” I said.

“Oh.”

He didn’t argue. Just deflated. Like all the fight had left him.

She knelt by his bed, whispered something I couldn’t hear. He nodded. Said nothing.

Chris and I went downstairs.

I hadn’t thought to call her. Couldn’t. But Chris had. Because he knew what needed to be done.

And that hit me harder than I expected.

 I’d frozen. Chris hadn’t.

 While I was panicking, blaming myself, he’d done what needed doing.

Jamie left with her later that evening, thanking us with eyes full of shame.

***

We drove his car near his parents’ house and parked a few blocks away.

Then we went to my place. I wasn’t going to leave him home alone, but neither of us wanted to stay at his house either. It felt too empty. Too quiet.

It was nice to be in a full house again. The sound of footsteps going up and down the stairs, the opening and closing of bathroom doors. The clink of dishes. Strangely comforting.

I threw a thin foam mattress on the floor next to my bed and lay down. I made Chris take the bed instead. He argued, of course, but gave in.

What I really wanted was to sleep curled up with him. But yeah... not gonna happen.

Still, tonight, I just needed to know someone was still here. Still breathing. Still mine to hold onto.

I thought about Jamie’s words. The shaking. The way he held his arms like they were the only things keeping him from unraveling. I used to do that. Not with pills, but with silence. With numbness. I used to think that if I ignored the weight pressing down, it would just disappear.

But it never does.

Chris shifted on the bed, the glow of the TV reflecting softly across his face. I watched him for a while—the rise and fall of his chest, the way his brow softened in sleep.

Eventually, I closed my eyes and let the sound of the TV hum lull me under too.