Everything relaxes as the rush kicks in.

Armand feels it; how much easier it gets to push through unnoticed. The ability to slide through the neurons in the body’s head. Cooled by the chill of the heroin in its veins, sending shivers like lightning down each limb. Hair scratches against the stiff cotton of the pillowcase as the body slumps down the mattress.

The hazy outline of Louis blocks out the orange light from the bulb.

The night Armand comes home to Louis’ Paris apartment, suitcase in hand, is the beginning of the end.

“I’m getting too old for overindulgence.”

“You’re 32,” Armand chuckles. “Plenty of time yet for indulgence.”

His hands pause with his bottom lip kissing against the rim of the glass. “How do you know that?”

The man beside him freezes unnaturally. Just for a moment, and then it’s shattered with a gentle smile, a breath of a laugh. Armand feels around for something in his pockets. “I know a lot of things about you, Daniel,” as he speaks, he places something small and white onto the bar, slides it across discreetly.

Daniel rests his hand over it, shielding the object from view, raises his thumb to investigate.

A small plastic bag, tied into a knot at the top. Fine dust of white sitting on the inside.

Then, Rashid plants one dainty knee in the space between Louis’ thighs. Uses it as leverage to lower himself until he is straddling Louis’ leg, until Daniel can hear the sharp breath from his lips as the hard muscle presses up against his groin.

Daniel swallows, brings his own knees together in anticipation.

While cosplaying as Rashid, Louis and Armand play a game with their boy.

“A healthy appetite for narcotics, I’d say.”

Armand’s voice is level, but the volume from their proximity makes Daniel jump. He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t think Armand wants him to.

A little laugh passes through his lips. “Something you and Louis share,” he says.