I type notes on my laptop as I recline on a plush white Cloud sofa in the Kims’ living room. Rain beats down on the house in torrential waves, casting the space in a dull gray pall. It’s one of those summer thunderstorms; the skies have been immaculately clear for the last few weeks, so this heavy rain has arrived to cool things down.

Helping A Friend With Addiction, the article on my screen reads.

“We’ll split up,” Jin had said. “Tom, Jungkook, and I can research magical ways to suppress energy. Dev, Joo- you two look into the addiction side of things.”

“You guys can’t tell anyone else,” I told them. “The entire Kado is trying to capture her. We need to keep this top secret.”

“Should we tell Sofia?” Dev asked.

Tom shook his head. “I told her to stay in Rhode Island for her own safety. She’s spending her summer at RISD.”

“How the did Lucy get uppers?” Jungkook suddenly blurted out. He was relatively quiet after we all left Jimin’s house and regrouped at Tom’s. “Those pills require a dealer, and even if you find one, they’re insanely expensive. I could only afford to do them a few times.”

I narrowed my eyes. If Jungkook Jeon, wealthy heir residing in Windsong, couldn’t financially sustain an uppers habit, then how was Lucy obtaining them?

“We can ask Jimin to look into that. He has higher clearance than us- he can look into the Kado databases about black market dealers and cartel paths in the area,” Jin responded.

All of us grimaced at the mention of Jimin. “I want to keep him as uninvolved in this as possible,” Dev said, wrinkling his nose.

“The only reason I trust him is because he’s doing this to cover his own .” Jin snorted. “The four of us are the only people who know the truth about Lucy. He can’t go to anyone else.”

Dev rolled his eyes. “So we’re just here to do his dirty work.”

“I’m fine with it,” Jungkook said, his voice casual. “My mom was one of the Kado council members. I don’t really want her dead.”

The memory causes a shudder to run down my spine. Jungkook’s mom was one of the reasons why Lucy and Meena almost died. But wow terrifying must it be for her life to be at stake?

I navigate to a new article that’s called, Helping Someone With An Opioid Addiction.

The sound of the door slamming open causes me to jolt in surprise. Taehyung stalks into the living room, his entire body drenched from the rain. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of running shorts and Airpods. Taehyung hasn’t noticed I’m sitting on the couch; for a moment, I simply watch as he greedily drinks from his water bottle, droplets dripping down his chiseled torso.

.

He’s running a hand through his floppy, wet hair when he sees me watching him. His gaze instantly hardens. I become acutely aware of the fact that I am only wearing one of Lucy’s thin silk cami-and-shorts sets.

Taehyung eyes trail up my legs, catching a sliver of bare skin from where my top is riding up.

Wordlessly, he turns and heads upstairs to his room. I exhale out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Focus,” I mutter to myself, trying to push out the image of him working out, hot and sweaty and panting, rain dripping down his body. Embarrassment and anger and shame swirl in the pit of my stomach- I don’t want to think about him, I shouldn’t think about him- I have important things to do. Thunder claps through the house as the rain comes down heavier. The chaotic storm somehow calms me down. I snuggle back into the sofa and continue researching.

These articles say we should approach her when she’s sober. Are there magical rehab facilities? Could we detox her?

A skunky, burnt odor wafts through the air, so pungent it makes my eyes water. I jolt up, my face wrinkled in disgust.

“What the hell?” I mutter- and then it dawns on me. My fists clench up by my side. “Taehyung.”

I stomp up the stairs, taking two at a time. When I slam Taehyung’s door open, I see him lazily stare at me from his bed. A blunt is nestled between his fingers as he lounges on his plush black sheets, a torpid smirk playing at his lips.

“Is this a ing frat house?” I snap. “Why are you smoking weed inside?”

He narrows his eyes. As if to purposely piss me off, he takes another drag from his blunt. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Just because your mom and Andrews are in New York doesn’t mean you can smoke up like this. It reeks."

“I don’t give a about what you want.”

“You made me live here!”

Lightning cracks through the sky, illuminating the dark bedroom. Taehyung’s eyes do not leave me as thunder rolls through the air, so loud it causes the floor to tremble. The tension hangs so thick in the air I can feel it prickling at my skin.

All of a sudden, without thinking, I stalk over to his bed and grab the blunt from his hand.

I don’t know what I’m doing. Every one of my nerves feels electrified. There’s a challenge in his gaze that makes me want to prove myself to him.

I unsteadily raise the blunt to my lips and inhale.

