Angelo and Alison, backdated to the 27th

[om_dazzler]

Angelo spills to Alison about his addiction.

Warning: talk of drug addiction



It'd been a very rough couple of weeks.

Not only was Angelo struggling in school and failing a couple of classes (again), but he'd been forced out of his drug using in favour for mandatory counselling. That meant that the addiction he'd been getting back into the habit of feeding again was left high and dry, cold turkey, and the results...weren't so pretty. He was jonesing for a fix like crazy, which meant that the mood swings were unpleasant as hell. It was hard to keep that under wraps, but he was trying.

And...trying was very difficult when he was sitting around and staring at his fucking literature exercises. Would it kill the teachers to provide them with something interesting to read? Perhaps Busty Leather Babes? Was that seriously too much to ask?

After a few more attempts to read the same paragraph he'd been trying to read for the past thirty minutes, Angelo let out an annoyed snarl and shoved the book off of his table. It crashed noisily against the next table over, echoing loudly throughout the library in the process. "Man, fuck this noise! There's gotta be something better to do!"

Alison had noticed Angelo's behavior over the last few weeks, and she'd noticed his mood. She was hoping that he'd eventually bring up what was going on with him, and actually talk to her. So far, that wasn't working, and though she wanted Angelo to come to her willingly, she was starting to realise that she would have to drag this out of him. When he pushed the book off the table, Alison's eyes widened and she stared at him for a moment.

She closed her book. Okay, it was totally time for a study break.

"Forget studying," Alison said, and reached out to place her hand on his shoulder. "Is everything okay?"

"Does it look like it? Who the fuck cares about fuckin'..." Angelo paused and narrowed his eyes at the book angrily. "William Golding? I bet he's some fat white guy with fifty million bucks who doesn't give a single shit about a buncha freaky high school kids reading his stupid book, anyway. Lord of the Flies sounds like the crazy homeless guys in L.A., yo."

Of course that wasn't even the core of his problems, but right now it was!

Alison perked an eyebrow. Well, that was some insanely misdirected anger, now wasn't it?

"Okay, Mister Espinosa, you are going to tell me what's bothering you right now. I know it's not William Golding, because you've been in a weird mood for weeks now," Alison told him, still holding his shoulder as she kept close. "Spill it, sweetheart."

"School gives me hives," he grumbled and folded his arms over his chest. It'd be nice if Ali would fall for that, but Angelo doubted she would.

"Angelo," Alison chided, and gave him a stern look. "Talk to me."

There was a long pause as Angelo seemed to ignore Alison in favour for sulking. However, he was weighing the pros and cons of telling her his dilemma. As pissy and miserable as he was, Angelo was tired of the crap and he did have therapy to deal with. He'd been told that it was important to have support people...whatever the fuck that truly meant...and maybe he wasn't against a half assed attempt at self help.

Crap.

Heaving a sigh, Angelo flung open his backpack and pulled out a couple of pamphlets his therapist gave him, tapped them on the table impatiently, and then handed them over. Ali was smart, she'd take the hint, and it was way easier than coming out and saying it.

Alison took them into her hands, and looked them over. Frowning, she opened one of them and began to read. She felt like she'd been punched in the chest with each word she saw. Angelo had been going through some major withdrawals with drugs, apparently, and she hadn't noticed. Maybe his moods had been a little different, but she hadn't thought...she hadn't thought anything like this about it, and she felt bad for that.

She looked up, eyes locked on her boyfriend. "When did this happen?"

"First time was Valentine's Day," Angelo admitted, and dropped his elbow to the table, hand raking through his hair almost compulsively. "Thing is, Lightengale...I was clean before that. Since coming here. So that was five and a half months...which was really good for me, 'cause I was dealin' with Tores being gone and didn't relapse once. Well, not with crack or coke anyway."

He dropped E once and he smoked a lot of weed, but those things weren't his poison. Angelo was an addictive personality in general, but it was the flake that got him bad. "I've...ah. Been an addict since I was thirteen."

Valentines Day...of course. Angelo wasn't about insanely good moods, she'd noticed, so why hadn't it clicked? Maybe she was just too naive and thought certain ways about people. Looking down at her lap, she smoothed the pamphlets over with her fingers, feeling like the words on each of them were made of fire. This was a shock to deal with, and she didn't know how to do it. But it seemed like he was getting help, and that was good! That was insanely good, especially if he'd been hooked that long.

