You Were My Favorite Mistake [Gentlemiss & CharlotteV]

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There's something almost romantic about knowing your life was going to hell before it ever happened. Romantic in a twisted sort of way...like a Shakespeare play...written in the smoke that lifted up into the sky. Here. Gone. Drifting into nothingness. Leaving only the barest hint of a smell that it was there at all before it's just...gone.

"Scale of Lidnesy Lohan to Bob Marley, how high are you right now?"

Niko snorts, coughs at the feeling it leaves in his throat, and shakes his head as he waves through the sheen of smoke in front of him. The romanticism fades away as he takes his eyes off the sky, faced with the same dingy alleyway walls he's been looking at for the past year, the same scent of cat piss and expired garbage filling the air. He wonders, for a moment, how his life got here. But that's a dangerous path to go down.

"Bored housewife dealing with her husbands affair," he answers instead, glaring at the badly rolled joint between his fingers like it was solely responsible for all of his problems. Which is was responsible for one -- the high he was obviously lacking. It was giving him a headache.

Beside him, Justin Blake makes a face, and it takes him a second too long to figure out what Niko actually meant before he shakes his head and sits back against the wall. "Ough bro, that's a bad trip."

"It's a mellow trip," Niko complains, but he takes another hit anyway because, damn it, he paid for this shit. "If I have to go down on Quin one more time for ecstasy because of this I might seriously consider switching teams."

Justin arches an eyebrow at that. "One, Lacey asked you to guess what size her boobs were last week and you nearly puked. You could not handle being straight. Two, Quin Parker is hot, I would kill to go down on him. Three, he's not dealing anymore."

Niko sighs, regards his joint one more time, but eventually gives up on it. He's not even sure where the weed came from he was ingesting, but he was willing to bet some kids closet. "You know what they say about steroids and dicks? It's true."

Justin stares at him for a moment then irrupts in a fit of giggles that means at least someone is high. Niko has half the mind to punch the bastard out of envy, but he doesn't. He sighs angrily, throws the last of his shitty joint across the road, and drops his head back against the grimy wall. "How is this my life?" he whines to the sky, which cares less than his stupid friends.

"Are you sober, Niky?" Amy what's-her-face asks, a soft giggle falling off her lips as she stumbles her way closer to them. She's passed the Bob Marley point already, glassy eyes barely focusing on him. "I don't think I've ever seen you sober."

Niko flips her off lazily, but that doesn't stop him from pushing up off the ground, dusting his hands against his knees as he walks over to her. "Can you fix that?"

Amy shakes her head as she leans one shoulder on the bricks, scratching at her right arm while her focus drifts. She plays in hard shit, shit Niko himself isn't ready to admit even exists, much less touch. But she knows how the streets work. "Sorry kid, I ain't carrying no more. Streets are all dried up."

Niko sighs frustratedly, but behind him Justin stops fumbling with the second joint he's completely failing at rolling. "Hit you too? Damn. Flynn Nathan's?"

There it was again. That name. Niko frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. He'd heard it a lot in the last few weeks. Some big shot who was taking over the drug game. He'd already shut down a lot of the big players, which was cutting out the middle connections like Amy and Quin. That wasn't what bothered him, though. Niko knew that name. He just...couldn't remember where...and the size of his wallet wasn't going to get him any more information.

"You've got that look on your face again," Justin says, pointing at him...or, well, near him. At least he tried. "That same look you got when you tagged cocksucker on Jacob Eves locker."

Niko smirks, shakes his head a little and shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he starts the walk home. "Whatever. Stay out of trouble Justin. I'm going to go find me some real drugs." 

***
"What are you doing?!"

Niko ignores Toby's increasingly annoying twelve n year old voice in favor of dumping out the crate of CD's, picking up any random piece of paper that falls out of it. Receipts, gum wrappers, a...

