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So Van was finally on tour. It was three days in and it already felt like months had gone by. The whole departure had been somewhat painful, and the thought of it still hadn't really left Van's mind.
Hitomi had been okay with it, or so it seemed, maybe she just hid it well. Dylan, on the other hand, had been a mess; he hadn't wanted to let Van go at all because he knew he was going away for a while. Hitomi had tried to calm him down to not make a big issue of things but the more she tried to calm him down the more he would cry. The fact that Dylan was crying had made her more upset, she was more used to Van going but she still didn't want him gone that long.
Van hadn't been able to rid himself of the sound of Dylan crying, and Hitomi's face as she waved goodbye to him from outside the bus. It was a surreal experience, leaving for a tour or anything had never been that sad. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that he was now a father and husband, as opposed to just having a girlfriend.
Folken had adjusted well, since he had never stayed anywhere or with anyone long enough to get attached he was doing just fine. Allen and Gaddes were thrilled to be on the road again, they had been thrilled to go on tour since the moment they left the last one. That was the thing, it wasn't as if Van didn't love his music, it was one of the most important things in his life. Music was something that made Van unconditionally happy, but so did Hitomi and Dylan, and he didn't want to have one without the other.
Since they had already played their first gig the previous night, they were able to go out and party in the town. Van didn't like the fact that he was doing something that would normally make him happy, and he was disgruntled. Letting out a sigh he sat up properly on his bed and took out a joint from his pocket.
He had rolled a few a couple hours earlier so they were still pretty fresh. He hadn't bothered making a filter, he didn't see a point in it. He was already smoking something a filter wasn't going to protect him. Quickly he lit it and walked out of the hotel room to find Allen and Gaddes, if Folken was with them it would be a bonus.
"Hey man," Gaddes greeted from just outside in the parking lot.
Van muffled a 'hey' with the joint between his lips.
"Smoking up early little brother," Folken noticed.
Van shrugged, and shoved his hand in his pocket while he took a toke from the joint.
"It's three o'clock, it's not that early," Van stated, offering the joint, which Folken gladly accepted.
"You're a bad father Vanny," Folken laughed before taking a toke.
"It's not like he's seen me smoke up... he's only smelled it," Van protested lamely.
Folken looked at him, "and that's better?"
Van shrugged.
"Have you talked to them since you left?" Gaddes asked taking the joint from Folken.
Van nodded, "yeah, this morning."
"How are they?"
"Good, they sounded a lot better than they did when I was leaving... Dylan was still a little upset when he heard me on the phone... he kept asking when I was coming home." Van said.
"Well at least you know they love you," Folken said, taking the joint back.
"Hey, hey hey it's my joint I want a toke," Van said taking the joint.
"hey...Hey guys... if Allen were here... he'd be making us pet his hair!" Gaddes giggled.
"Oh shit, he's right, hide from Allen!" Van exclaimed, finally feeling the effects of the THC, and so thankful for it.
"That's silly," Folken assured.
Van and Gaddes made faces at Folken mocking his previous statement.
"Come on girls, you want to get high, I've got some real drugs for you," Folken said, as he brought them into the to the hotel room locking the door behind him.
Van and Gaddes had started play fighting, which felt really cool but looked like they were preteen girls trying to play with each other's hair. All the while they were unable to stop laughing.
"Guys!" Folken ordered, "stop being Douches."
Van and Gaddes only continued to laugh.
"Fuck, that is some good pot, I've never gotten high off of one joint before," Van laughed.
"Fuck! I'm a light weight man!" Gaddes cried as he ran around in a little circle.
Van only continued to laugh as his friend provided him with all the entertainment he needed. Meanwhile Folken had taken a seat at the small round coffee table and pulled out a little plastic back with a white powder in it. He had been silent the entire time until he was finished.
"Van, come here," Folken ordered.
Van obliged his brother and sat down in the seat on the other side of the table, and looked down at the four white lines in front of him. Several emotions flickered across his face as he stared at the lines of powder and back up at his brother's face. Gaddes had already come to the floor and fallen asleep, so all that really remained were the two brothers.
"You know what it is right?" Folken asked after a moment of silence.
Van nodded.
"Do a line," Folken said slyly.
Van was hesitant, just because he was high didn't mean that he was unable to remember the past events with Heroin.
"I've already done Heroin... why should I do cocaine?" Van said simply.
"It's so much better," Folken told him, "this is good stuff, you know when I said I was in Israel, well I left after a week and went to Columbia."
"So this is the real deal..." Van mused.
Folken nodded, "do it, I know you want to."
It was true, even if Van had been sober he would have wanted to try it. Cocaine was what the rich people did, it was one of those drugs that was so expensive to get good stuff that it would take more than a month's pay cheque to get a good amount.
"Do you have a straw?" Van asked.
Folken smiled and offered him the thin hollow tube.
--
Van ended up doing three of the four lines, and had completely lost all consciousness. It was as if his memory had been wiped clean and all he could do was follow his impulses. His body hadn't been used to the sensation of cocaine and all he could think of was the incredible rush that it was giving him.
It had only taken him three times to get addicted. He had remained completely unknown, aside from his brother. It had come to the point where he was doing cocaine so regularly that he would have to snort a line between songs when he was performing.