"So you were...you were addicted to cocaine," Alison said slowly, glancing up at him again. "Are, I mean. And you're getting help now?"

Angelo nodded, and stopped fussing with himself to look at her in the eye. "Si. I'll admit it was 'cause the profs gave me no other choice, but I don't wanna be like this. Can't afford to be jonesing all the time, anyway, but I kinda liked being off it. Weed's all right, it chills me out, you know? Doesn't get me all loco in the head and doing stupid shit like the flake."

"I wish you would have told me, sweetheart, but I understand why you didn't," Alison began. Not only was this a super serious issue, but when it came to talking about his life, Angelo was pretty tight lipped. It was insanely hard to get him to discuss anything, so Alison was hardly surprised he'd kept this secret. "I'm glad you want to get help, you know? If there's anything I can do to support you about that, I'll do it."

She reached over, and took his hand into her own. "How long have you been off of it now?"

"Just a few days," Angelo muttered, and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly before he started rubbing his eyes. Fuck, he was tired and drained, and his irritation was returning. However, he was determined to try and keep it in check as best as he could.

"Look, it ain't that easy to talk to you about this, okay? The therapist said I should, but how the hell do I know they even know what they're talking about? They don't know me. They're just some rich kid with a degree on their wall..."

Try harder, Angelo.

"Sorry. I didn't mean that."

Alison frowned, but she still found herself nodding. She had no idea how he was feeling right now, and if it had only been a few days? Well, that probably meant he was still going through a lot of bad stuff. Maybe she'd have to read up a bit on her computer later about this stuff. Specifically when Jeanne-Marie wasn't near, as she doubted Angelo wanted this getting around to anyone else.

"It's okay," Alison began slowly. "But you know, you should talk about it, and whatever you want to tell me about this, I'll listen."

She paused. "Is there any reason why you relapsed? A trigger?"

Angelo shook his head. "No. It was just offered to me for free and I couldn't turn it down, you know? It's like someone waving money or gold in front of your face."

The thing with cocaine was that it made him feel like he was pure power. It made him feel like he wasn't an ugly, stupid freak of nature. His past didn't matter, school didn't matter, losing his family didn't matter---nothing hurt and everything was euphoria. Coming down wasn't great, but Angelo, for the longest time, thought the high made the crash worth it.

"Any time the shit hits the fan or I get stressed...hell, even if I just get lost in my own head and start thinking about things that bring me down? Anything can be a trigger, mamacita."

This was really hard to hear, and it was a big slap in the face just how different their lives had been. Alison had been sheltered and protected from drugs when he had been so exposed to them. It felt like there was nothing she could do to help him because she had no experience with this kind of stuff. It was only ever something she'd seen on TV or in movies. What could she do for him? It seemed like listening was the only thing she was able to do.

"Maybe I can help you think of things to do so when you get stressed or upset then you have something good to focus on," Alison offered. "Better coping mechanisms, yeah?"

She was sure the forced therapy was helping him with that, too, but if she could add anything to it, she would.

Different lives and perspectives or not, Angelo thought that idea seemed interesting. Forced therapy helped, sure, but it was still forced and Angelo still had a very hard time talking. Alison was giving him the option of other alternatives here, so the Puerto Rican was all ears and even sounded as such. "Yeah? Like what?"

"It could be something little. We could talk, or go for a walk. We could cuddle, we could listen to music. Anything and everything that you think might help you feel better," Alison offered. "We can try out anything and see what helps you feel better, than stick with what works best for you. Does that sound okay?"

Starting with different things would probably work since he wasn't sure yet what would help, but Angelo was all for trying. "Yeah that's good." He rubbed his hand over his forehead and forced up a very small smile at Alison. "I uh. You're...just thanks, si?"

"I'll do whatever I can to help you, and I mean it. I really care about you, Angelo, and I want you to be happy. I want you to be okay," Alison told him, then kissed him on the cheek. Besides, he was there for her about her family issues, and Alison wanted to make sure she did the same thing in return. "We can ditch our books, if you want. Do something that isn't so stressful on you at the moment? We could go for a drive, a walk...whatever you want to do."

As if Angelo would ever turn down the offer to forget about homework for awhile, especially considering his mood. He gave Alison a nod and began to shove his books and binder into his backpack. "Let's walk; I think I can use the fresh air."

"Okay," Alison managed a tiny smile, and placed her books in her bag. She then got to her feet, and swung her bag over her shoulder. "We can stay out there long as you need, sweetheart."