Proud of me?

Kian

Sure, I knew who Eden was.

We'd met before because of Mal. But never would I look at that tiny redhead and think she would be into doing drugs. Or even willing to buy from me.

Apparently she got the number from Rory and told me wanted something stronger than what I give him. So anything that was weed I guess.

She wanted to meet me out of BCS after school on Thursday and needing the money and not having a shift at the garage, it was what was easiest for me.

I leaned against the side of some random blacked-out car, scrolling on my phone as I waited for her to show up.

"Kian." I heard a small voice call out before I looked up from my phone, seeing the small redhead in front of me.

"Feely, right?"

She nodded.

"Didn't think I'd ever see you here."

She shrugged, shifting on her feet. "Yeah, well."

Was that all she had?

I exhaled a short breath, shaking my head slightly. "What do you need?"

Eden swallowed hard. "Something strong."

I raised an eyebrow, questioning her choices. "You sure?"

She nodded once again.

I didn't move at first, just kept looking at her, waiting for her to back out. When she didn't, I reached into his pocket, pulled out a small bag, and held it out.

She took it, staring at the bag of small white pills.

"What is it?"

I tilted his head slightly, watching her. "Does it matter?"

She hesitated. "Yeah. I don't want to—"

I sighed, slipping my hands into the pockets of my jacket. "It's benzos. Just a couple of Xanax. Won't kill you unless you're an idiot with it."

She nodded slowly, my fingers curling tighter around the bag.

I smirked slightly. "Don't mix it with drink unless you want to end up in A&E."

"Right," she muttered, tucking it into her pocket.

"Don't take it at school either. Teachers clock that shit fast."

She nodded again.

"See you around, Feely." I said before walking away, leaving her stood there.  I'd get my money another time, I didn't care about that right now.

All I could think about was how Mallory would feel knowing I just should her best friend benzos.

Knowing that I could be the cause of anything fatal that could happen to her.

I didn't want to think about it, but the thought kept gnawing at me.

Mallory.

I knew she'd never look at me the same way again. Hell, I couldn't even look at myself properly. Here I was, doing deals like it was a casual thing, handing out drugs to someone she trusted, someone I was supposed to be protecting. Eden wasn't some stranger to me; she was her best friend. She'd been to the house, to parties, to all the things Mallory had trusted her with, and now I was the one setting her up with something that could screw her life up.

I had to shake my head, trying to push away the guilt that was creeping in.

But it didn't help. Not when I thought of Mallory's face.

She'd be so disappointed in me.

Fuck.

I wasn't stupid enough to think this was just something that could go away. I knew what I was doing. I'd always known what I was doing. But I didn't expect it to feel so... wrong. Handing over a small bag of pills felt like a betrayal. I wasn't just putting my own life at risk anymore. I was putting hers in danger too.

What the fuck was I doing?

I leaned against the wall of the alley and tried to focus. I needed to stop thinking about it. I had to get back to the garage and pretend like everything was fine. But even as I stood there, trying to breathe through the pressure in my chest, I couldn't shake the thought of Mallory finding out.

The buzzing of my phone pulled me from my thoughts.

It was her.

Lynchy: "Hey, you good?"

My fingers hovered over the screen, but I couldn't bring myself to answer right away. How could I? How could I tell her what I'd just done? How could I explain that the person I was pretending to be—the person she was starting to like—wasn't the person I was at all?

I typed and deleted a couple of responses before finally settling on a simple reply.

Me: "Yeah, all good. Just busy."

I didn't like the lie, but it was the only one I could offer.

I felt my heart racing again. How could I go back to pretending like nothing was wrong? I couldn't. Not anymore. But how could I fix this? How could I get her to still trust me, still want me, when I'd gone and fucked things up like this?

I didn't even have an answer to that.

I wasn't sure I ever would.

I slid the phone back into my pocket, breathing deeply. The weight of what I'd done crushed me, and I couldn't escape it.

I knew I was pushing Mallory away without even trying. And I hated myself for it.

But it was too late to take it back now.

I needed something to take the edge off.

The guilt was eating me alive, and no matter how much I tried to focus on the present, it kept circling back to Mallory. The thought of what I'd done—giving Eden those pills, knowing what could happen if things went wrong—was too much. I needed something to numb it. Something to shut my brain off for a while.

So, I did what I always did when I couldn't handle it: I got high.

I made my way to the small stash I kept hidden at home, a place where I could forget for a few hours. I wasn't proud of it, but in that moment, I didn't care. The high was like a soft blanket, pulling me away from the sharp edges of reality. It made everything seem distant, muted. It let me breathe again.

I exhaled slowly, leaning against the wall of my room, my head spinning just enough to make everything blurry. For a few minutes, I forgot about everything—the drugs, the guilt, Mallory, my dad, everything. It was just me, the buzz, and the quiet of the room.

Eventually, I pulled myself together enough to leave my room and head downstairs. The house was quieter than usual, but I wasn't complaining. It meant I could just slip in and out unnoticed, do what I had to do to keep everything under control.

But when I walked into the living room, I stopped short.

My father was sitting on the couch, watching some shit on the TV. He was... waiting for me?

"Oi, Kian," Da's voice was rough, like he'd been drinking but wasn't completely gone. He sat up straight, a rare look on his face. It wasn't the usual anger or disappointment—it was something else. Something I wasn't used to seeing.

I swallowed hard, unsure of how to react.

"What?" I mumbled, not really looking at him. I could feel his eyes on me, but I wasn't ready for whatever was coming. I wasn't ready for him to notice anything about me, especially not now.

Shane leaned forward, fixing me with a stare. "You been out doing good work, yeah?"

I blinked, confused for a moment. "What?"

He nodded toward the door. "That deal you made the other day—good work. I've been hearing about it. You've got a reputation, son."

I froze, everything around me suddenly feeling too real. I was high, and now my dad was actually giving me praise? What the hell was going on?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I muttered, trying to play it cool, but the pit in my stomach was growing. I didn't need his approval. I didn't want it. Not for this. Not for what I'd done.

Da smiled, a dark gleam in his eyes. "Don't play stupid. I know you're out there making moves. And I'm proud of you. Just don't fuck it up, alright?"

It hit me like a punch to the gut.

Proud of me?

This was the same man who'd spent years telling me I was worthless. The same man who'd put me through hell, made me feel small and weak. And now he was proud?

It didn't make sense. I didn't want this. I didn't want him to feel anything about me, but here he was, saying the words I'd never thought I'd hear.

My throat tightened. "I'm not—" I started, but I couldn't finish. I couldn't say the words. I didn't want to make it worse, didn't want to admit that everything I was doing was a mistake. That I wasn't proud of it.

"Don't be stupid," he cut me off, the edge of his voice sharpening. "You've got something. And I can't let that go to waste."

I didn't say anything. I just stood there, trying to push the feelings down, trying to ignore the suffocating weight of it all. My father was proud of me. For all the wrong reasons. But that's how he was. Always had been.

I turned away from him, heading for the door, needing to get out of there. I couldn't stand the feeling of his praise when I knew I didn't deserve it. I couldn't stand how everything in my life seemed to be falling apart at the edges.

But just before I left the room, I heard him call after me.

"Don't mess this up, Ki. You've got potential."

His words followed me out the door, a reminder of everything I was doing wrong.