wake up // lil xan

shine hard.

trigger warning: smut / self harm is mentioned in this chapter, briefly. take care of yourselves, angels.

1 Year Later

A year had gone by after my first time having withdrawals with Gus, and a lot had changed. Withdrawals had been here and there throughout the months, but not as much recently because Gus was making it. His music started gaining more spins and downloads, record labels were looking at him, and he kept getting tattoos. Hellboy had been released and eventually caught enough traction on the internet to become noticed by crowds and cliques. Now we were out traveling around and crashing with people we'd met on Instagram and Twitter. Weed and xans were there at the drop of a hat as long as Gus was there. Everything seemed to be falling into place as Gus kept carving his own way into the music scene. We were always at the best parties with the best plugs and the best girls.

I woke up in the late afternoon and felt a pounding in my head as Gus was stumbling around and shouting.

"The fuck, bro?" I yelped as he jerked my blanket off of me.

"I have a goddamn interview with GQ! What the fuck?" He paced around, tossing clothes around, searching for something.

My eyes snapped to his, "Bro, what the fuck?"

His eyes were clamped shut as he shook his head, "I'm so anxious. This is a big deal."

I stood up from the bed and grabbed him by his biceps. His brown eyes were overflowing with anxiety and worry. Rubbing his arms softly, I tried to console him, "Peep, listen. This is just your head being mean to you for no good reason. You're the fucking coolest guy I know with the best tattoos and greatest personality. All of your fans know that and nothing about this interview will change that. Just act like you're at a party tryna pull someone."

He nodded and popped in two xans, "Fuck, I needed that. You're right, baby nyquil."

I wrinkled my nose at my new found nickname from a week earlier when I had been passing out at a club from all of the Xanax. Peep found me and just started calling me baby nyquil while he was rolling on molly, it just stuck for him.

Two pills were pushed to my lips, and I swallowed them greedily. It became a morning routine for us that whoever woke up first popped the xans for the other while the later one rolled the blunt. We never discussed it, but it's apart of our daily routine now. I licked the rillo as I watched peep talk to Trace on the phone.

"Baby..." Peep whined, "No, I do miss you..." He paused for what I assumed was Trace yelling at him.

"Yeah, I'll see you soon," He comforted.

"Bye, love you," he whispered. Trace must have said one last thing because the last of the conversation I heard was Gus apologizing.

The air was tense after the call and I looked up to see Peep just staring into space, as if he'd find answers for a question. I studied his expression, one I have seen too many times in the past year. His brow was pinched together and his eyes were glassy as he clawed at his lips with his long nails. The red was chipping around the edges, probably from him picking at them.

I cleared my throat and stood up, "We boutta jet?"

"Yeah, yeah. Shit, sorry, bro. Just preoccupied," he mumbled, while shuffling towards the bathroom.

Minutes later, as we were about to leave, he emerged from the bathroom and I blinked as I saw smeared blood on his arms that led to his favorite spot to harm, right under his biceps. His tired brown eyes locked with mine and I gave him a stiff nod.