Niko arches an eyebrow, turns to Toby and holds up what he's pretty sure is some kind of XXX playing card. It's fraying around the edges, has a crude saying on the back, and the girl in the pictures has knockers the size of her head.

"T-that's not yours!" Toby stutters, face going red, before he crosses the room and snatches it out of Niko's hand. Which, obviously, but what the hell? Freaking heterosexuals. "Would you stop now? What are you even looking for?"

"Take that picture and go figure out what your dick is for," Niko counters, pointing off towards the bathroom haphazardly before he starts going through CD cases. Half of them are empty, a good bit are broken, but they're all disappointing. He tosses them away carelessly, reaches for another, when something under his bed catches his eye. A box, in the back corner...

"Niiiko!" Toby persists, spinning around in a circle. "I can't even get to my side of the room!"

"Not my problem," Niko grumbles, kicking shit out of the way as he drops down on his stomach, trying to pull himself under a space made for fucking five year olds. He growls when he can't get to it, and then the stupid kid is crouching down next to him.

"What are you tryin' ta get?" Toby asks, nosy as always, and Niko makes a sound of frustration before dropping his forehead on the ground.

Finally, he points. "That box."

Toby's quiet for a moment, then he hears the kid lay down more than sees it. There's a shaking motion, some dust, and when Niko glances up the little asshole actually managed to make it under. If ever there was a cause of celebration for malnourishment.

"What's in here?" Toby asks when he gets back, hair sticking up, dirt on his nose. The box in his hand is so dusty Niko's not even sure what color it was supposed to be. "Porn?"

Niko snorts, grabs it out of his hands an flips the top open. "Not the kind you'd like," he mutters, mostly under his breath, before he's digging through a couple of old sketchbooks, three lollipops that he hands over to Toby (they're probably disgusting anyway), health class condoms he didn't actually know he had, and then finally at the very bottom...

He grabs the paper out, lets the box drop as he unfolds it. There, in neat handwriting, is the name Pearce Flynn Nathans. With a phone number. So he sends a text:

heard you might have some stuff I'm interested in
Niko M

Pearce Nathans was a blast from the past. A name he never particularly thought he'd hear again...the kind of person that's in your life for one little stint and then never again. Honestly it wasn't even a name Niko should have remembered.

His eyes drift lazily over the sketches he drew as a boy, the outlines of Pearce's shape. He looked young, even in an image...childhood obsessions frozen over time. He brings the cigarette back to his lips slowly, exhales.

He smirks slightly, remembering what his sticky fingers had gotten him into that one day. He actually couldn't recall the last time he'd eaten that much...

He checks his phone again, frowning as another ten minutes tick by. Had he been wrong? It was completely possible. Certainly he hadn't been too vague...

"What are you waiting on?" Toby asks, sounding pissed again now that he's having to kick Niko's mess away from his side of the room. "A text from your boyfriend, faggot?"

"what did you just call me?" His phone gets abandoned for the time it takes him to chase Toby out the door and hold him over the banister, cigarette only inches away from burning holes into the back of the brats neck while they talk about what words are nice and what words aren't.

When he gets back there's a text waiting for him.

***
Niko gets more and more anxious the longer the bus keeps going, checking the address over and over on his phone. He'd expected the usual haunts - beside a dumpster, abandoned building, maybe even a parking garage. But this? No, they were going into the upper edge of the city.

He's nearly sweating by the time he has to get off. Which is ridiculous because he's not wearing much. Baggy jeans, blank tank, a plaid button down that didn't actually button anymore. The cold air is actually refreshing.

It said a lot about his personality that he was more worried about being in a rich part of town than buying drugs. Go fucking figure. He runs his hands through his hair a few times, counts the money in his pocket once more, then starts walking.

At least the address goes to an apartment complex. That much he can handle. So he steps up, knocks, and decides to consider himself lucky if the door opens.

Niko liked to think he was prepared for a lot of things life threw at him. He could usually tell when a punch was coming before it hit him, knew about the right time a new foster family was done with his shit, and could usually guess which teachers were going to throw his ass in detention the most.

