Despite the collective efforts of him, Benji, and his friends, Victor was still barely treading water.

Alarm blaring at 5 AM, cutting short any dreams he may have been having (which he would soon forget about in a moment anyway), Victor swatted at his phone on his night table, knocking it off. He sighed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he dragged himself out of bed to quiet the noise that honestly was giving him war flashbacks. If he didn't need it, and if he hadn't gotten homework from his anger management therapist, he could have easily sent that cursed device into the wall where it belonged so it would just shut the hell up. Instead, he took some deep breaths and rose to dress himself.

He didn't put much thought into his outfit, pulling out the first flannel he touched and pairing it with a pair of dark brown trousers. Blue and brown. Not the worst he could concoct, and he was thankful his wardrobe didn't consist of any really outlandish colors or else he could easily embarrass himself. Not that he cared, of course. He had bigger fish to fry.

Grabbing his bag, he stuffed his basketball uniform inside which he had luckily had the chance to wash and dry last night. He didn't always have that option. Yawning, he threw his laptop in the bag along with the books he had left open on his desk the night before, doing a once-over before turning to leave his room. Who had time to make their bed these days?

He checked his phone. 5:07. A little late but not too bad. Shuffling into the kitchen, he glanced around. Sometimes, Isabel would be awake complaining about not being able to sleep and would offer to make him breakfast; today was not one of those days.

Groaning, Victor opened the fridge to see what he could eat. He didn't have much of an appetite but it would be good to have something before he left the house. There was some leftover roast chicken and rice, and he contemplated if there were any better options before taking out the Tupperware containers and making himself a plate. He placed it in the microwave, pulling out his phone as he waited.

There were a few notifications: one from Mia from the middle of the night, and one from Benji, who was already probably in class.

Mia had said:

"Meet me for a study session today at 2."

Rubbing his face with his hand, Victor gritted his teeth.

He wrote back:

"Okay, thanks. See you then 😌"

Going down the list of messages, he smiled despite himself as he opened what Benji had sent him.

"Good luck today 🍀 I know you can do it! 💪🏼 Also I'm working on a song inspired by you so hopefully I can finish it soon and share it with you. Love you, V. ❤️"

Shaking his head, Victor wrote back:

"Hope your day goes well too~ 😌❤️ Looking forward to hearing what you've got in store for me. 🥰"

Truthfully, the messages and calls with Benji were some of the only things that gave him any pleasure these days. As he finished composing his message, the microwave ding ed and Victor all but jumped out of his seat at the table. He grabbed his food, hissing as he touched the hot plate (he never learned did he), almost dropping it as he carried it to the table. It was already 5:15 and he was running behind.

Shoveling fork-fulls of unevenly heated food into his mouth and having to pause whenever he burned his mouth, Victor tried his best to keep his food down. It was hard to eat at this hour in the morning, but he didn't have time to waste. When he had finished his plate, feeling nauseous, he put it in the dishwasher.

He had wasted time with reading his messages and now he was paying for it. Opening the fridge again, he pulled out some bread and various fillings — ham, cheese, lettuce, pickles, the works — and threw together some sandwiches for himself for later. Dining hall food was expensive. He packed another portion of leftovers despite already tiring of the flavor, and shoved everything into his school bag along with a few bottles of Gatorade and water.

It was 5:45 when he got into the car, cursing under his breath. Putting the keys in the ignition, the engine stalled. He tried a few more times. No dice.

The little symbol telling him he needed an oil change (which he had ignored, of course) came on again. He smashed his fist on the steering wheel, honking the horn by accident and setting his heartbeat off before he exited the car and went back into his apartment to find some replacement oil.

There was a bit left and he would have to buy more later, so he made a mental note which he of course promptly forgot once he had taken care of the initial problem of his car not starting. Exhaling in relief once his car finally showed itself to not be a complete piece of trash, he drove off to have a visit with his anger management therapist. It was 6:02.

Ironically, Victor had to drive almost an hour away in the middle of buttfuck nowhere to go to anger management, which tested his patience. Unfortunately, this was the only way he could save money. So he went.

His anger management therapist's name was Dr. Franklin Delgado, a man approaching retirement age who was one of the calmest people Victor had ever met. He spoke with a soft, slow Southern drawl that almost put Victor to sleep. His office was full of plants, many browned with neglect, but still adding to the ambience of calm that made Victor feel like he was being engulfed by a cloud.

The session had gone as well as he would have expected — he reflected on some past events and why he flew off the handle. It was good to not be treated like he was crazy or a burden, and Victor appreciated that, especially when Dr. Delgado tried to get him to really dig deep. They parted with more homework for Victor to work on helping himself calm down. Hopefully his regular therapy appointment would help with that.

It was already 8, and Victor had his first class at 9. He wasn't looking forward to sitting in traffic and yet here he was, doing just that. Luckily, he had gotten a handle on the map of Georgia State's campus, so that saved him a bit of stress. Still, his blood pressure was rising, and he turned the radio on in an attempt to sedate himself.

Once he arrived on campus at 8:50, he parked and grabbed his things, running as fast as he could, arriving just in front of the professor at 8:59. He heaved as he sat down at one of the unoccupied tables in the lecture hall, scrambling to get his things out as the professor started lecturing on constitutional law.

Victor could feel himself dozing off already, and this was exacerbated by the professor's lecture style. He tried to be discrete as he rummaged through his bag, finding his golden ticket in the bottom: a small bag of pills. Taking one out of the little ziploc baggie before closing the bag and dropping it back inside where it came from, Victor glanced around before popping the pill and taking a sip of water.

