"Gotta remember." Dylan mumbled, dabbing a fingertip on the crumpled newspaper to pick up the crumbs so that he could eat those, as well. There had been a temptation, in the beginning, to run away (again) and forget all about everything that had happened to him in New York City- he never should have come to such a large urban center to begin with. But as the minutes ticked away, he had realized that Dave's death had made enough of an impact on him that he wouldn't be able to forget. He cared more about Dave than he had about Ryan. That was interesting. He tilted his head up slightly and felt a tingle go down his neck at the sight of the water bottle. In GHB's apartment, there was no way that it actually held water.
His eyes remained fixed on the bottle as he spoke, "It just made me feel warm for a minute and then I fell asleep." That had been the worst night. He ran his tongue over his top row of teeth and then reached to the table for the second sandwich. Taking GHB on a full stomach was a bad idea, but he was still hungry as hell. He continued to speak between bites, "His name's Mac." He said slowly, "He's in a band or something. He- likes me, I guess. I told him no, though, and he listened. But he wants me to stay with him, he's worried about me." He finished the second sandwich, eyes flicking from the bottle to GHB's face and back again. He wanted it, of course he wanted it, but he had an understandable aversion to getting high at the moment.
On the other hand, GHB was right, he had been the one to provide him with all the things he'd had before Dave's death; the apartment, food, and now, somewhere to be. He reached again and lightly brushed his fingertips down the bottle. "I know you can, but I'm afraid."