Drunk Without Cause

Twenty.

The reality was, even though Ian wasn't supposed to be their friends anymore, he couldn't help but still find himself caring about them all. He still worried about seeing Ilya in such a state, or finding Venice still awake despite it being such an odd hour. In fact, it had been past three in the morning when the whole thing occurred.

Ian had been tired, but he was too stressed out to focus on much of anything. There was an extremely important test coming up in his AP Physics class that he had spent the whole night studying for, along with three essays spread out amongst different classes that were going to be due very soon. His Mum had been working midnights again, and Jada was back at college. Meaning that Ian also had to do some cleaning around the apartment.

He was simply too distracted to think straight, and after some excruciating tossing and turning in his bed, he decided to just take a walk in an attempt to clear his head. That had been the intention anyway, but clearly things didn't go as planned. Because after dealing with the whole Ilya situation, Ian then had to spend the rest of the night fretting over an old friend, wondering what had made him look so disturbed when he first stumbled upon him.

Ian remembered when he was little, after his parents divorced and they first moved to America. His Mum was always saying how independent he was, how proud of him that made her. You're so mature for you age, Ian.

That was an easy facade to maintain when he was younger, because it really did feel like he was mature at the time. But now that he was nearly an adult, Ian knew how stupid of an observation that it was. Because he was not mature—now more than ever. Mum did not need to know that though, all she needed to see was his above average report cards, and perfect attendance. If he was leaving the house, it was most often for volunteer work. Anything that scholarships would be jumping for joy over, because lord knows that he needed them to be.

Sometimes, only sometimes, Ian missed living in London. He missed the way everyone spoke, the way his father took him on trips to the ice cream parlor down the street, even the dreary weather and spending Boxing Day inside watching Christmas movies. That was when he didn't have to stress everyday over his grades, over making something of himself, or listening to his Mum mumble to herself as she wondered how she was going to pay the upcoming bills.

It was his job to keep the house in check. You're the glue holding us all together, Mum had told him once. Even when Jada was still home, she hardly did any cooking or cleaning. That was always left for him to do. Just as his homework, his studies, his entire future was in his hands.

Thinking about all of these things, Ian looked up and glanced around the classroom. He was sitting in his Philosophy class, his teacher pacing around the room as he went over the brief history of the French Enlightenment period. Which Ian already knew everything about, so he wasn't too concerned about it at the moment.

He remembered a few years ago, when he was crying over a failed test. It felt like the universe was collapsing on top of his shoulders, especially when it wasn't too long after his Mum had gotten fired from her previous job. Ian felt as though he had failed at his position of holding the home together. In a quiet hallway, he found himself gasping for air all alone, as though he were drowning.

That was when Emily found him. They had never spoken before, but he had seen her a few times. She was so hard to miss, thick eyeliner, freshly dyed black hair, as much silver jewelry as she could possibly fit was lining her limbs. She had been alone, and she acted quickly. It was mortifying, to be found in such a distressed state by someone who seemed to rule the world with the way she held herself.