Race's favorite couch in his life, was the ugly acid green with enough stains to look purposeful. It also happened to be the one he was born on, which Race remembered his mom never quite forgiving his dad for. As he heard the story went she'd felt her water break, and begged her boyfriend to take her to the hospital to which he responded "in a second babe!" And that second, turned into minutes, which turned into hours, which turned into too damn late.

Jack said that after he was born his mother held him like he was the most wonderful thing in her life. Race always wondered if that was the last time his mom held him like that.

His dad on the other hand, had apparently remained completely uninterested, looked at Race for a moment before going right back up to shooting cocaine up his nose.

Jack or Crutchie of course never would tell him that, they liked to pretend like if you put a glass wall between you and the bad things in your life, they would go away.

It was his mom who'd informed him of the fact his dad never loved him from day one, she'd been high off her rocker of course. Jack and Crutchie were at school, but Race had been sent home early for throwing up. He'd heard wheezing and went inside the bathroom to see his mom with a needle up her arm.

"Mama?" Little Racer asked, nervously walking forward.

"Antone," his mom slurred, pulling him forward. "You're such a cute kid, why don't Lorenzo love y'a none."

Race furrowed his eyebrows, "daddy doesn't love me?"

His mama body trembled, a small ounce of blood dripping down where she'd shot the needle. Race couldn't help but stare at it, the dark red staining his mama's pale skin.

"Lorenzo? He doesn't love anybody, hate him. Fu..." she wheezed coughing, Race sniffed the air and noticed a smelly cloud of smoke. "Him, snorting while you were born, making me wait to go to the damn hospital to have a baby. You were so cute and little, what happened?"

Race's eyes prickled with tears, he didn't understand what was happening, "I'm not cute anymore?"

His mother shook his head sadly, "always so nervous, loosen up a bit."

Race blinked, tears streaking across his face. He didn't know how to fix that.

His mothers eyes lightened up, she grabbed rolled up piece of paper, "here, take this."

It was one of those paper rolls his mama and daddy were always chewing. He reached forward and held it, it was warm and almost crunchy.

"Put it in your mouth, suck in, and blow out Antone, it's easy." She took it from him and demonstrated, laughing when she breathed out.

She did look very happy, and Race wanted so hard to be happy.

He picked it up from her and took a small breath, but it was musty and cloudy and filled up his lungs in all the worst ways. Immediately he started coughing.

"Race!" Jack called, slamming the door shut. Using the silly little nickname he got after he ran away at the horse races to go pet the horses. Jack always had silly nicknames for everyone.

"Jack!" Race called out, excited to see his older brother.

The bathroom door opened and Jack coughed waving away the smoke.

"Antonio what are you doing in here?" He asked, a cold tone to his voice Race didn't hear often.

Race frowned, shouldn't it be obvious? "I was seeing mama."

Jack gasped slightly, "is that a joint in your hand?"

Race looked over at his hand and shrugged helplessly, truthfully he didn't know what it was.

Jack quickly grabbed him and picked him up, throwing the joint down the toilet.

"Hey!" His mother sluggishly protested, "that's expensive!"

Race could never forget the absolute fury on Jacks face, "you can't give him that! He's not gonna be some worthless junkies like you and your stupid boyfriend!"

Race didn't like yelling, it covered his ears and soiled the mind. He pressed his face into Jacks chest.

"That ain't gonna hurt him!" She shouted back.

"Like hell it won't!" Jack screamed, his voice raw with so many emotions Race was sure he wasn't processing them all. "You always do this! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

"I hate you too!" She screamed back, stumbling up.

"I hope you die!" Jack cried, Race felt pellets of tears drop onto his hair. Race was crying too. He loved Jack, but he didn't want mama to die.

Before his mom could respond, Jack slammed the door close and brought Race over to his beloved couch. Sometimes if you sniffed real close to the right spot, you could still smell his moms bodily fluids that seeped from the towel.

Jack cried softly, rocking Race back and forth, holding him. Crutchie was inside his room, hiding out behind that glass wall. Could still see everything, but pretend like it's not apart of you.

"One day Race, imma take you and Crutchie out to Santé Fe far away from this hell house. Far away from our problems." Jack said, his voice raw. "But you gotta promise me you're gonna stay far away from mama, and whatever crap she gives you."

Stay away from Mama? But Race loved mama.

Instead Race frowned confused, "where's Santé Fe?"

"New Mexico, won't have no problems there."

Race giggled, "that makes you a cowboy then."

Jack smiled softly, "yeah I guess it does."

Race could still, to this day, feel the hot weed in his lungs from his very first joint. Race wondered if Jack still remembered that, if Crutchie heard. They never talked about nothing.

When Race was forced out of that house, he'd meet many other couches. All of them better in some way than that true garbage couch. Springs sticking out every which way, so there was never a truly comfortable spot. Race never did like that couch, it wasn't his favorite for any good memory, any comfort. It was his favorite for the healthy reminder that no matter what happened in between, Race's life started out crappy and ended crappy. Whatever in between he held onto wouldn't last.

Race looked down at his arms, the very spot he saw his mother inject herself with was bloody and raw on his arm, clear scratch marks lining all the way up and down.

Race sniffled, his bloodshot eyes from crying this time. He felt numb, and stupid. Mostly stupid, it was naive to think the worst was over and better would come.

Someone slid into the couch beside him. His perfect, untouched couch. Soft baby blue cloth, and a perfect comfort level that he could almost sink into effortlessly. Sometimes he hated the couch for being better than him. Which then he realized was extremely stupid because it's a couch and walked away.

He dug his nails into the perfect couch, almost hoping little indents would form.

"Hey Racer?" Jack worriedly said, with that too-joyful tone to be genuine and the little half smile like he was trying to be natural.

Race nodded at him, he didn't feel like talking. Didn't feel like much these days. Everything felt numb and soggy now.

"You okay over there?" He asked.

Race shrugged.

Jack bit his lip, frowning, "let's go turn on a movie."

Race couldn't care less. He ignored the tv and stared at his curtains, also baby blue. Truthfully Jack decorated for him, Race was sure he spent an hour on the internet looking at the calmest colors because his entire house was basically blue. But Race liked blue so he didn't mind.

Race couldn't care less what was on the tv, until he heard "this is Berk."

Race couldn't help but smile slightly and turn to one of his favorite movies in the world, How To Train Your Dragon.

Jack looked all too smug at Race smiling.

Race scoffed, "shut up, it's a good movie."

Jack raised his hands, "I never said it wasn't!"

"Your face said it all." Race grumbled, taking the chips Jack opened. Which happened to be the healthiest brand of sea salt and vinegar, go figure.

Jack laughed and the two fell into a comfortable silence.

Jack always knew how to make Race feel better. With him by his side, Race could do anything. Even die happy.