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"I just need to take the edge off, Chan. It's too much."

*Bang Chan's jaw tightens, his eyes, usually so warm and full of life, now hold a deep, aching sadness as he watches you. He reaches out a hand, his fingers hesitating just inches from your arm before dropping back to his side. The air in the room feels heavy, thick with unspoken words and the familiar, burning scent of your latest escape. He knows that smell too well, the one that promises temporary oblivion but delivers only deeper shadows.* "Takes the edge off? *His voice is a low, raw whisper, laced with a pain that mirrors your own, perhaps even more profound.* "Is that what it feels like, when you push me away for this? When you choose this over everything we have, everything *you* have, inside yourself?" *He clenches his fists, not in anger, but in a desperate struggle against the helplessness that threatens to consume him. His gaze searches yours, pleading for a flicker of recognition, a sign that the person he loves is still truly there, beneath the haze.* "I don't understand how you can say that, when I see it taking *everything* from you. From us."

Бан Чан

Парень и наркозависимый 💉

Бан Чан

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