For favorite_forgery and the_swan_song

[leylined]

As much as things felt like they were getting better, Adam knew it for the lie it was. Or perhaps he'd fooled himself into believing it moreso than his friends around him, who seemed to stop questioning him about his disposition after Adam started taking the pills Kavinsky had given him. It wasn't ever permanent, but the times that Adam felt anxious and afraid were counteracted quickly. Half an hour of nerves before calm and bliss would settle in for hours. It wasn't perfect, but nothing Adam knew actually was.

Had Adam actually been paying attention, he'd notice the dwindling supply of pills, and how as his reliance on them grew, the quicker they disappeared. As it was, he'd sneak them from his book bag when he knew no one was looking, never actually checking the supply and depending on the idea that there'd always be another one for him, two if things seemed particularly bad.

During second period he sat next to Gansey, AP History. And while Adam paid attention insofar as to write down and memorize notes, he could never understand the utter fascination his peer gave to the subject at hand. He was so engrossed that he didn't recognize the signs of the medication wearing off. The world became sharper. Interspersed with the talk of Lutheranism in Germany was snatches of half-forgotten words from a night he'd rather forget entirely.

And then Gansey is called upon. He wasn't sure exactly what the question or the answer was, because one look at his friend brought up visions of gore rather than the man who never died. He managed to suppress any noise the image would try and pull from him, but still he stood- quite unexpectedly, it seemed- and started toward the door, his bag in hand, muttering excuses and apologies along the way and trying not to watch the confusion growing on everyone's face.

He managed to make it out of Mardon House and into a nearby building that he knew was empty this period save for the odd teacher here and there, tearing through the hall and practically slamming his way into a bathroom therein. He opened his book bag and searched for that plastic bag that would stop all of this in a guarantee of salvation delivered in thirty minutes or less. Find the baggy he did, but it was conspicuously, maddeningly, empty. "What?" He could barely hear himself speak, but that didn't matter, as the dread filled him. At first he started pulling things out quickly, then completely upended his bag, sending pens and notebooks sprawling across the linoleum floor. No pills.

"Fuck." He sank to the floor after finding the bag devoid of any medication and started scouring its former contents for something. Anything but to no avail. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

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[the_swan_song]

End of second period was typical arrival for Swan, since first period could go fuck itself with a chainsaw and second wasn't too far behind it. Third was skipped when hangovers were too heavy to be dealt with by way of a shot and some coke. Fourth was usually solid. Lunch arrival was Fridays, if they showed at all. He heads for the bathroom, because the morning coke rush was already wearing thin.

It's annoying, not having access to Kavinsky's coke anymore. Shit lasted hours. Sunglasses on inside, he nudges Proko toward the bathroom. "Gotta reup or I'm going to punch that government bitch in the face." He smirks a little, then shoulders his way through the bathroom door, only to stop short, seeing Parrish scrambling on the floor. Sunglasses are pushed up to the top of his head, and he grins, elbowing Proko. "It's like fucking Christmas."

He walks past him, kicking at the pile of shit on the floor, then hops up onto the counter, kicking his legs. "Trash digging through trash. Sight to see. What's wrong, bitch?" He digs into his pocket, holding out a baggie of coke to Proko.

[favorite_forgery]

Prokopenko stopped coming to school altogether for a while, when Kavinsky decided to bail on them. He already had a hard enough time as it was, and his head wasn't getting any better. He's entirely unamused by Swan dragging him here anyway, but he supposes its better than putting holes in himself at home, though both are equally painful. Aglionby has Kavinsky though, and he still finds himself far too attached.

"You'd punch her anyway," he snorts, pushing Swan back, then follows him into the bathroom. He crashes right into Swan, then shoves him aside. He's less amused by Adam Parrish than Swan is, more annoyed than anything, that someone is intruding on their plans. Especially this bullshit.

"Uh... more like garbage day than Christmas." He kicks around some of the papers as well, snagging the coke and crossing his arms. "You gonna be done here any time soon? We got shit to do."

[leylined]

Adam freezes up when he hears the sound of footsteps coming in his direction from outside of the bathroom. Apparently his flight wasn't as cool and calm as he'd tried to make it be, and now Gansey's about to find him, after he'd claimed to be getting better.

Then he can hear the laughter and voices accompanying them and he knows that it isn't Gansey, Lynch, or Kavinsky, and he can't recall ever actually seeing Noah on school grounds. Some of the tension leaves him, though, but not all of it. They can still come in here. And indeed they do.

He endures it, the laughter and insults. And vaguely he recognizes Swan and Prokopenko. He knows of them as former hangers-on of Kavinsky, and the awful truth about Prokopenko but little else. That's more than enough in Adam's books books because he knows how Kavinsky used to be and still can be. "Fuck you." The response is muttered out to himself as he stays where he is, half frozen on hands and knees before he finds himself again and starts collecting his things, shaking them occasionally in the hopes that there might be something he missed.

[the_swan_song]

"Oooh, that's not friendly. No way to represent your school, Parrish." His tone is mercilessly mocking. He gives no shits to be friendly with Parrish. The guy was Dick Gansey's bitch, along with every single other one of that crew, including Kavinsky. They could all go fuck themselves.

"But seriously, get the fuck out." Swan recognized some level of that desperation, as he watches him with one eyebrow up. Then he snorts and slides off the counter, tapping Proko's elbow and nodding toward the counter. "Fuck him. He's in the grips of some dramatic moment. He'll go suck Dick's dick soon enough."

[favorite_forgery]

"Didn't even know he knew those dirty words, did you?" Proko tilts his head, the slightest amusement on his face, but only because Swan seems to be so damn amused by it. Adam Parrish is so far off Prokopenko's radar. The only thing he knows is that he's friends with the fuck heads who made Kavinsky drift further and further away from him.

Proko notices the anxiety as well, the way Adam seems to be itching for something. He glances at Swan and shrugs, then walks over, standing on top of half the shit that's dumped all over the floor, then crouches down, getting in his face. "Do your friends know?"

[leylined]

Swan's easy to feign ignorance with. As soon as it's clear Adam's not going to rise to whatever bait he may have laid out, he's done and focusing on something else. He's still hurt by the words, but Adam's made himself adept at not showing when the boys here have done so. He continues gathering his things up. He can deal through the rest of the day until he can find Kavinsky again.

He's interrupted, though, by Prokopenko standing on his things. Adam shutters his face, letting that familiar mask of indifference fall down. It surprises him that Prokopenko has this kind of malice inside him, after meeting Ronan's own dream things. But this boy was created from desperation and the darker parts of Kavinsky's mind. It's a different situation entirely. "I don't know what you're talking about." It's said evenly, and he meets the other's eyes only for a moment before directing them at the things Proko is blocking him from. "I need my stuff." The end's stuck with a small quaver. Not of fear; he has no reason to fear either of them, really, but anxiety that they might drag this out when it's neither of their business.

[the_swan_song]

"Boom, Parrish is a druggie bitch. Cute. Meth? That's what's big out in the trailer park, right?" His tone is goading and unsympathetic. How many of the Raven Boys tended toward abusing everything that they could get their hands on, but Gansey and his crew were above that. Beyond Lynch, maybe. Kavinsky was an entirely different animal, and Swan knew they hadn't warped him into straight edge yet.

Give them time. "What's your poison, fuckass? Let me guess, something pussy and 'acceptable'. Pain killers? Ritalin? Adderall? Gotta study hard for that first in the class spot, right, trashheap?" Swan runs his mouth, then slides off the counter, going to Proko and taking the coke back. Fuck Parrish, he's getting high. The amusement of watching him on his knees has already worn off.