FicWad

Patrick awoke the next morning to a faint, sweet smell in the air. He rolled out of bed, forgetting about the cast on his left wrist.
"Ow "
Joe poked a sleepy head out from under his covers;
"'s up?"
"My wrist, I just rolled over it."
"Mmm. Ouch," Joe mumbled, burying his face back into the warm covers, "I think someone is making pancakes." came his now muffled voice.
Patrick grinned and threw a pillow at Joe with his good arm.
"Then get up. You love pancakes."
Joe grunted something incomprehensible and waved at Patrick, signaling him to leave.
"I'll be out ina sec."
Patrick rolled his eyes and left the room. He padded down the hall, and into the kitchen. There, he found Hannah; she looked...sexy, Patrick couldn't help but thinking. Her back was to him; he had a good view of her ass, covered by tight, dark wash skinny jeans. As always, she had on her pink Converse. Hannah sensed his presence, and turned around; she had a spatula in her hand. She was flipping pancakes.
"'Morning, Tricky " she grinned.
Patrick smiled weakly and mumbled a 'good morning', but his eyes were on the very tight black tee-shirt she wore. Her hair was perfect. Patrick mentally slapped himself. Stop it, you loser.
"I'm making everyone pancakes " she said merrily.
Patrick blushed.
"You don't have to..." he mumbled.
Hannah shrugged, and started humming a Greenday song. Patrick sat down at the kitchen table. Hannah was making him feel awkward; she was being so merry. But he knew she must still feel really guilty about what had happened yesterday; this was probably just an act. He wanted to say something reassuring, but he didn't know what.
"Ah, Hannah, about what happened yesterday..." he began.
Some of the color drained from Hannah's face, and she quit humming.
"I'm really sorry, Patrick, it was all my fault." She said quickly, not looking at him.
"No, Hannah, it was an accident. It wasn't your fault at all."
Hannah didn't look like she believed him. The happiness in the air was suddenly gone. Hannah finished what she was doing, and piled the pancakes on a large plate. She set it down on the table.
"Breakfast." She mumbled.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, Patrick grinned.
"No one will hear you if you're that quiet."
Something flickered in Hannah's pale eyes, and a smile crept over her pink lips. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, and screamed at the top of her lungs;
"HEY, LOSERS BREAKFAST "
Patrick laughed, and Hannah grinned. Soon, Joe, Andy, Pete and Mark appeared, all clad in pajamas. Pete kissed Hannah's cheek.
"Thanks, sweetheart."
Everyone sat down to eat, except Hannah.
"Hannah, aren't you going to eat?" Pete asked.
Hannah shook her head.
"I'm not hungry."
Pete frowned, and tried to remember the last time he had seen Hannah eat. Suddenly, the dark circles under her eyes jumped out at him, and her middle looked too skinny for her own good. She didn't look slim; she looked damn near anorexic. Pete decided to temporarily swallow his worry, and continued with breakfast.

Hannah sat on the edge of the couch, bitting her nails. She was shivering; why the hell was it so cold in there? She started trembling. I'm not cold. I need drugs. Her whole body was shaking and shivering, and she was chewing away at her nails. She crossed and uncrossed her legs several times, jingling her foot. She couldn't sit still. Her stomach rumbled, and she felt hunger pangs; Shit, I'm hungry, too. Hannah shook her head, muttering to herself.
"Ah...Hannah?"
Andy had appeared in the doorway, and was watching Hannah's freak show. She yanked her fingers away from her mouth, and smiled shakily.
"Yes, m'dear?"
Andy smiled back nervously.
"Are...ah, are you okay?"
Hannah nodded her head up and down, really fast. She looked hyper. She kept on trembling.
"Are you cold?"
"No." she said. She jumped up, and pushed past Andy and out of site.
Andy did not move; he waited until he was positive she was downstairs. Then he rushed into the kitchen, where he found Pete.
"There is something wrong with Hannah."
Pete looked mildly alarmed.
"What is it?"
"I dunno, man, she was shaking and trembling and she's pale as hell..."
Pete jumped up from the table and rushed out of the room. Andy followed at half the pace; he ran into Patrick in the hall as Pete whooshed past him.
"What's going on?"
"Hannah..." Andy trailed off. He stopped at the top of the stairs, deciding to let Pete handle this. Something about Hannah made him wary. Patrick sighed and shook his head sadly.
"She's a tiger on the outside. But on the inside, she's as vulnerable as a kitten."
Andy threw Patrick a funny and questioning look as Patrick headed downstairs.

"Hannah?" Pete asked softly. Patrick stopped in the hall, not wanting to intrude.
"Mmm?" came her shaky voice.
"Are you alright? Andy says you aren't looking too hot..."
"I'm fine." she whispered.
"You don't look fine, Hannah." Pete sounded slightly tense.
"I'M FINE. Just leave me alone!"
Patrick strained his ears; Pete did not reply. He heard the dull shuffle of his feet, and Pete appeared. He looked at Patrick, and the two said nothing; they just exchanged looks of worry. Pete went back upstairs, but Patrick slowly pushed the door open, and found Hannah. She sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. Her eyes were closed, and she was trembling.
"Hannah?"
"Tricky." Hannah replied. She did not open her eyes.
Patrick crossed the room and sat down next to her, and awkwardly placed his arm around her shoulder.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying."
Hannah covered her face with her hands for several seconds. Then, to Patrick's surprise, she opened her mouth;
"I want drugs. That's what's wrong. And I have some coke."
"Here?"
Hannah nodded.
"Hannah, please don't do that stuff here." Patrick's voice was soft.
Hannah shook her head;
"I don't want to do it here, or anywhere."
Patrick chewed his lip for a moment.
"Then why do you do it at all?"
"Because...you don't seem to get it, Patrick. It's hard to stop. It's like...like starving yourself or...cutting yourself. It's a disease. You know you have to stop, every bone in your body is against it, but you have to do it."
Patrick felt his spine tingle. He did not like that last remark about starving and cutting.