(Sober by Childish Gambino) Quick warning that there will be a lot of drug use and sex in this book as well as cursing, don't act surprised. (It's the last ----- in case you wanna skip it.)

|2.| licking flames and big brothers.

Mom had to work.

And due to me not serving my detention with Mr. Anderson, he'd doubled it, now I had to stay after a few days and if I didn't, he'd be forced to call my mother. Call her and stress her out over me? No thanks, I'd rather have lit myself of fire. So obliging with the rules, I served my two days and standing outside the school at four p.m. I thought about my plans for the night, wasn't anything new: go home, get high, fuck someone and go to sleep.

Only thing different about that day was the fact that I didn't have to ride the bus home and I was regretting it every second as Oliver pulled up to the side of the school in mom's old car. He'd been receiving steady income from his modeling job that he was able to buy it off of Mom and fix it up, trading in his old Jeep. My better brother was doing so well with his life and I rolled my eyes as he honked at me.

"Detention? Again?" His voice was disappointed as he pulled out of the car lot and I leant back in the bench seat, the leather pulling me in and encasing me in the newly functioning air-conditioning. It was a hot day and my shirt was sticking to my skin much like my balls were to the side of my fucking leg, I was sweating.

Pulling the lighter out of my pocket, I readjusted in my pants before grabbing for the cig I'd placed behind my ear. Shielding the running AC from the flame, I'd attempted to light my stress reliever, sucking in once the job was done and leaving my arm to hang out the open window.

Clicking off the AC when I'd opened the window, my nagging brother muttered under his breath incomprehensibly. Something about wasting gas or whatever the fuck.

"Whatever, Oliver." I'd drawled out, eyes unfocused on the houses we passed. He was taking the long-route home, rejecting the five minute drive and settling for fifteen. I knew it was another one of his techniques to get me to open up possibly and tell him about my shitty life. Bringing my hand back to my face, I sucked in another drag before letting the smoke settle and releasing a cloud. Flicking the ashes in the built-in ash-tray, I smirked at Oliver's face.

He was looking at me as if he were trying to dissect my 'ludicrous' actions, quite hypocritical if you ask me. Pushing a hand through my hair, the dark strands fell back to settle with the rest and I sighed. "Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" Ignoring his question, I sunk further into the seat and focused my eyes on the road, so close to home. "Put that shit out, since when do you smoke cigarettes?"

"Since I felt like it." Dragging in again, I smirked, blowing towards Oliver and watching him wave the smoke out of his face. He could quit all he wanted but he had no business telling me to as well. "You did it too, quit acting all perfect and shit now that you're fixed." He'd already killed his lungs, one more cloud wouldn't hurt him.

"That isn't good for you." And that was rich coming from him, "All the shit it could cause, all the health problems, Eli."

Rolling my eyes, I sat back, cigarettes were bad for my lungs but with my health problems, it was worse for me. "Isn't good for anyone. But..." I didn't care, why did he? Oh right. "You didn't care about that until you got involved with her."

Ever since he'd gotten serious about that girl, he'd changed and I mean, yeah, it was a beneficial change for him but... we were screwed, that's how it worked, the whole fucking family had problems and then all of a sudden Oliver's better than us, better than me. Now I was the fuck up, all on my own and that shit kind of stung.

I wasn't gonna cry like a little bitch though.

"What the hell are you talking about?" His voice was gritty, switching lanes on the highway, we'd driven around for a while and I just wished he would stop passing exits that we needed to get off of and let me fucking be.

"Nothing."

Finally getting off the highway after a few minutes of silence, my brother sighed. We'd stayed quiet until he was pulling into the neighborhood and still, I wasn't the first one to speak. There wasn't a point in speaking to him anymore, wasn't a point in being around him either unless completely necessary so when he'd spoken, I had to resist the urge to launch myself out the window. "You've been acting weird all summer and I thought you'd bounce back after school started but it's been six weeks, Eli."

That summer after he graduated was absolute hell for me but, of course, no one knew that. I'd started going to parties, started becoming more active in things that had to do with social interaction and I'd even convinced myself that this was a fresh start. I started to visit my dad, tried to talk to him with a smile on my face and even tried to be happier. How fucking wrong that was. I was nothing but the impression my brother had left, people didn't fear me as much as they stared at me.

Every single time I went outside, I felt eyes scrutinizing me, I didn't even want to leave the house to make a trip downtown and visit. And I'd gotten further away from it, the middle of summer was me laying in my bed all day reading mandatory novels, waiting for my mother to get home and when she did, she'd give me my insulin leaving for bed with a kiss on my cheek. That is until I had to wake her up at three to go to her morning job and she'd give me my shot again, it was an everyday cycle that worked for us.

