#4 Drugs.

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VEGAS POV

The cold wind entered through the car window, causing Pete's hair to cover most of his face. He seemed unfazed, eyes closed, until he fell asleep. As I opened the door, he woke up.

"Pete, can you walk?" My voice still sounded irritated.

"Hm."

I helped him out of the car, put his arm around my shoulder, and we walked to the elevator. The elevator's lights made Pete's eyes open and close rapidly as he tried to adjust. We walked to my apartment, and as soon as I opened the door, Pete tried to stand on his own.

"I'm gonna puke," he spoke so softly I could barely hear.

I carried him straight to the bathroom, holding his body over the toilet, away from his hair as he emptied his stomach.

"I'm sorry."

"For what specifically?" I held him by the waist, sure that was the only thing keeping him standing.

"For throwing up."

"It's good that you got it out of your system. Can you take off your clothes?"

"Yes."

I managed to take him to my room, and once I released his waist, he fell back on the mattress. Pete smiled at the situation, but a new wave of shivers hit him, making him stop immediately.

"I'll take off your clothes. You reek of smoke and vomit."

"Hm," Pete nodded.

After removing his clothes, leaving him lying on the bed in just his underwear, I went to the bathroom to change. My shirt was covered in blood. I put on loose pants and returned to the room, sitting next to Pete, who was still lying in the same position but now playing with his hands as if trying to catch light.

"You're funny," Pete laughed, trying to touch my face. As I felt his hands on my face, I grabbed them and put them back on the bed.

"Pete, you've been drugged. Go to sleep."

"Who said I want to sleep? I want answers." Pete tried to sit up to appear serious and determined, but he had no strength in his body.

"You do want to sleep," I said, turning off the lights, leaving us in the dark. I lay down next to him and remained silent.

Pete spoke some sentences and laughed alone, calling some unknown names until one caught my attention. Jim.

"Who is Jim?" I asked quietly, trying to figure out how much Pete knew.

"He called Zach's phone," Pete spoke the words with difficulty. "He said not to trust you. Now he laughs openly. You killed Zack, just like you took your hands off the man today."

He said a few more things I didn't understand before falling into complete silence and finally sleeping.

A faint light from the bathroom woke me up a few hours later. When I looked to the side, Pete was not lying on the bed; I found him on the bathroom floor, probably having vomited again. He was sweaty; I wiped his face with my hand, removing the hair stuck to his forehead.

"I told you not to go to that club," I said a bit irritated.

"And I said you don't control me," he tried to break free, but his body was still weak.

"How about a shower?" I suggested while lifting him off the cold floor.

"I don't trust you."

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