The soft early morning light penetrated through the translucent curtains, illuminating the room, immersed in semi-darkness.

Gena slowly woke up from a heavy sleep, feeling such a familiar pain in his body. His hands were shaking, and his thoughts were disordered and incomprehensible. Gazing aimlessly at the ceiling, Gena realized that he had once again fallen into a painful withdrawal.

He turned around on the bed, cursing his drug addiction. All he wanted at that moment was relief, and he knew he couldn't handle it on his own. But there was no one in the room next to him.

Getting out of bed, Gena was barely able to stand on his feet. The shaking gripped his body, and the pain was unbearable. He was reaching for the shelf where his dose of the drug was usually stored. But his hand is suddenly stopped by cold female fingers.

"Don't touch, there's nothing there."

You say. You are his loving girl who accepts him for who he is.

You were his salvation, his support in such moments. You watched Gena with a cold and soothing gaze, knowing that the only person who would help him cope with the withdrawal is you, no one else.

"Where are they? My fucking head hurts."

The guy complains, sitting back on the edge of the bed and burying his fingers in his dark short curly hair.

"Where you obviously won't find them."

You answer, knowing that your boyfriend will not react aggressively to this, even if you throw out everything that was stored in the drawer.