His eyes widen- and then narrow in amusement after I collapse into body-wracking coughs. I massage my throat, trying to alleviate the scratchiness- , I need water. My face flushes even deeper when Taehyung places a warm hand on my neck. The pain in my throat abates.

“Breathe,” he murmurs.

“ off,” I say, trying to slap his hand away, but he catches my wrist. My heart skips a beat when he pulls me onto his bed with him.

His voice is low and raspy as he asks, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Why? You’re the only one who can smoke?” I ask defiantly.

“What happened to drugs are for ?”

“This isn’t for me,” I snap. The sudden admission causes embarrassment to flood my body- my eyes dart away from his face.

Part of me wants it out of spite. I will never be as pathetic as him, even if I’m getting high. A drug couldn’t reduce me to the lazy, apathetic mess that he is.

But another part of me is purely curious. And the final sliver in my heart- the sliver I do not want to acknowledge- is desperate for his approval.

“Well,” Taehyung whispers. His fingers gently pry the blunt out of my grip. “You might as well do it right.”

He holds the blunt in front of him, the tip facing his body. Wisps of smoke trail off from the end. I watch, transfixed, as they curl around his face.

“Come here,” he whispers.

As if in a trance, I crawl up the bed until I’m sitting on my knees in front of him.

“Inhale, and pull it down to your chest. Hold it there for a few moments, and then let go.”

I lean down until my mouth is level with the blunt. Taehyung’s eyes darken as he watches my lips wrap around the tip. Our gazes meet as I blink up at him. There is an aching, heady feeling in my stomach as I take in the intensity in his eyes, the way his tongue slides over his lips.

Desire shoots through his stare as he watches me inhale. This time, I don’t choke on the smoke.

“Better.” Taehyung pulls me even closer, so that I am straddling his lap. He is still damp from his run; the faint scent of sweat hangs on his skin. My bare thighs press against his hips. He takes another drag from his blunt. His eyes are locked onto mine. I look down in embarrassment, but the sight below his face is even more erse- a broad chest, defined abs, old scars slashing through his skin that remind me of how dangerous he is.

Taehyung’s hand encircles my neck, holding me in place but not tight enough to cut off my airflow. He holds the blunt to my lips.

“Again,” he commands.

The heat in my core grows even stronger. The room shakes with roaring thunder as rain continues to beat the windows outside. My hands rest on his legs as I comply with his order, inhaling deeply once more. When his firm quads, hard and muscled from years of lacrosse and magical training, flex under me, I ing see stars.

“You must hate this so much.” There is no humor in Taehyung’s laugh- it is vindictive, cruel. “You hate me so much, but you still want me.”

“I don’t,” I say, but my voice is so breathy and high it does nothing but make his smirk grow wider.

“Then why are you sitting on my lap trying to act like a big girl?”

White-hot lust tears through my body, a jagged streak as shocking as the lightning outside. Every muscle in my body is tense, ready to spring away from him, but something about his potent gaze, the way he’s holding my neck, his apathetic tone- they’re all hypnotizing.

“I missed you.” The confession tears from my mouth and I instantly wish I could take it back.

Taehyung’s face is impassive. If I was looking for forgiveness, it’s not there. “I thought you wished I was dead.”

“No. I’m sorry. I wish I’d never said that.”

My head is starting to feel light, a disconnected galaxy of one-off thoughts and emotions and questions. Like I’ve packed everything in my mind into a bath bomb and let it explode. Things are swirling around in a kaleidoscope of neon pinks and creamy blues and vibrants greens. My awareness of Taehyung sharpens and fades simultaneously.

He lowers his face to mine- so close that I can feel his breath on my lips.

“I don’t get high for myself, either,” he utters. “It’s because of you.”

My breath catches in my throat. I look up at him with wide eyes.

“I hate thinking about you,” he tells me quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate how much I care about you. You’ve wasted away over the last year. I hate how- pissed at myself I feel.”

“I’m sorry, Tae,” I repeat, my voice so soft I can barely hear it.

He cups my cheek with his hand, rubbing his fingers in circles over my skin. The sensation of body on mine feels so heightened- , this must be what being high feels like. A prickling feeling crawls up my skin and all of a sudden my breath is beginning to feel too heavy in my throat.

“I wanna lie down,” I mumble.

Something softens in his half-lidded eyes. He gently rolls me off his lap and onto his pillows. A hum of contentment leaves me as I feel a downy comforter being placed on me.

“Her first time being high,” Taehyung chuckles. His fingers weave lazy circles in my hair. “Maybe next time you can take more than two hits.”

“No next time,” I respond groggily.

“Shh. Just relax, Joo.”

And then I slowly drift off.