Pearce Nathan's was definitely not something he was prepared for. How old was he now? Eighteen or close to it. God. All grown up and gorgeous. He was still fucking pretty, but his jawline had sharpened up, his shoulders had broadened, he'd grown over six foot no doubt, and there was a well defined torso Niko wanted to lick.

He didn't even realize how hard he'd been appreciating the view until Pearce spoke. His mouth twisted up into a smirk at being recognized. "Rich boy," he mutters as a reply, following Pearce inside when he gets the chance.

The apartments not big, something like a studio, hell if he knows. But it's impressive. Obviously the stuff around it costs a pretty penny, but Niko thinks his favorite is the tv. He's never even seen a tv that big. Damn he bet it has awesome graphics.

He folds his arms across his chest when he gets to the kitchen, leans his hip against the counter. Pearce's back is just as impressive as his front, muscled and perfect and...Niko could leave claw marks down it. God, he bet Pearce could make him leave claw marks down it.

He shakes head a little, clearing the thoughts from his mind, and suddenly wishes he was outside again because when did it get this fucking hot? "I've got seventy five dollars," he offers, which is the most cash he's ever had on him because the damn market dried up. Granted forty of it he lifted from his foster moms purse but she probably wouldn't notice. "I'll take whatever that can get me. I've heard your prices are pretty steep."

Drugs anywhere weren't exactly cheap, not if you were looking for the good stuff, but at this point if all the cash in his pocket got him one pill he'd be fine. He just needed something. He was starting to get an itch.

It's funny how people change over time. Niko remembered the Pearce he'd dared to call a friend, the cute little-boy-in-trouble with his growing sarcasm and bright smiles. This Pearce...no, Flynn, was different. Too hot for his own good, especially with that little bit of stubble...would that leave marks on him? Maybe between his thighs?

Jesus Christ when did he become such a whore?

At least with drugs on the table he's distracted from looking at all of that. Nicko picks up the bag the moment it slides over to him, untying the top so he can shift through it. He's been on the streets long enough he can pinpoint what everything is...and know the second Pearce demands forty of him it's way too cheap.

He arches an eyebrow slowly, peaking up at Pearce before tying the bag back up. "What, am I too pretty to pay full price?" he makes sure his tone is easy though, joking, because he sure as hell wasn't the kind to kick a gift in the mouth. He pockets his newfound treasures before counting the bills out that he owes -- a few crumbled enough that he does the honors of flattening before tossing them on the counter. "And hey, I wasn't complaining. I'm all for tossing over a little extra cash so I don't accidentally die."

Reckless as Niko was, he definitely didn't have a death wish. He just...wanted to fade away for a little while. Forget the world and everything in it that left him feeling like shit on a daily basis. He wanted to forget he didn't mean anything to anyone. Forget that he was worthless. He wanted warmth and security and...something better to look at than his life for a little while.

He finds himself lingering for a moment, and it's stupid, because he has what he wants and it's not like this isn't his first buy - he knows how these things go. So finally he shoves his hands deep in his pockets, nods. "Pleasure doing business with you," and because he has absolutely no self control, winks. "I'll be in touch."

"Did you know that's on fire?"

"Huh?" Niko looks down at Cassie and she arches an eyebrow (the one covered in a bandage because last week she thought she could pierce it with a stapler) before pointing at the dish of rice that's, as she'd mentioned, flaming. "Shit," he grumbles, dropping Victor from his hip and picking up an empty pan to throw on top of it. The lack of oxygen cuts off the flame, but it doesn't stop a few pieces from being decidedly black.

There's a crash, followed by a scream, and then one of the twins is flying through the open doorway in a bundle of five year old limbs that are too long for his body. He hits the table when he goes down, red sprouting across his cheekbone, tears appearing in his eyes that don't fall. "Tommy you cumt!"

