The window seat offered a magnificent view of the sparkling capital. The sea of city lights ended in an abrupt shore a few miles from the base of the mountain. Emmer's busiest avenues stood out like giant, golden sea snakes, winding and crossing each other as if fighting over the myriad gems floating around them. The darker residential neighborhoods stood out in island-like patches from the bright commercial and industrial sections. A single, pitch-black vein - the river Taia - separated a third of the city from the rest before emptying into the ocean where the port of Emmer stood. About two thousand feet above it all, Culver sat leaning against the window, his thoughts as dark as the city was bright.

A hoarse groan drew his attention. "Good evening," he greeted, pressing a button on the small remote in his hand to turn up the lights.

"Oh, crud. I'm here again." Orion Blake sat up slowly, painfully, and immediately dropped his head into his hands.

"That's not what I usually hear from guests I bring into my room." Culver stood up and walked over, taking the liberty to sit on the bed next to Orion. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," Orion sniffed. "Headache."

"The doctor said it would happen." Culver reached for the trolley nearby and spooned a thick brown liquid with a sweet and spicy aroma into a wide mug. "Here," he said, holding it out to Orion. "It'll relieve your sniffing and keep your immunity high."

Orion took it and gave it a cautious sniff. "What is it?"

"The doctor calls it raab. It's an age-old Indian recipe, very good for health. It should help with the headache, too."

A food-lover by nature, Orion had no qualms in tasting the contents of the cup. It was sweet, yet bursting with the heat of pepper and some other ingredient he couldn't place. It felt good on the way down, filling his insides with a comfortable warmth and pampering his taste buds with its sweetness.

"You like it," Culver observed, smiling to himself as a little color returned to his guest's cheeks.

"It's a refreshingly new taste. I'd suggested it to Merwyn at the Memoria if I could."

"Merwyn? As in Merwyn Ezekiel, world-famous chef?"

Orion nodded. "And sous chef at the Memoria. I am the one who roped him in - wrested him right from Bon Vivant's sticky fingers."

Bon Vivant was another large group of luxury hotels, and the age-old feud between the owners of the two enterprises was household talk in Mevinje. "So, you are quite the shrewd businessman, Orion Blake," Culver probed. "What happened?"

"With all due respect, I don't know you well enough to tell you that," Orion rasped, and Culver's shoulders sagged in disappointment, "You may have saved my life -"

"Twice -"

"- and I will forever be indebted to you for that, but we are still strangers."

That cold rejection hurt more than Culver considered reasonable. "You can at least tell me how you came to overdose," he mumbled.

"I overdosed?!"

Culver raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You didn't realize?" he asked. "You almost died. I saw you come out of that bar and grabbed you immediately - no, I wasn't stalking you, don't look at me like that! - and brought you here. It wasn't until I smacked you that I noticed you were burning up and in pain."

Orion turned pale, so pale that Culver feared something had happened to him and rushed to his side. "No...not again," he moaned, crumpling like a matchstick tower. Culver caught him before he could fall sideways off the bed. "Hey, what happened?" asked the former in alarm. "Orion? What's happening to you? Shall I call the doctor?"

"No. No, I'll be fine..." Orion's breathing escalated, and his attempt to remove himself from Culver's arms was nothing but a weak twitch. "I, uh...I can't...I can't breathe. What am I seeing? What's real -"

"Hey, hey, deep breaths! Look at me!" Culver shifted so he was sitting right against Orion's side to support his weight. "Look at me!" he ordered again, more urgently, patting his cheek. "Orion! Slow breaths! Look at me. Look at me."

"Keep...talking...I can't tell...what's real..."

"I am." Culver pulled Orion into a hug and stroked the back of his head. "I am the only reality you can be certain of."

"I can't take it, I want to breathe!"

"Oh, Orion..." Culver pressed the other man even closer. "I'll help you. I'll help you, so look at me, won't you? Orion? Hey."

Culver cupped Orion's face in a vice-tight grip. Resolutely, he locked gazes with him. "I will not allow you to suffer like this. Do as I do," he instructed. He inhaled deeply, and much to his relief, Orion drew in a shaky yet deep breath of his own. He exhaled, and Orion followed. Over and over again he repeated the exercise until Orion sagged against him, calmer and breathing easier.