Two shots a day for type one diabetes, the shots didn't even sting anymore.

And then towards the end of that month and heading into the beginning of the last month, I'd started hanging around Inked. Long days there and nights spent in the dingy old room resulted in a regular drug intake, I'd lied and said I was visiting again. Oliver started staying home to help out instead and he'd often stop me on my way in -from wherever I'd been- lecturing me about leaving Mom worried sick.

In which I'd lie about being around some 'friends' that I hadn't really seen since the final bell rang. Oliver hated being in that prison, hated seeing the man who never helped him with a damn thing in his life. He wouldn't agree with the lie I told mom so I had to switch up.

I knew he was worried, hell, I would be worried too if I were him. "Yeah, blah blah time flew, shouldn't you be going to college soon or I don't know, getting the fuck out of my business?"

And that was harsh, I knew it was, I could feel the glare settling on me and boiling in his veins. His anger was proven when Oliver furrowed his brows, staring ahead with his jaw clenched. I nearly jumped out of my skin when his voice became louder than before and he spoke, the sound filling the car.

"Do you wanna walk home?" And although it was an empty threat, I couldn't help but comply. Rolling my eyes, I leant on the window as he finally focused his energy on getting off of the highway and finding a way home.

"Whatever."

And letting go of the steering wheel and deciding to steer with his left hand, he grabbed for the cigarette, snatching it from my fingertips and putting it out in the ashtray, tossing it out the window when he was finished. "I don't want you smoking in my car."

• • •

"Eli." It was a few hours later and I'd already finished my homework. Trying to think up a good way to get out of the house without my brother catching me, glare on his face, I sighed. He just wouldn't stop.

Rolling my eyes at that, I grabbed for the cigarettes in my bedside drawer despite the fact that I'd much rather get high. He didn't know I did that anymore, of course I had around him before and even sometimes with him, he'd become so fucking overly sensitive about that shit in the past year. Rustling through some papers, I pulled it out from underneath an old report card and ripped the ash tray from under the table.

"Get the fuck out, Oliver." Lighting it, I matched his glare. He could tell me to stop smoking in his car but in my room, it was fair game and I'd become reasonably strong enough to fight him off if he tried anything. But he truly wouldn't anymore, I could do anything and he wouldn't just hit me.

Moving closer into my room, he closed the door and crossed his arms. "Shut it." In an attempt to, I guess, scare me... he leaned back on the wood and gritted his teeth, voice tough.

"Or what? Can't kick my ass anymore, can you?" I scoffed, taking a drag before leaning back in the bed. "Man, Emerson turned you into a wuss." He just thought he was much better than me and I couldn't stand it.

"I'm not hitting you and you know it."

Speaking without thinking, My eyes widened at what came out of my own mouth, Oliver's snapping shut. "Didn't have a problem before, Psycho." I regretted it to minute I'd said it.

The room was silent as we both looked for words. His voice was barely there as he let out an "Elliot..." and my eyes shut in order to not look at his face. The psychopath label was something he'd left behind in high school, something malicious when it came to using it against him, something so unnecessary for me to say but I did.

And I didn't mean for my "Get out." to come out so remorseful.

It took a while for him to speak after that, not being used to it anymore because his life was so amazing now. It was so amazing that he'd forgotten any pain we held before and any tension between us. Oliver thought optimistic, just as he started when she came around, he thought we could just repair whatever damage we had because he was sane now.

I didn't hate Emerson, she never gave me a reason to, I never hated her. Sure, I disliked the fact that she'd changed everything but there was nothing against her, she was cool people and she did change him for the better. But him changing for the better made him expect me to change and change wasn't something I did well with. "What's wrong?"

His voice was looser than before, a little disheartening and I had to push myself to look at him, struggling to hold up my indifferent look.

"I'm fine, Oliver." Lighting another, since the one I'd had died out in the silence between us, I watched as the flame ignited. Smoke soon came after and it licked away at the white, leaving an ashy brown in its wake. A large cloud of smoke fell from between my lips, my fingertips crushing the previous Newport into the ashtray. I smirked at the way his face scrunched up.

"If you think I'm gonna tell mom, I'm not. We're all worried about you, Elliot, you're changing really fast and it's hard to keep up."

Tobacco wasn't fucking enough and I itched for a burning sensation or a stress-relieving one, something. I needed to feel something that wasn't guilt, let go and forget about the way he looked at me, the way they all looked at me. Kind of resembled the look on my mother's face when she got a call from Dad telling her that I wasn't visiting him as much as I told her.

I hadn't visited him in months, I had been lying to her. I couldn't go see him trying to turn his life around to, since when does my incarcerated father seem like a better guy than me?