Cocaine was doing wonders for him, or at least he thought. It hadn't registered at all that he hadn't spoken to Hitomi in over two weeks, when he had been into it almost two months. This new experimentationwith cocaine had brought him great artistic genius and process, but his health had begun to dwindle away. He was getting weak and frail, and everyone was becoming aware of it, but Folken or Van was always quick enough to cover it with something.
The worst part of Van's new liking to cocaine was that he found himself wanting to get back into Heroin.
They had reached Salt Lake City, by the third month and it had been going into the fourth week that Van hadn't spoken to Hitomi. It was one of their free nights, and all four of the guys had decided to go to a bar, since Van knew he probably wasn't going to get the chance to snort anything while he was there, he decided to snort four lines before so that he would be decent for a least a while.
The bar was noisey and smokey, it smelled and the atmosphere was dull, but it none of them were in the mood to find anywhere else. Van had been quiet most of the night, while he simply soaked in everything around him, the only time he got up was to go to the bathroom, which had proved to be one of his best ideas.
When he got to the restroom two men walked in, and immediately Van knew they were talking about Heroin from the language they were using. After he was finished he walked to the sink and began washing his hands, and the two men continued to watch him.
Once he was finished he turned to them, and calmly asked, "looking for a buyer?"
Van was finally hooked up with the drug he wanted, that familiar poison that he loved from so long ago. He ended up shooting up twice that night, causing himself extreme euphoria and extreme danger. He ended up leaving before everyone else due to the extreme amount of pain he was in. He had ended up having a slight seizure and an exploding headache, and his stomach felt as though it were being ripped apart in several directions by fish hooks.
He had put on a good show for the rest of the guys, making them think he was leaving out of his own free will, but as soon as he got out the door it was as though he would do anything to put an end to his pain. His head was spinning, he felt like there was a jack hammer perforating his skull. He was ready to die right there in the street, but something wouldn't let him.
When he got to the hotel he took as many pain killers as he could and passed out as soon as his body hit the mattress.
It was a miracle he even woke up.
--
White.
With a little yellow.
Sun. The same wonderful sun that everyone wakes up to. Everything was silent, absolutely nothing was was heard. Time was slowing down if not completely stopped and it seemed that everything else had taken to stillness. Everything had been going so quickly last night and for the months prior that it was a relief to finally have everything stop.
It was cool and temperate, there wasn't much he could make out other than what was directly touching him or in a very close radius. His vision was not good, and his senses seemed numb. He wasn't able to smell anything, or taste anything and his body was so sore that the effort that went into moving was not worth it. Instead he just remained on the bed, in the exact same position that he had entered it; clothes and shoes still on.
He felt moulded to the bed, that in some odd way he was fusing with it. The more he thought about things the more his head hurt, so that was quickly forgotten. Although he wasn't in the best shape he hadn't felt more relaxed in a long time, it was true that the drugs made him feel good, but it was as if he was always trying to keep up with them and there was never any down time. The bed was soft and cozy, he had no desire to get up. He was able to register that his right arm was extended in front of him, and just to test his motor skills he began to play with the folds of the white comforter. It reminded him of little white snow hills... snow- cocaine. It was the thought of snow that made him think of Dylan.
Suddenly his eyes snapped open, it had been so long since he had talked to Hitomi and he was fairly certain that it was almost January, which meant he had missed Dylan's birthday.
"Shit!" he seethed.
With a great effort he rolled over in his bed and extended a hand to the phone and pulled it over so it was on the bed beside him. Miraculously he was able to dial the numbers and soon the phone was ringing.
Hitomi finally answered the phone after four rings. It was clear in her tone of voice that she had rushed to get the phone, "hello?"
"Hey," Van said hoarsely. The sound of his voice surprised him along with her.
"Van? Is that you?" she asked.
He tried to clear his throat but still the hoarseness didn't go away, "yeah."
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Van nodded, "yeah, I'm fine, it was just a crazy concert last night."
"Do you have any idea of what time it is?" she asked a little annoyed.
"No," he said simply.
"Van it's seven o'clock in the morning," she told him.
"Sorry, I just figured I should call you," he said.
"You figured?" she said slightly annoyed.
"I'm sorry I haven't called, I don't have any excuses I-- I'm just sorry," he confessed.
Hitomi wanted to forgive him but at the same time she had gone so many nights without sleep because she had been worrying about him, and didn't feel like it was okay to give him her forgiveness that easily. So instead she stayed silent.
"How is he?" Van asked after a moment.
"He misses you terribly," Hitomi said, "he's sleeping right now... he'd love to talk to you though."
Van bit his lip, he knew she needed to know but he couldn't tell her.
"I do miss you too, you know," she added, "I just don't like it when I'm not important enough for you to remember to call me."
"Hitomi..." he breathed, " how was his birthday?"
"See, that's the thing I'm mad about mainly, I mean I can live without you calling me, you have a life, but when your son is having his first birthday without his father, I'd expect at least a call... and that was a week ago..." she said bitterly.
She had every right to be angry, "I'm sorry--"
"Don't tell me that, tell him... maybe you should call back later," Hitomi suggested.
"I will," he said.
"Bye Van, take care of yourself," she said.
"Hitomi, I love you," he said.
"Bye," she said and hung up. As soon as her receiver clicked she felt immediate regret, she should have said it back to him, and now all she could do was wait.
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