After a few minutes he felt the Adderall kick in, his brain wired as he took notes so fast his wrists started to hurt. The lecture went by quickly and by noon, he felt like he had gotten a second wind of energy. Once he exited the lecture hall, he could feel a pang of hunger hitting him again. It had been a while since he'd eaten, and so he allowed himself to sit down on a bench outside to eat one of his sandwiches.

His next class was at 11:30, and this one was slightly less boring but equally intense — American legal history. He continued taking notes but was thankful that the professor had a more engaging pedagogical style, and found himself absorbing more of the information.

Finally, it was 2, and Victor was meant to meet Mia for a study session. He met up with her at the quad, where she grabbed a table for them and helped him with some of his assignments and copying notes from chemistry and philosophy. She tried to help him with his other coursework but since she was studying art, they didn't have a whole lot of classes in common. Victor was still grateful for her help.

They studied together for almost two hours, with Victor eating another sandwich as he worked, until Victor had to run to basketball practice at 4. He popped another Adderall, washing it down with Gatorade, as he ran across campus to the gym to change into proper clothes for practice. When he saw Andrew, he nodded at him in acknowledgement, before throwing on his clothes and meeting the team on the court.

Practice finished at 6, and Victor bolted back into the locker room to shower and change into some clean clothes. By 6:30, he was back in his car making his way to his therapist's office, eating as he drove. Luckily there was a good therapist covered by his family's insurance not far from school, and by 7, he was there.

While there were no major breakthroughs that day, Victor was happy they had finally moved off the topic of Derek and his incident. There was only so much he could say about it and he felt like he had said it all. His therapist, an old white woman named Dr. Rebecca Hall (who was of course recommended by Simon's mother Emily), reminded him a bit of his grandmother but much less homophobic, thankfully. She actually seemed interested in his love life, ironically, and asked him how he was dealing with being away from Benji. He admitted it was difficult, but he was happy to talk about Benji until he ran out of breath.

Their hour was up too quickly, but Victor was looking forward to their next session. He collected his things and left. It was 8, and he still had one more thing on his to-do list that day: his mandated community service. This was probably the least annoying part of his day ironically, because at least he got to spend some time with animals at the local animal shelter, even if it was mostly just to clean up after them, at least he got the chance to play with them a bit. It helped him de-stress a bit after a long day.

He clocked out at 9, driving back home and arriving at 9:30. Pilar and Isabel were curled up on the couch watching television, and they greeted him with yawns as he entered. Isabel had cooked some fish stew and told Victor to help himself, which he did without hesitation. He took his food with him to his room, eating as he continued on his schoolwork.

By midnight, when his eyes strained to stay open against the light of his laptop, Victor figured it was time to go to bed. He stripped down to his underwear before sliding under his covers, feeling heavy. Closing his eyes, he waited for sleep to come.

When it didn't, he opened his eyes, frowning. He'd been up for eighteen hours; he should be passing out by now.

Sighing, Victor opened his night table and moved some objects around, withdrawing another bag, this one full of dry, wrinkled green pieces of plant. He sat up as he pulled out a box of cigarillos, slicing one of them open and emptying the contents into another piece of paper, which he folded up and set aside. Separating the plant pieces by crushing them with his fingers, he sprinkled them inside the split cigarillo and closed it back up with his spit. It was incredibly ugly and looked like it had been made by a child, but it would do. He snapped part of it off and hid the rest where he had found it, pulling out a lighter and taking it along with the folded paper of tobacco into the bathroom with him.

He flushed the tobacco down the toilet, opened the window, and stuffed the bottom of the door with a towel to keep the stench of weed from floating through the house and giving him away. Lighting the tiny, shitty blunt, Victor leaned out the window and inhaled, doing what he had been told and trying his best not to cough. He held the smoke in his lungs for a moment before giving a shaky exhale.

After a few more hits, Victor eyed the blunt and thought about the money he had spent to make it, and got rid of the rest. He already felt the high overtaking him, relaxing him and making him feel like he would pass out. Fanning out the bathroom for a moment, Victor then wandered down the corridor back to his bed, finally letting sleep overtake him.

When he woke up, he felt like there was water in his lungs. He was in the middle of a vast expanse of water with no shores or boats in sight. His head was barely above water, dunking underneath every so often. Soon, he knew the sea would claim him. His clothes weighed him down, sticking to him like they, too, feared the tide would swallow them.

The sky was dark, opening up to the most brilliant view of the Milky Way he had ever seen. Purples, blues, and oranges accompanied by trillions of tiny white dots stretched above and before him, making him stop his movements simply so he could stare in awe.

He felt something grab his leg and he looked down, spitting salty water from his mouth as a familiar face rose from the depths to greet him, knocking him out of his dumbfounded stare.

Benji kissed him, his lips soft just as he remembered them. For a moment, Victor stopped struggling, simply gazing at Benji, his hair dripping with seawater but looking angelic regardless. But in the blink of an eye, Benji's eyes turned black, his teeth sharpening into points. Victor hadn't noticed that Benji had latched onto him, pinning his arms to his sides.

As Benji grinned, he pulled Victor down to the depths with him, and all Victor could do was scream and let the sea invade him.

Shooting up from his bed in a cold sweat, Victor's eyes went wide and he looked like he had just seen a ghost. Perhaps he had.