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“You’ve got to figure this out,” José urged. “Andrej is just waiting for you to slip up and give him a reason to boot you. Carol’s in on it too. They’re already pushing Iggy to rehearse the songs. They’re serious, Leaf. If you care at all about your life, the band, and Tristan, get it together. This isn’t just talk anymore, Leaf. Please.”

Leaf swallowed and lowered his arm. “You can’t help me,” his voice hoarse, as if he’d been screaming his soul out.

“You’re right. I can’t help you. You won’t let me. Anyone. And once you’re out of the band, we both know how it’ll end.”

“I didn’t want to kill myself, if that’s what you mean,” Leaf mumbled. “I just didn’t want to feel anything anymore. I didn’t know the stuff was so potent. The mixture hit hard.”

“And Tristan?”

Leaf stroked his face. “I should’ve done something … I mean … If it weren’t for me … If Diego hadn’t …”

“Stop it. That won’t change anything. It was a long day for everyone.”

“No. It wasn’t,” Leaf whispered, placing both arms over his face.

No. It wasn’t.

At least not for Milo.

Saturday

36

–––––

Morning

Leaf stood in shock as he observed the living room table. Everything was tidy. The empty bottles, the overflowing ashtrays, and glasses—all gone.

“Hey! Sleep well?” José asked from behind him.

Definitely too cheerful for Leaf's taste.

“What the hell …? Where’s my stuff?” He knew the heroin was gone, and while he was relieved, it didn’t mean he could get through the day without help—especially with the headache he had.

José studied him closely, squinting his eyes slightly. “You don’t look good.”

“Dude,” Leaf growled through clenched teeth, balling his hands into fists.

“Take it easy, man.” José fetched an envelope from the shelf. “Here.”

Leaf sat on the couch and prepared everything. Nathan had brought him a bit of opium yesterday, and that was exactly what he needed now. His hands shook as he packed the glass pipe, and he repeatedly wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Just two hits, and everything was normal again. The world felt right. His mind was whole. Relieved, he closed his eyes. As the tension melted away, the chaos in his head dissipated, and the pain vanished.

Yet, at the same time, everything seemed so clear to him. The upcoming tour. The concert tonight. Tristan.

Damn, I’m so messed up.

“You should talk to a doctor,” José said, standing beside the couch.

Has he been watching me the whole time?

Whatever.

“Why not,” Leaf replied, lighting a cigarette. He struggled to his feet and walked to the kitchen on shaky legs. “I won’t have to get the stuff from Nathan anymore.”

“Haha,” José said dryly. “You know what kind of doctor I mean.”