Niko rolls his eyes, points at Cassie to stir the rice, before he crosses the room and picks the kid up by his arm. Sammy fights him for a moment, but eventually relents when Niko grabs his face and forces him to be still. "You'll live," he decides, because there's blood sure, but it's not pouring. "And it's cunt."

Sammy blinks at him. "What?"

"That word you just tried to use? It's cunt, not cumt."

There's a mischievous glint that lights up his green eyes, and then he's scrambling off again, yelling at his brother with the right pronunciation this time. Niko doesn't worry about it, knows the kid will get him back for the cut on his face.

Niko swipes his phone off the counter when he gets back, checks the time. It's a little passed eight, and he sighs as he pulls the beanie off his head to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. His little bag of wonders had lasted him all week, and probably would have lasted longer, if he hadn't found a reason not to be popping pills every night.

But the weekend was coming up, and Niko was out of party favors.

"Where are the other two?" he demands of Cassie, who shrugs a little bit as she pokes at the rice some more, trying to pick out the black pieces. At his feet, Victor whines, reaching his arms up. He sighs and picks the toddler back up, sitting him on the counter while he goes back to trying to save dinner.

"Toby locked himself in the bathroom again," she complains, moving easily when Niko pushes her out of the way. "What is he even doing in there? He takes so long."

Niko snorts but doesn't answer, pulling down a bowl to dump the rice in, completely fine despite the patch of black. The hot dogs come next, and Cassie takes it upon herself to at least help out by pulling out the buns for him. "And Alice is crying again."

Niko would feel bad, but Alice was adorable. Three years old with blonde hair and big blue eyes. She looked like a fucking doll, and she'd end up adopted within the next four days if not quicker. Sure, most people wanted babies, but no one would pass her up.

She was a social services pick up, but the bruises across her back didn't stop her from crying for her daddy. "Tell her if she wants food she better get down here."

Cassie nods, abandoning her station and turning to jog up the stairs. He yells after her to get Toby too before he carries Victor to the table, followed by piles of food. He checks his pocket one more time, digging out the little bag hidden there, but it's still empty.

He was starting to get that itch again...

It takes awhile (and a blow dart to the face) before he can find the twins, and he drags them both into the kitchen by their ears before reminding them that he only cooks once. He's just made his own plate when the door opens, and there's Mrs. George.

The yelling starts the second she sees the state of the kitchen, and Niko's just sat down and decided to ignore her when his plate is literally stolen out from under him. He throws a glare her way, but she simply puts a hand on her hip and tells him: "Next time you're hungry maybe you should respect other people's things."

He stares at her for a moment before scraping his chair back, grabbing his phone and swiping a bottle of jack off the counter, then he's slamming the door behind him despite the shouts telling him he better not fucking leave.

He makes it to Pearce's just before ten o'clock, fucking freezing and starving, and he considers for a moment not spending all of his money on drugs and instead catching a bus back to town, but he figures he can probably eat tomorrow.

Right now, he had more important things on his mind.

And if one of them was seeing Pearce Nathan's fucking gorgeous face again, well, that was no one's business but his own.

"Yeah, keeps my ears warm and shit," Niko greets as he tosses back another drink from the bottle. It's cheap shit, but it's warm, and Niko's freezing and his day sucked like hell and he just really, really wants to get smashed. Which, as luck would have it, is something he can do.

There's a joint being passed to him and honestly Niko is so damn exhausted he doesn't even offer a comment as he takes it, stepping inside and dropping the bottle on the first flat surface he sees. He leans back against the wall, taking a slow drag off his newest prized possession, and almost moans at the goddamnd quality.

Pearce was smoking good shit. Clean. The kind of pot that settles thickly in your mouth and makes you want to savor it. He tilts his head back, lets his eyes fall closed as smoke tumbles from his lips, and he wonders for a moment if Pearce tastes like this too...

