#p:gold

More often than not, Anya’s best intentions wound her in the last place she thought she’d be. It was the naivety she was cursed with, laced with too much trust for those around her; a toxic combination she hadn’t quite learned to shake herself of. Recognizing the risk, she made her way to Chris’ house as soon as Power Squad practice was released, determined to piece her night back together. Eventually she found her way back to the house, struck with new nerves as she approached the stoop. Lifting to knock on the front door, she wasn’t kept waiting long until she was faced with the occupant and invited in.

“Hey,” Chris greeted, a bright smile curling his lips.

He has such nice teeth... no, knock it off, you’re not here for him!

“Hey,” she returned, aligning her thoughts. “Um, I was wondering if you could remind me what all went down last night,” she inquired, deciding it was best just to dive right in. His grin turned to a smirk.

“You mean other than me?”

Anya’s blush was surely visible now, and she accepted it if only to get further into the retracing. “No, I remember that part,” she murmured, blinking her line of vision anywhere but on Chris. “Did you... give me anything last night? Besides drinks,” she clarified, anxious for his answer. His face fell at once and her nerves doubled.

“Wait, you think I drugged you?” His tone was gentle and he seemed more hurt than angry by the accusation she hadn’t meant to make. She could only take that as a good sign.

“No, no, I don’t, I was actually wondering if... I drugged myself, I guess? Did you see me doing anything or did we do it together? Anything?”

He was hesitant, and Anya didn’t know how much more she could take of this. She came to question Chris but found herself feeling interrogated instead. She’d do what all was physically possible to keep herself from breaking down and crying herself calm like she generally favored to do. Not here, not now.

It took a moment to register that Chris was leaving the room, and instinctively she followed him down the hall into the room she recognized from waking up in. “Taylor told me that you used to party,” he spoke, plucking something from the end table and perching himself at the foot of the bed. The white powder came into her line of vision right away, and she couldn’t help herself but let her jaw go slack, astonished by the carefree nature of the boy before her. He was still talking, but she was too transfixed to hear the words, instead watching closely as he dashed a line across the back of his hand, gone no sooner than it appeared.

It had been a difficult few months. Anya knew where to get drugs if she wanted them that bad, she was always able to find a connect, but until now she hadn’t been faced this closely with her demon and suddenly her resolve felt much less steel. “What are you doing?” Her voice came as a whisper, and if she didn’t know better, there was a hint of longing, something Chris picked up on. Another line appeared along his skin, this time extending forward towards Anya.

“You want to,” he said plainly, and it wasn’t a lie. She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You can do anything you want, Sticker Book.” Another smile graced his features, but she was too taken back by the specific nickname to take note.

“Wait, why’d you call me that?”

“You started telling me about a sticker book you used to have last night. It was cute,” he answered simply, his hand wavering.

He’s a nice guy. He pays attention to the stupid things you say. You probably already did at least a line last night, what’s one more going to do?

He looked expectant, and Anya’s sick empathy was kicking in again at the exact wrong moment, propelling her a step forward. Her body no longer belonged to her and within a matter of seconds, Chris’ free arm was around her waist as she knelt onto the bed, nestling onto his lap.