"I'm sorry," groaned Orion, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry -"

"Don't be. Just rest." Culver drew up the blanket around both of them.

"I've troubled you too..."

"I don't mind. Besides, you're suffering a lot more than I am."

It took about half an hour to get Orion to calm down completely. He remained sunken, however, in a deep depression that Culver could not rouse him from, do what he might. Ultimately, the Prince settled down with his laptop to get some work done while Orion remained curled up on his side, brooding.

"Why are you doing this?" the latter asked presently, his back turned to Culver.

Culver looked up from the report he was reading. "Why am I doing what?"

"Helping me. From what I've seen, your shit personality doesn't accommodate altruism."

"That's exactly why." Culver smiled grimly. "This shit personality isn't me. There came a point in my life where I was so angry with the world I couldn't find it within me to be nice unless I absolutely had to." Absently, he grabbed the ends of a few strands of Orion's hair. "But you...with you, I don't feel so bitter."

"Why?"

"When I first brought you here, you promised me I wouldn't regret trusting you," Culver replied, twirling Orion's light brown locks around his finger. "I must've been high too, taking a druggie's word, but your tone at that time didn't have any space for mistrust."

"I wouldn't tell," said Orion. "Coming out to anyone is a huge gamble. We put our self-respect, our self-worth, our relationships, our identity, our very lives on the line. I know the horror of losing that gamble, so I'd never tell, high or not."

Culver mulled over Orion's words for a long minute. "I want to believe you," he ultimately said. "So quit using."

"That's very selfish of you."

"Yes, it is. I helped you because I wanted to feel good about myself. I want you to quit so your words seem more reliable. So why don't you be selfish too?"

"I don't want anything from you, Culver."

Culver found himself speechless. The renewed rejection didn't sit well with him, and he returned to his reading with a disappointed frown. Two hours ticked away without either of them saying a word. Finally, Orion turned around and jabbed a finger into Culver's hip.

"Yeowch!" Culver grabbed Orion's finger in one hand and pinched it in retaliation. "What gives?"

"You might be a selfish ass," Orion said. "But you're a real curio."

"What?"

"You're a strange one, brazenly admitting that accusation of mine. Most people would get offended."

"Well, if we ever get to become more than acquaintances with a penchant for assault and death threats -"

"Excuse me? That's just you."

"Okay, penchant for assault, death threats and sexually harassing parking meters -"

"Hey!"

"If we ever get to become more than that," Culver said, grinning at Orion's look of indignation, "we will have started with total transparency."

"You have very high expectations from someone who doesn't like you very much," came the dry response.

Culver retorted with an impish smile, but secretly he was glad that Orion had recovered a little of his spirit. "Spend a little more time with me, you'll find I'm actually really likable."

"Sure. You're off to a splendid start."

*

48 hours later

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

Orion received no response to his words, so he contented himself with glaring at the Crown Prince who was busy assembling a Lego Aston Martin DB5. He knew that Culver was trying to keep him busy so he wouldn't feel the craving for cocaine. But if it were that easy, he wouldn't have become addicted in the first place. After all, when he'd first started using regularly, he'd had more pressing worries than the vagaries of royalty.

Culver's genius solution to Orion's drug crash-induced depression and anxiety had been to pull out the box of Legos from a dusty cabinet and to drag his unwilling companion into his walk-in closet for the assembly. "Why the hell are we playing with toy blocks in a closet?" Orion had asked, and received a sharp back-handed slap on his mouth in response. "They're Legos!" Culver had corrected with all the arrogance of a pedant. "The carpet's comfortable, and nobody will disturb me here." "You and your slapping!" Orion had snapped viciously before settling into a sulky silence.

He spotted the steering wheel of the car lying right by his foot. As petty revenge, he nicked it. Sure enough, fifteen minutes later he had the satisfaction of watching Culver have a thorough meltdown and crawl about the room on his hands and knees, searching every inch of the carpet. "Where on Earth is it?!" Culver cried. "This is scandal! Larceny! Treason! Murder!"

"Right," Orion drawled lazily, and stretched himself out on the floor. The carpet indeed was comfortable.

"Don't you lie there! Help me look for it!"

"Maybe it got crushed into a thousand million imperceptible pieces." Orion grabbed a pair of socks off the shelf and admired them. "Are these cashmere?"