Pearce is different tonight...more relaxed, tension gone from his shoulders and much less business attitude than the first time Niko walked into his apartment. He's a little more...familiar almost. The kid takes another drag before leaving the joint between his lips, reaching into his pocket to dig for his wallet. He ends up pulling sixty dollars free as he crosses the room, drops it on the kitchen counter. "Fill me up," he mutters after moving the joint again, blowing smoke across the room. "I'll take whatever I can get."

There's half a box of pizza sitting across from him and Niko can't even stop his stomach from growling. He frowns, resists the urge to shut it up, and likewise the thought that he could just...reach over and take a slice.

But Pearce wasn't a kid anymore. He was a big boy drug dealer, and Niko could very well end up punched in the face, or cut off for good, if he tried to steal anything this time around. Neither option are anything he really wants to deal with tonight.

Niko cuts his eyes up guiltily towards Pearce when the man speaks, knowing he's been caught, and there's some comment on the tip of his tongue about just what in this apartment he'd rather be having sex with, but he bites it back. Because food.

He battles with himself for a moment before eventually switching the joint to his other hand and leaning forward to grab the biggest piece of pizza he can without making it completely obvious that that's what he's doing. The first bite is heavenly. With the mixture of alcohol, marijuana, and pizza on his tongue he no officially thinks he's had the best orgy in his life and he's good to die. Right now.

Instead Niko settles back in his seat, chews and swallows instead of being a fucking pig and stuffing the entire slice in his mouth in one sitting, then raises the joint back to his mouth. He takes a long drag, eyes searching Pearce's profile, before he looks around the apartment.

"You know," he mutters, thoughtfully. "Last time I knew you the worst crime you committed was lying about some homework. What changed?"

Pearce is staring. Or just...one of those people that looks, Niko doesn't know. Regardless, it makes him uncomfortable, makes him want to squirm and ask what the hell the dude's looking at. But he could grab his stuff and leave, get away from it, if he wanted. As it turns out, Niko liked pizza more than he disliked being stared at.

Speaking of pizza, Pearce slides the box closer, and Niko fights back the urge to jump at it, instead casually grabbing another slice while he arches an eyebrow, wondering if the man is ever actually going to answer his question.

When Pearce does answer, Niko snorts around a mouthful, tries to pull that off at least somewhat gracefully as he shakes his head. "I didn't abandon you. I got kicked out." He watches as the man crosses the kitchen, leans against the counter, and Niko lets his eyes drift over his body slowly before he sits back again.

He did kind of abandon Pearce though. They'd been good friends for that year...or for whatever half of it they were in school, at least. Maybe Pearce had been his only friend back then, once Niko got passed cursing at him. But he'd been a kid...no phone, no email address, no social life outside of school. And places like Pearce went...well, it was impossible to step on campus if you didn't have proof that you belonged there. Especially when you didn't wear the uniform. So yeah, Niko just fell off the face of the planet. And then Pearce was in highschool and well...what highschooler wanted to hang out with a kid, anyway?

The real answer is kind of ridiculous, but Niko finds himself shaking his head and chuckling as he finishes off his second slice of pizza, washing the taste down with the last of the joint he has left. He sighs softly, exhaling for the last time, and watches the smoke disappear as he realizes he should really get going.

He had what he wanted, and more, so lingering just seemed...stupid, rationally. But at the same time he likes being here. Like's Pearce's presences...especially all loosened up. He doesn't want to leave. "Man, things are different now," he mutters, letting his eyes roam around the apartment one more time. "Who woulda thought we would've ended up here..."

Niko rolls the question around in his head for a moment, using another piece of pizza to distract him from answering. Honestly, he considers lying, saying he's older than he really was. But all it would take was a little basic math and anyone would know the truth, especially someone he knew in middle school. "Sophomore," he says finally. But he was only a couple of months from being sixteen. Downside of a March birthday.

