((I have been waiting to write this chapter since the start of this book seriously this is relieving so much author tension right here *deep breaths* probably gonna be a very long chapter or a two-parter))

Scott was lying on his back, staring despondently at the ceiling, stuck in the depressed part of his cycle of his third day since the club. He'd been that way for a good few hours now, after having his last spaz attack when Linda called to ask whether or not he planned on meeting up again any time soon.

Out of the corner of his mind, he heard the doorbell ringing. He shrugged it off. He was probably hearing things again. He kept hearing things recently. He didn't like it.

The doorbell rang once again.

He rolled over onto his stomach, groaning into the couch cushions. He didn't want to see people right now. He wanted to forget the rest of the world existed.

This time, the ringing of the bell was accompanied by loud knocking on his door. Someone really needed to see him.

"Fine!" Scott snapped out loud to nobody, feeling himself getting riled up again. He pulled himself off of the cushions of his faded orange couch and onto his feet. He had almost put on a dress today; it was only the cool temperature that had convinced him to stay in his pyjamas instead.

He dragged himself over to his front door and undid the lock, swinging it wide open. He blinked at the person he saw standing there, surprised. "Oh."

Ollie strangely looked as - if not more - awkward as Scott did. He rubbed the back of his neck, his green eyes eventually flicking up to meet Scott's, "Uh. Hi."

"Hey, Ollie..." Scott swallowed faintly. What does one exactly say to someone they haven't seen since they slept together?

Before any other attempt of conversation could be made, however, Oliver launched forward, pulling Scott into a hug, "I'm so sorry I didn't come around sooner. How are you?"

Scott smiled, feeling the will to cry bubbling up deep inside his chest and trying to force its way up his throat. There were no words to describe how much he had really needed a hug right now. He wrapped his own arms around Oliver, simply happy for the comfort. "I'm doing okay."

Oliver broke away again, "Muy bien. I'm glad."

"Do you wanna come in...?" Scott asked, stepping back from the door to let the Mexican pass.

"If... If you want me to..." Oliver stepped inside, and that awkwardness seemed to return.

With half-formed words and nervous laughs, the two men walked into the living room.

Oliver sat down on the couch across from Scott. All was silent for a good few minutes. Scott picked at a stain on the coffee table. Oliver stared down at his knees.

"...I..." Oliver started finally, "I know it doesn't help, and it doesn't justify what I did, but... I want you to know... I wouldn't have done it if I knew you were drugged."

"What?" Scott tilted his head in surprise and confusion. That was random. "Drugged?"

Oliver looked up at Scott in surprise, "Don't you know what happened Friday night?"

"Well- yeah... We... We... But I..." Scott trailed off. It was true; he couldn't remember anything after taking that drink, and in all honesty, surely he never would have slept with Oliver in his right mind. "I was drugged?" That changed everything. That explained everything.

"You didn't realise?" Oliver's green eyes examined him, filled with concern, "You must be so confused..." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Scott. I... I was angry, I was drunk... I just wanted to blow off some steam... I didn't think about the possibility that you were drugged. I thought you just genuinely wanted..." He trailed off.

Scott frowned slightly. "You mean... I didn't... give consent..."

Oliver swallowed, taking a deep breath. "No. No, you didn't."

"Which means..." Scott suddenly felt quite sick, little pieces falling together in his mind and painting a very unsavoury picture, "I was date-raped?"

Scott suddenly realised with great surprise that Oliver was trembling faintly all over as he nodded. His voice was strained as he forced out, "T-Technically... yes."

Scott found himself having to control his own tremors as he thought about the consequences of what had happened. An entire whirlwind of emotions ran through his body like a hurricane. Part of him was in denial (because stuff like this didn't happen in real life, surely), part of him was falling into depression faster and deeper than ever before. (Just what he needed on top of everything. He was a victim of abuse as well...). Most of him was hurt. It... It kind of hit hard that Oliver had done it. Yet at the same time... It was still Scott's fault. He placed himself in that position. He was the one who left his drink unattended, and the one who gave all the wrong signals to Ollie. Ollie couldn't really be blamed for his own stupidity.

Oliver seemed to be waiting for some violent outburst; he watched Scott like a little child in front of an angry parent. "Would... You like me to leave? You want some time to yourself?"

"No, no... I'm fine," Scott breathed. "A little... um... confused... but fine. D-don't worry about it, okay? It's not your fault."

Ollie shot up to look at him, his eyes wide, "You're crazy! You're a victim of sexual abuse, and I'm... I'm the abuser... I'll never be able to forgive myself for what I've done to you, Scott, and I'll never expect your forgiveness, either."

Scott smiled, "Heh, t-that's sweet. It was an honest mistake, on both of our parts. You didn't mean to do it, at least... You weren't the one who put it in my drink..." He paused, a terrible thought forming in his mind. "...Were you?"

Oliver flinched back, obviously hurt, "Scott, I'd never!"

Scott nodded slightly. He bit his lip, "I don't remember anything."

"I can imagine," Oliver agreed. "That is the point of the drug, after all." 

"Can... uh, can you tell me what happened, then? I mean..." Scott looked around the room, trying to choose his words in a way that seemed as inoffensive as possible. "After you discovered I was drugged... did... did you stop?"