"It's called growth." It's called killing yourself slowly, without notice,"I have homework, could you leave?"

"You can talk to me."

Rolling my eyes at that, I attempted to tune him out, checking my messages. Bypassing a few from girls, a couple about a group project I was supposed to be helping with and opening one from Devin, a dealer that worked at Inked, I read what I'd been waiting to hear for weeks. He'd sent it a few days before but I truly didn't care, just happy to see that I wouldn't be stressed for a while.

Dev: Re-upped.

Where you at? I sent back, the anticipation of my high kicking in and I couldn't help but sigh relieved. My brother was still talking in the background but a text back from Devin took my attention.

Dev: Clarson's Creek, got a job.

At that, I jumped, getting up from my bed and grabbing for my jacket, knowing I'd be out late. Wallet and phone in my hand, I went to kick on my shoes. "I'm going out."

"Where?" And ignoring his pointed look, I pushed myself out of the room, going towards the kitchen to check the bus times for that night.

"Does it matter?" But he still looked at me with that stupid concerned look on his face, arms crossed and eyebrows creased and I felt the need to assure him, "don't worry, I'll come back alive, Dad."

• • •

Getting to the slums was second nature to me, often I'd find myself down here, hanging in back alleys with guys twice my size littered in tattoos. I didn't know any of them nor did I really care but what I did care about was the lack of police.

No one really cared about the kids that they thought were going nowhere so cops chose to hang around the upper class, watch to make sure the rich people were okay, motivated by their racial-bias. Cops were afraid to go downtown, terrified. "Dev, man, what's up?"

Devin Brown was another one of me, not rich but not poor, scraping by to stay middle-class. He sold drugs to pay bills and stayed loyal to Lopez, he was a rag doll but it was slightly admirable.

"Cut the chit chat, Rem." his voice was sharp, as it usually was, he wasn't one to let his guard down since his ex dug her way into his life before stealing half his money and leaving. Guys still joked around Inked about how much he played himself. "how much?"

"Two gs."

Devin raised a brow at that but chose not to ask, countering with a "Twenty-five." He could tell I didn't have it, I never had it. I mean, I would if Oliver hadn't set such a pre-destined impression that put me on a blacklist. No stores around town would hire me.

And I wasn't legal yet, Inked was two years out of my reach. "It's always twenty." I didn't even have twenty.

"Nah, Boss said to stop selling to you, you're lucky I'm even helping you out here." I was blacklisted by the drug-dealers too but this one was my fault which coincidentally was also Oliver's fault. If he wasn't my brother, I wouldn't be blacklisted, then I wouldn't be in this predicament.

If he wasn't my brother: I wouldn't be hated, I wouldn't have been consumed by drugs, and I wouldn't have abused the system.

Chuckling a bit to myself at that thought, I dug some money out of my pocket and pretended to count it. I knew exactly what it held: fourteen dollars and ninety-two cents that I had to dig out of the couch cushions. My hand was a bit shaky with how hard I was clutching the change, hoping not a dime escaped me.

"I only have fifteen."

Devin rolled his eyes at that, "Guess you get one."

One gram wasn't enough, it definitely wasn't enough to get me high enough to relax and it wasn't what I needed. I needed two and I needed the high. "I'll pay you back." I found myself rebutting, hoping to change his mind but that only pulled a laugh out of him.

"What are we, friends?"

"I thought maybe we could confess our deepest darkest secrets and bond throughout the time we have together." If drawled sarcastically which didn't even make him crack a smile. The man stood there, leaning on a brick wall, chill as fuck and I wondered what he was actually on.

"Whatever." Rolling his eyes at that, he looked around bored and spoke absentmindedly, he was done with this conversation. If I didn't have twenty-five dollars, he wouldn't sell to me, that was that. "You got issues, kid."

"Who're you looking for?"

"He'll find me." And he was right because within a few minutes, some kid was rounding the corner, black bandana holding back his hair in bleached twists sticking out in every direction. He had dark skin, a mark on his cheek, and bored eyes that looked familiar.

I remembered how they looked with the glare of the fire and a blank look on his face. His voice was familiar. "You're that guy." Digging his hands in the pocket of his long black hoodie, he came to a stop. "Remmer, right?"

And he didn't look like he came from a broken home, he didn't even look like he came from downtown but I knew he did. Brand new Nikes and a mock-yeezy hoodie could fool anyone.

"Yeah." I replied shortly and he nodded quick. Devin must've already known what he wanted because he gave out a price as soon as eyes were on him.

"Six."

He pulled his wallet out, passing the cash over with those same calm, bored eyes, he already looked high. But shit, that was a lot of money. Six-hundred bucks and not a sweat broken, he was either loaded or this was a set up.