And he wasn't sure why he was trying to sound older than he was. It wasn't because he was trying to be impressing - Pearce was at least two years older than him. And drugs were illegal every which way you looked at it so it wasn't like there was something he needed to be of age for. Except...maybe there was...He didn't know where Pearce's morals went straight. Selling drugs to kids? No worries. Fucking them?

He realizes, suddenly, that he doesn't actually know which way Pearce swings. And that thought is kind of depressing. He wishes for a moment that he was unbelievably hot or something, so that he could at least tell.

There's a silence, but it's not exactly awkward just...there. And Niko realizes then how exhausted he is. So he licks his fingers clean before swiping his bag off the counter. "Thanks for...pizza and shit."

And then he's giving a somewhat awkward wave before he lets himself out of the apartment, not even remembering the bottle of Jack he came in with, much less realizing it's missing.

***

Damn his head hurts. A lot. Niko rolls over slowly, the way the springs creek under his body just adding to the pounding going on inside his skull.  He screws his eyes up tighter, raises one hand to press against his ears. Shit.

When he does finally open his eyes, it takes him a moment to figure out where he is. The wall paper is unfamiliar, the dim lighting in the room is probably coming from sunlight somewhere, but...

Hotel. He recognizes the scrape of the sheets on his bare skin, scrunches up his nose at the smell in the room as it hits him. He finally pushes himself up onto his elbow, throwing an arm off his waist as he reaches for the baggies laying on the side table.

Empty.

He scowls, runs a hand over his hair and sits up completely. His body aches, and not in the good way, but he ignores it in favor of shifting through the bags left out. No. Empty. Completely.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself, drops his head in his hands for a moment. Finding the will power to stand takes a lot, but he does eventually, shifting through the clothes on the floor until he finds his hoodie. He picks it up, digging through the pocket for his bag.

There's shit everywhere...clothes, bottles, a cigarette somewhere still smoking. Girls, guys, more than should be allowed in a hotel room with only two beds. He runs a hand over his face when he turns his bag over, realizes it's empty too. Fuck, he doesn't even remember last night.

He finds his pants thrown over a radiator, boxers on the edge of the bed - he takes a chance to look at the guy he woke up next to, doesn't recognize him, but thank god there's a condom. At least he wasn't that stupid.

When he makes his way into the bathroom his beanie is thrown over a towel rack, and he grins when he sees it, tosses it onto the counter with his clothes. He can't find his shirt when he walks back through the room, but his shoes are by the couch, and he only manages one sock.

His phone isn't dead, so he sends a quick text to Pearce (I need more) before he hops in the shower. The water never quite gets warm, and the pressures probably not doing wonders, but there's free soap so he lathers up and washes off until it's empty. Truth is, he's probably trying to scrub away more than just sweat.

When he's out and dressed he only has to walk a block to catch a bus. There's a taco stand on the way so he fishes out a couple of dollars and buys one and a coke. He eats on the way to Pearce's, the suns on it's way down, and his phone claims it's Monday. Which means this time he only lasted four days...

Niko's gotten so used to showing up at Pearce's place during the night that he doesn't exactly expect anyone to be leaving. But it's not like the kid tricked himself into thinking he was the only one who got apartment-privilages during buys, he just assumed he was usually the last one or something. Granted, he's earlier than usual, but still...

It's not really the guy leaving that catches his attention though, it's how he's leaving. Pants unzipped, shoes on but not tied, still tugging his shirt into place. Niko's eyes snap from him to Pearce clad in only boxers and fuck, would you look at that.

Gay. Or at least into dudes. Fuck yeah.

Niko can feel the smirk sliding into place as Pearce groans and disappears, and he lets himself in with practiced ease, shutting the door behind him with his foot. Pearce's place is usually pretty clean, but the bed looks well used, and there's still close laying out. "Damn," he mutters. "Didn't mean to run off your fun."

He's still smirking as he pulls out one of the kitchen chairs, dropping down and pulling the beanie off his head. His hair's still wet so he's sure it's sticking up everywhere but he doesn't really care.

