Page 52 of Fragile

“Quinn, what is it you need?” he asks softly, but I also hear the amusement in his voice.

“Don’t worry, I can do it.”

“Okay, if you say so,” he says, walking away to sit on my bed behind me. “I’ll let you do your thing.”

As I sweep my hair from my face, I creep forward again, this time steadier. I sneak my hand into his bag, fingers brushing against the familiar red and white container, and I unscrew the lid without hesitation. Slowly, I turn to face him, settling onto my butt and lifting the bottle high for him to see, victory coursing through my veins. “See! I can do—”

“Quinn, no!” Miles shouts just as he lunges toward me with a speed that catches me off guard. His hand connects with mine, knocking the open pot from my hand. It hits the edge of the drawers and explodes open, tablets scattering across the ground like marbles.

“Oh my god. What was that for?” The words escape in a hiss, heart racing from the sudden reaction.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, cheeks flushing. “That, uh, that Tylenol is out of date. I don’t know why I keep it in here. I should, uh, throw it out. Yeah, I’ll do that.” He frantically gathers the tablets from the carpet while I watch, bewildered.

Does Tylenol have an expiration date? I guess it does; I just never thought about it. I watch him dart across the ground collecting the tablets when I spot one next to my leg. Picking it up, I immediately know something isn’t right. “W-what are these?” I ask, my voice uneven.

He freezes, his eyes wide and filled with something that looks like fear. I follow his gaze to the tablet in my hand. They’re small, round, and white, and they’re definitely not Tylenol. Miles schools his face and deftly plucks the tablet from my hand. “They’re just some extra vitamins. You know, for energy.”

I narrow my eyes at him, not buying it for a second. “Vitamins?”

“Yeah, my dad has me on all kinds of supplements,” he says, then crosses the room to sit on my bed again, placing the pot next to him. “It’s easier to keep them in one place.” I study his face, searching for any telltale signs of deceit. Miles has always been good at lying. I remember him doing it enough to get out of trouble with his dad growing up, but I know his tells. One of them being avoidance. “Come, sit down, let me ice your ankle.”

My mind races with questions, but I force myself to stay calm. “They don’t look like vitamins, Miles. You said they were out-of-date Tylenol...”

He looks away, his jaw tightening, and then he releases a heavy sigh. “Quinn, it’s nothing. Just let it go, okay?” The pleading note in his voice hits me square in my chest like a bolt of lightning, because I know something isn’t right.

“No, I won’t. You’re lying to me. What are they?”

Miles sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, but he doesn’t answer me.

“Miles?” I say tentatively, bringing myself to stand on my good foot, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle as I hobble over to him. I don’t get two shuffles before I’m hoisted upright, and he moves me, depositing me on my bed. His breathing is harsh and unforgiving, his chest heaving against his t-shirt. Still ignoring me, he moves my leg to rest on his lap and gently places the ice pack on my sore ankle.

The silence between us is suffocating. Laden with secrets I didn’t know he had. Ones he won’t even admit to now. “Is this what you’re doing with Levi?” I ask, knowing I’ve seen them together a few times.

When he doesn’t answer, I feel like I’ve hit a nerve with how his body language becomes rigid and clinical as he adjusts the ice on my ankle. The immediate cooling sensation travels over my skin, easing the throb slightly, but it does nothing to soothe the tension in the air. The icy chill wraps around me like an unwelcome guest, just as the awkward silence lingers, thick and heavy.

Realizing that bulldozing into the conversation might not be the best way to get something out of him, I take a deep breath. “You don’t have to tell me, but you know I will help you,” I tell him quietly. I can’t ignore the fact I’ve seen something, and I definitely can’t ignore anything about Miles.

“They’re…” He closes his eyes, swallowing slowly. “They’re amphetamines, alright?”

The word hangs in the air between us as I try to reconcile this new piece of information with the person I’ve known all my life. He opens his eyes, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something—shame, maybe, or regret. “Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “I… I didn’t want to tell you. Didn’t want you to look at me like that.”

I don’t know what to say. My tongue feels too big for my mouth as I swallow back what feels like a golf ball. My heart races, thumping loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I feel my palms grow clammy, every muscle in my body tense, coiling like a spring ready to snap. I catch myself biting my lip, an unconscious attempt to keep the wrong words from spilling out.

Each thought collides with the next, leaving me more confused. It’s as if I’m seeing him for the first time, and the weight of that realization drops like a heavy stone in my stomach. I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, but I end up coughing to clear the thick feeling that feels like it’s lodged there.

“H-how long?” I manage to force out.

“A while,” he admits, looking down at his hands.

“Why?” I whisper.

“I need them.” He meets my gaze, and the tortured look clouding his eyes makes me shudder in disbelief. “To be better. To be whatever it is my dad needs me to be.”

“Your dad?” I question, my voice rising. “You can’t just take drugs because of him!”

“It’s not like that,” he snaps back. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” I challenge, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Help me understand why you’re risking your health, your future, for him.”

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