Powder [phan]

I

WARNING: MENTION OF STRAIGHT SEX, DRUGS, DRUG USE, DEPRESSION

Phil's POV

"Love me some good party!" Dan announced with a big grin on his face as we were on our way to an event at some club in London again.

"I think you could cut back a bit on all these parties, Dan." I replied, looking bored out of the back window of the car. I knew he wasn't listening to me anyway, but you could at least try. It's not that I don't like to party myself, but for him life seemed to be just one party lately. It was a long time ago since the last morning I didn't see him hungover, and frankly, I was a little worried.

"Don't be so boring, Philly. As if you're not the first to get drunk tonight."

I ignored him, at least I tried. This had been going on for months and he didn't listen to me.

"I just don't know if that's so good for you." I mumbled softly, hoping somewhere that he didn't hear me. In fact, at first it seemed to me that he hadn't heard me or ignored me, whatever he liked more, but after a minute he slowly turned to me so we could look at each other.

"I'm fine, Phil. Don't worry. I am young and have discovered party life, what is wrong about that. I like parties." He said softly. He kept saying that he only liked parties and I had stopped believing him weeks ago.

But I didn't want to have this discussion, not when we were sitting in a car and the mood was already tense anyway. So I just smiled slightly at him and nodded, whereupon he turned around and talked to Oliver. How could Oliver believe him?

When we arrived at the party half an hour later, we were still together at first, sitting at the bar until Dan disappeared and never came back. Whatever he was doing again.

Dan's POV

I quickly had a few drinks and the mood relaxed.

That was what I had been waiting for all day. Boring talk, pretty, attractive party guests, alcohol. I knew how this evening would end and that was what I lived for. At least at the time. Since I noticed that it helps. That it makes everything easier and better. That it was the only thing that made me forget.

So I spotted my object of desire, a brunette, well-proportioned young woman I had seen somewhere before. Took the last sip from my glass, which burned in my throat, left this inner warmth in me and gave me the courage to approach her, to speak to her.

I knew exactly which buttons to push. Which cards I had to play.

And this card worked again and again, because shortly afterwards we were in a little storage room. When I was about to close the zipper of my pants, I noticed how she jumped from the small wooden table and gave me a small piece of paper with her number on it. I accepted it, smiled, she winked. When she disappeared from the room, I threw the note into the garbage can, whereupon I left the room.

It was almost too easy now, almost boring. Always the same stitch and every fucking time it worked if you only chose the right women. They didn't have to be the smartest, as long as they managed to distract me for the night.

The most important thing was that someone was there when the foggy state stopped. That she was distracting me from reality.

How long would it take before I needed more to escape the pain. The question was answered quickly when I noticed how nausea rose in me. Not just a little, no, my stomach literally turned. This bad feeling had been there all along, but I had suppressed it, simply banished it to my subconscious, from which it now freed itself with double force.

I couldn't move, I was frozen, my reactions slowed down as if I were paralyzed. My vision blurred, made me feel dizzy and I closed my eyes.

Shortly afterwards, I carefully opened them again, staring at my arms, which I slowly raised, they were heavy, like stones. My hands were shaking. Again, only stronger than before. I knew what that meant.