"My wheel! My steering! I've lost my steering!"

"That would be if you were inside that car, my dear fellow."

"I took it out of the box with these very hands!"

"I really like these socks. Can I have them?"

"You can have all the socks I own if you find me my wheel!"

"Really now. Such a precious item, and all I get for it is socks." Orion sat up slowly, raised his foot and jabbed his big toe into Culver's backside. "Here you go."

Culver's eyes widened as a little black circle rolled across the room to him. Eyes wide as saucers, he looked from the wheel to the smirking Orion and back. He repeated the action once, then twice. He paused.

"You!"

In a single movement, Culver had launched himself off his knees and squashed Orion flat. "Whoa!" Orion huffed. Culver began to rain down a flurry of slaps and tried to pin him to the ground. Orion fought back, and before long, the two men were rolling on the floor, grunting and panting.

The ringing of Culver's phone prompted them to break apart. "Hello?" Culver panted. "Dr. Deo, how are you?"

"Fine, fine. Is Orion with you?"

"Yeah, he'll be with me till he finishes crashing, just like you said."

"Are you two alone?"

"Yes." Culver covered the mouthpiece and turned to Orion. "Hey, do me a favor and lock the door to my room," he instructed.

Orion frowned, thinking Culver was up to one of his antics again. But the look Culver gave him was serious, so he complied without any argument. "Thank you. Sit here," Culver said when Orion returned. "It's the doctor. He wants to talk to both of us."

"It was Dr. Deo who treated me?" Orion whisper-yelled. "I'm ruined! He's a customer!"

"Orion, my boy!" came a jovial shout from Culver's phone. "You doing better now?"

"Um. Yes." Orion cleared his throat in an attempt to remove the persistent hoarseness in his voice. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's alright, son. Just keep working on recovering from your addiction. That's what I called about. I need you to be absolutely honest with me, okay?"

Orion's heart skipped a beat. He had too much on his plate to handle more trouble now. He gave an involuntary shudder, and in spite of himself, cast Culver a nervous glance. But the Prince only smiled gently and placed a supporting hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be alright," he said.

This had better not be an intervention, Orion grumbled internally. "Okay," he said, voice soaked in suspicion.

"What drug have you been using?" asked the doctor.

Extreme shame made Orion bow his head. "Cocaine," he said, hating the very sound of the word.

"Just cocaine? Nothing else?"

"No, nothing else."

"Well, the baggies you received two days ago weren't just cocaine. It was almost three-quarters heroin."

Orion's mind went blank. "I...I don't use heroin," he bleated, his voice weak. "I didn't buy heroin. You have to believe me, I didn't -"

"Hey, hey, he's not accusing you," Culver cut in, pulling Orion into his arms. "It's only so we can help you, alright? It's because what we can do for you changes according to what's in your system."

"He's right," Dr. Deo agreed.

"I've told you I don't want your help!" Orion suddenly snarled, roughly pushing Culver away. "What is your problem! I'm not interested in becoming your pet project!"

"Listen before making a scene!" Culver snapped back, grabbing Orion's shirt to stop him from walking away. "Sit down and let Dr. Deo finish!"

"That overdose would have killed you if Culver hadn't detected it in time," said the doctor. "Now. Did you take a larger dose than usual, Orion?"

"No," Orion growled, still glaring daggers at Culver. "I was sober when I injected the dose. It was the usual dosage, but I do remember remarking that it was acting unusually fast."

"Now listen carefully. A friend of mine is a narcotics cop, and the heroin you consumed seems to have something to do with an investigation of his that went cold. He wants to meet with you as soon as possible."

"I'd rather not," Orion said uneasily. "I'm in enough trouble as it is. I don't want to get involved in this drug business any more than I already am."

"I can help with that," Culver piped in. "I'll provide political clout as required."

"No, thank you," retorted Orion, coldly.

"You don't have a choice, Orion," Dr. Deo coaxed. "You might get addicted to heroin too. The next time something like this happens, you might not be so lucky."

"I can take care of myself."

"No, you cannot. It's implicit in the very definition of addiction. Culver, bring Orion to the Mango Cafe tomorrow at ten. My friend and I will be there. Until then, he stays with you."

"Also, Culver?"

"Yeah?"

"No frisky business with him, alright?"