"It's in my car."

Parker nodded nonchalantly and before they finished here, I attempted to get what I came for.

"Loan me ten bucks." I requested, my eyes wide and I figured I found my new closest friend, if he kept shitting money out like that, of course.

But, he wasn't easy, I could tell he wasn't feeling giving even this much away and from that, it was clear that money didn't just fall into his hands. "The fuck I look like, man?"

"Not a kid with daddy issues, that's for sure."

He looked conflicted before rolling his eyes, taking another ten out his wallet, he passed it over and we started walking, following Devin to his car. "You owe me."

"I owe a lot of people." When we'd gotten up the street, I fished the rest of my money out of my pocket, handing it all over to Devin, hoping he didn't notice I was still short eight cents but unfortunately, he still did. Muttering under his breath, he shoved it in his pocket and tossed a plastic baggy at me.

"Where you heading?"

"Uptown, military kids are having a party. They paid me double, dumbass rich kids." Grabbing what Devin handed him, he tossed it over to me and unlocked his rusty Toyota, "you coming?"

"Ain't got nothing better to do," hoping it was an offer of a ride, I nodded. "sure."

"Put it under the seats." And with that, we were off, loading it into Parker's car and heading out.

Uptown was a fucking dream, unrealistic to me and Parker's car had stood out amongst the Bentleys and Range Rovers. "So..." I'd spoken up when we'd gotten to a posh as hell neighborhood, the streets suddenly clean and the music heard all the way down the street.

"Yeah?" He seemed distracted, pulling up to a house and my eardrums bursting, Migos was playing in the background and I had a fucking headache.

"You ever been to one of these?"

"Plenty." Pulling to a stop on a long ass drive-way he parked, moving to pop his seatbelt off and get out the car, me following suit. "Blend in, don't talk to certain ones, and when you hear sirens, run, these parties almost always get busted."

"Are the chicks hot?"

Suddenly he laughed and I stared up at the huge house in amazement. "Hell fucking yeah." Following his gaze, I watched as a cute girl with short wavy hair slicked down and a thin dress that hugged her curves came laughing down the driveway. "Thick as hell too. Tell them you're someone famous' kid, they almost always fall for it."

"Park!" One of the rich kids had walked up, dreaded hair and a huge smile.

"Jay, man."

And I felt awkward, Parker embracing him in a quick greeting, 'Jay' pulled away with this look on his face. "You got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, quarter-pound."

His eyes lit up and I knew it was gonna be wild, "We 'bout to get so fucking lit."

• • •

"Fuck!"

There were many pleasantries in life: a cheap dealer, a good grade, love, world peace, whatever.

A high-fuck with a hot girl was on the top of my list.

"Oh my god, yes!"

"Don't stop!" And then she was mumbling, her voice sultry and I found myself pushing even further, my hands gripping the headboard. I was so out of it, her thick thighs shaking as she clawed down my back. Scratching was a huge turn-off for me, if we were being honest, but being higher than Mount Olympus and so drunk I could barely unbutton my own pants and stay focused...

Let's just say, I didn't care anymore.

Tightening her body around mine, I sucked in a sharp breath. She wasn't the best I had in bed, she was hesitant with her blow but she definitely wasn't the worse, she was kinda average but average was sexy when you were this high. She wouldn't stop calling me 'white boy,' there weren't many white boys around here, I found out as the night progressed.

She was really hot though, tiny tits with just the right amount of grabbing and a nice ass that I could watch as she arched her back, ass in my face. My hands were threaded through her soft hair in a cute curly fro and her eyes screwed shut, I guess that's why I found myself drilling her into someone's mattress early in the fucking morning before tossing out a used condom and some vomit.

Dodging a kiss from her swollen lips, I stood, getting myself dressed and she'd done the same, both of us unable to stand still. The fuck was quick and maybe that had to do with the fact that I was in a daze, it was getting late and I needed to get home. That was why when she latched onto my arm, I found myself yanking away. Often I wouldn't be this rude, I'd at least lay with them for a good five minutes before ending our time together with nice words.

But I had to really fucking piss and my eyes were drifting closed, I knew I'd be crashing in someone's living room for a few hours until I was sober enough to call an uber.

A/N:

Okay so, the sex scenes will get more graphic than this, I warned you. Actually sorry about that and I may start putting warnings right before them instead of the beginning of the chapter because I know a lot of people get uncomfortable with it.

And yes, Elliot is into all types of girls which will actually be addressed later, he however is not big on commitment.

Happy Super Bowl Sunday, I hate football.

Updated: Sunday, Feb 5.

Do you like Parker? Which characters from Psychopath are you looking forward to seeing in Pyromaniac? I wanna see who your favorites are.