"I've only got twenty on me," he says as he rubs at his brow. Food helped his headache considerably but it's still there a bit. Granted, there's a good chance he was hungover. "I'll take whatever. Even if it's just a joint or two."

At this point, he's decided Pearce either didn't have a payment system or didn't care, because the twenty dollars he did have came from finding thirty of it in the bag Pearce sold him last time. Which meant he had gotten better quality for cheaper. He didn't think on it too much. Maybe Pearce had just been too high to realize what he'd done. Who knew.

Pearce, as usual, is full of things to say, so Niko just leans back in his seat as smiles as he watches the man dig through the kitchen, loving the way the muscles in his back pull ever so slightly. He doesn't feel so bad about staring now.

It doesn't take long before there's a bag sliding across the counter, and Niko sits up to shift through it. There's not enough, he'll have to go easy this week, but it's still better quality than he should be getting right now. Still, he doesn't say anything about it, just pulls his wallet out and digs through the twenty something dollars he has, dropping them on the table top.

There's really no reason for him to stay. No pizza being offered, no conversation at hand...he should get up, go. But he lingers long enough thinking through his options that Pearce is leaning across the table, offering him a joint.

No. No that eyebrow raise is definitely challenging. Niko pauses for a moment, considers, but he's not really sure why. So he leans forward a little, reaches out to wrap his fingers around Pearce's wrist even though his grip isn't strong enough to be steadying or anything, and takes a hit.

His eyes fall closed as he inhales smoke, and maybe he hollows out his cheeks a little more than necessary, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is thick smoke settling in his lungs, filling him up, and he holds it for a moment, savors the taste, before he pulls back slightly and lets it out with a sigh. He opens his eyes then, watches Pearce's face through the smoke, smiles slightly and slides his hand away from the mans wrist slowly.

"Because I'm pretty?" Niko offers, smirk playing on his lips, because truth be told...he had no idea why Pearce let him have things for free. It definitely wasn't because he was attractive though. Not that Niko thought he was completely unappealing, just...average. Not enough to look at to get free shit, that was for sure.

He's thinking he should leave again, considering, when Pearce passes the joint to him and asks if he's hungry. Niko's eyebrow arches, but he leans back in his chair again and takes a slower drag now that he's not being watched. "Fucking starving," he admits.

***

Niko doesn't see Pearce again for two weeks, which not only kills his mood but he's out of little colorful pills that keep his mind off the man. If possible, he daydreams worse than usual, and the issue can't be curved. There's no one that looks like Pearce that he can waste his time on, not that he'd enjoy it sober anyway, and Niko honestly considers texting the man and just flat out being like "wanna get high and watch Monty Python?" but it seems like that's not a line he can cross yet.

The worst thing about being sober is it makes him irritable. His Friday is basically shit. He wakes up to hear Mrs. George yelling at the twins for something or another, gets caught in the crossfire when he tries to head to school, then gets yelled at once he gets there for an F on a Math exam that he, admittedly, wasn't prepaired for.

Lunch, however, is what seals his fucking fantastic day. It wasn't like he ran into Jacob Eves on purpose. It was a complete accident, and only a shoulder for fucks sake, but that doesn't mean the meat head doesn't round on him like he tried to take his kneecaps out or something.

So Niko drops his lunch trey, takes off around the corner, and makes it almost to the door before there's a hand in his sweatshirt jerking him back. And he should have known better, honestly, because there was a crowd. But Niko just wasn't in the mood.

So he punched him.

Three times, actually, before security finally got their hands on him. He went with a glare thrown over his shoulder, landed in the principals office with a pack of ice against his ribs because apparently he got hit back at some point, but he doesn't even care.

He fishes his phone out and sends that text to Pearce anyway, though he rewords it to: how much would you charge for one joint? and then, as an after thought, adds: and a sandwich.