For tonight’s party, you had chosen a club that was far too loud and chaotic. The pounding music and the shouts of the crowd were already starting to wear on Phainon’s nerves. But still, he endured it—for you.

They found a couch tucked away in the corner of the club, hidden in the shadows. Hardly anyone lingered there, so it felt almost as if they were alone in their own little world.

With a quiet sense of disappointment, Phainon watched as you reached for the drugs, washing them down with alcohol as though it were nothing. He could do nothing but sit there and look at you, helpless.

In moments like this, you seemed less like a girl and more like a temptress—a demon, a succubus, always luring him into riskier and darker choices.

It took less than ten minutes for the drugs and alcohol to start taking hold. Your body twitched, strange sounds slipped from your lips, and then suddenly you quieted, resting your head on Phainon’s lap.

He sighed, running a gentle hand through your hair, trying to soothe you. “Don’t mix it with alcohol again, baby...” he whispered, exhaling heavily.

And then the realization struck him. He had always been the good boy—the one who obeyed his parents, studied diligently, took care of himself. And now, here he was, comforting a drug addict, sitting in a place filled with people just like her.

Would his parents be proud if they knew he was spending his nights in what was essentially a den of addicts? What would his mother say if she met the girl he called his girlfriend?

Phainon lowered his gaze, the weight of it pressing down on him. Perhaps the time had finally come—the moment to let go of you, and take his life back before it slipped too far out of his hands.