Carlos’ head was pounding. He had never been on any kind of drugs before, not since a vague teenage rebellion at least, and never anything as strong as the things you’d both been roofied with.

It was all a bit of a blur, but he remembered enough. Remembered finding Sadie on the video cameras, hearing her long story about Owen before the word began to spin. The last thing he remembered before waking up to a bunch of concerned firefighters was the sight of you, passed out on the floor.

“I won’t ask if you’re okay,” He said quietly, pressing his shoulder against yours. As freaked out and scared as he was, he knew it was worse for you. He knew you would consider this a relapse. Starting over your sobriety, roofied or not. “Because I’m not okay, let alone you. So, what do you need?”