"Scott..." Oliver whispered, "¿Cómo puedes pensar eso? How could you think that? Of course I stopped... Do you really think I'd be that cruel? The kind of pain that inflicts on someone, the emotional turmoil it creates... why would I ever intentionally do that to anyone?"

"Okay," Scott let out a sigh. "I know. Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that. So... when did you stop?"

"You passed out," Oliver said. "W-We... We'd been kissing, a-and..." He took a deep breath; Scott noticed his trembling coming back. "I was just about to move things along... b-but before I could... could undress you fully... I realised you'd blacked out."

Scott blinked, "Wait a minute. We... We didn't go... all the way?"

"No?" Oliver looked up, "Did you think we did? Nowhere near it!"

"Oh," Scott looked to the side. That made things better, he supposed. At least, if it was only kissing and such, he didn't feel so bad about cheating on Vincent. Plus, it at least meant he hadn't actually been "raped" as such. Attempted rape, perhaps, was a better term, although Oliver had never intentionally 'attempted' it.

While Scott came to terms with this huge turn of events, he offered Oliver a coffee, which Oliver originally refused, saying Scott owed him absolutely nothing, but after Scott brewed it anyway, Oliver took it gratefully and drank it.

"How old are you, Oliver?" Scott asked, putting down his empty coffee, his mind still whirling with thoughts. "It's just occurred to me that I don't know."

Oliver shrugged. He put down his coffee on the table (it was still almost full). "To the best of my knowledge, I'm 22."

"Twen-What?!" Scott looked at him, "Twenty-two?! But- You're four years younger than I am? You seem so old for your age! You're way too young to be holding yourself to blame for sexual abuse."

Oliver laughed out loud at that, "Too young? That's interesting. But if it helps, I didn't know you were older than me, either. I thought you might have been 21, 22 tops."

Scott laughed as well, "I wish."

In the end, Oliver pulled out a sheet of paper, covered in Spanish scribble. He explained that he'd talked to his share-house leader, (Scott didn't quite catch the name; it sounded like Hey-soos? Hesus?), about the different types of date-rape drugs so that he might be able to identify what Scott had been drugged with. He explained that while not much could be done about the symptoms, Scott might like to know at least what he'd experienced.

"There are three main drugs," Oliver said. "Ro-Roh-Rohip-," He squinted at the paper, "I have no idea how to pronounce that in English. Anyway. The R-Drug, GHB and Keta...? Ketamine! R-Drug is the most basic, but it takes the longest to work. You seemed to come straight from the bar to me, so we can rule that one out. There's no way it could have worked that quickly."

Scott nodded, "Alright. What about the other two?"

"Well, GHB can sometimes cause seizures. Had any seizures recently?" Oliver asked.

"Uh- no. No, no seizures," Scott shrugged helplessly.

Oliver clicked his tongue, "The drug works a little differently on everyone, but that's the most defining feature. Okay, let's put a question mark on that one..." He hummed, looking over the paper, "Ketamine. The defining features..." He muttered the symptoms under his breath until, "Ah! Vomiting, feeling numb, inexplicable swinging between anger and extreme depression, audial and visual hallucinations-"

"Wait, stop!" Scott put a hand out as if to physically pause Oliver. "That's- I've had that- All of that!"

"Really?" Oliver looked up at Scott. "All of it?"

"Yeah," Scott couldn't help but feel excited, like a spy uncovering some big secret. "What did you call it? Ketamine?"

"Ketamine, yeah. It's technically a legal drug, and virtually undetectable, so I'm afraid we can't prove anything," Oliver said.

 "No, no, that's fine..." Scott grinned. "I was starting to get concerned about that kind of stuff. I thought I might have been going into shock or something."

"Says here the symptoms should only last up to three days," Oliver traced some Spanish with his finger. "Today's the third day, so after today... you shouldn't have to worry about it any more!" He looked up at Scott and smiled.

Scott laughed out loud, relief washing over him. He really had been starting to get really concerned that he was developing serious depression or anxiety. "Thank goodness."

Oliver sighed, "Good. I'm so glad. Maybe I can't undo what I did, but... at least I feel like I helped somehow, even if I could never make it up to you."

Scott chuckled, "Oliver, just forget about it already. I completely forgive you."

Oliver's green eyes widened to the size of saucers, he stared at Scott in silence for a long time, "You... what?"

"I said, I forgive you," Scott smiled at him. "Look, it was all a haze. We were both confused, but it's not like we went all the way and... while I still might need a while to think over things, it's not like I can blame you for drugging me and... I can tell it took you a lot of guts to come over here today. You more than made it up to me."

He left Oliver sitting there, staring into nothing, as he stood up, taking both of their empty cups of coffee to the kitchen and giving them a quick wash before packing them away. He hummed to himself as he did it. It felt good forgiving Oliver. The poor kid was only just twenty, after all. He couldn't go blaming himself for an accident.

When he walked back out to the living room, Oliver looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Something in his gaze seemed slightly off, slightly panicked, slightly distracted. It made Scott pause.

He saw Oliver take a deep breath, looking like he was about to jump off a cliff. Finally, he spoke.

"Kidnapped. I was kidnapped, at five years of age."