Dear Addiction

Chapter thirty one

Trigger warning: drug use

"You shouldn't have fuckin' brought Azazel with us," Dean grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked down to Lee who was crouched on the floor, preparing them each a needle, though the other didn't look up. "He's just tryin' to get me fired."

"He wasn't taking no for an answer," Lee said.

Dean didn't reply, instead leaning against the basement wall, glancing around the darkened room. They were the only ones there, the rest of the room filled mostly by boxes, with the exception of an old arcade machine pushed in the corner. It was quiet, the only sound ebing their breathing and the distant sound of the raves music from above.

They'd just arrived from the music festival, minutes before, accompanied by Azazel much to Dean's annoyance. Of course as Lee had promised, they were quick to lose him, and make their way to the basement. Away from anyone sober enough to realize what they were doing.

"Here." Dean looked back down, his eyes glancing to Lee for only a second, before wondering to synrge he offered. Clear liquid filled it, swirling slightly as Dean took it in his own hand. "You know,"  Lee began, "I've got some heroin, we could have some fun."

"I told you," Dean brought the needle to see his forearm, "I'm not stopping you from tryin'."

"And I told you that's lonely."

Dean gazed across the skin of his forearm, blue veins clear against his pale skin, standing out clearly. The tip of the needle rested against the most visible vein, yet to break skin, cold against Dean's raising temperature.

A breath parted his lips, and he pushed the needle in, his fingers going to plunger. The plastic was smooth to the touch, another breath parting his lips as he slowly pulled it out, blood filling the needle. Then another breath before he pushed it down.

The night quickly became a blur of drugs and alcohol. Spent jumping between the basement and dance floor, with occasional breaks at the bar, to grab a drink or two. Singing and dancing, pressed to some girl, then being dragged around by Lee. The night spiralled into a mix of euphoria, and joy, the problems from early long forgotten.

It was sometime after his tenth dose when him and Lee ended up at the bar. Both slumped over the counter, waiting for their drinks, exhausted as the high wore off.

With his elbows on the counters, Dean covered his face with his hands. Squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the spinning , though it did nothing, the music was too loud, blaring through his head. The lights too bright even with his eyes shut.

"You two sem to be having fun." Dean raised his head, even if he knew who'd spoken. He could recognize Azazel's cocky, mocking tone anywhere.

The other man had taken a seat next to Dean, a smirk across his face, eyes darting Dean. Surely enjoying his hung over, withdrawn state, that left him almost too exhausted to speak. Just five more minutes. That's what Dean had continuously told himself, five more minutes and they'd have their drinks, and be back in the basement. Five more minutes, though those five minutes seemed to drag on, ticking by as slow as possible.

"Fuck," Dean spat, with as much despite as he could muster, though even to himself it sounded more exhausted then anything. "Off."

"And miss out on this show?" Dean sent him a glare, though Azazel's smile only widend. "Does Richard know?"

Dean only clenched his jaw, blood boiling. He looked forward, eyes staying on the rows of alcohol that lined the bars' walls. five more minutes. Five more minutes, and he'd be high. Five more minutes, and everything would be okay.