Dust

Regrets (19)

Waking up, Phelan was instantly struck by the unfamiliar ceiling. His mouth felt as though he'd slept with it open and his eyelids kept sticking together. He was in a bed, mostly clothed, briefs saving his dignity. It wasn't a bed he recognised either, and frowning hard, he looked around. Next to him, Feather was just waking up, Marina on the other side of her dead asleep. On Phelan's other side was an equally sedated Robbie. The thought that he might've cheated on Lionel and Bear with any of them had his stomach roiling. But his lips didn't feel chapped and he didn't feel as though he'd been fucked recently. None of the usual places ached.

Sitting up, his stomach churned once again, much more urgently. Phelan legged it out of the room to find a toilet. Yet again, he made it, but it was closer than he was really comfortable with. At this angle though, he recognised the toilet as being the same one he'd made his victim last night. Still at the party house, then.

Finding a spare toothbrush, he used his teeth as tools - not recommended - and pulled it out of the packaging. As he freshened up, he tried not to look at himself too closely. Not at the bags under his eyes nor the chapped skin around his nose and lip. And definitely not making eye contact with himself. He already knew he was disappointed, he didn't need a reflection to tell him that.

Once more feeling as though he was acceptable to be around people, he went back to the room, finding everyone else awake. In his mad dash, he'd not been gentle getting out of the bed and taken the duvet with him. He was also fairly sure he'd kicked someone on his way out, but it wouldn't be his problem until someone called him on it.

They all stared at him, bleary eyed and looking how Phelan still felt: like shit.

"I don't know," he grunted at the questions in their faces.

It was nearly mid afternoon by the time he finished putting his clothes back on and charged his phone. A million missed called waited for him. Five from Bear, six from Lionel, and two from Ronan. There was even one from Alexei. And there were even more text messages glaring his guilt right back at him.

Lionel would definitely be done with work, so Phelan texted Bear that he was alive and safe and that his phone had died at some point. Then he called Lionel.

"Are you okay?" Was the first thing out of Lionel's mouth.

Fey repeated his phone troubles verbally for Lionel. "Sorry, I really don't remember most of what even happened. I woke up in a massive bed with Feather, Robbie, and Marina."

"Fey..." Lionel grumbled. The frustration is his voice did not go unnoticed. "Actually no. Bear is going to pick you up, and I'll see you at home. I love you, I'm just too angry right now."

Angry? "I know I worried you but I don't see why-"

"Please. Fey. Just let me cool off."

"Okay..." he murmured. "I love you." There wasn't anything else he could say.

Lionel sighed. "I love you, too." He hung up.

Gnawing at his lip, Phelan waited outside. Memories of the previous night came back to him in the relative peace of the day as unfamiliar cars drove by, and just as he finished a cigarette, he recalled the moment he'd gone downhill. When Marina had walked in with that little baggy.

And it turned out it wasn't the only one she had. They'd spent most of the remainder of the night alternating between having fun, drinking, and snorting coke off the bathroom counter. So much for getting clean. The withdrawal symptoms had only stopped a few days ago. What if he had to do it all over again? What if he couldn't this time? It had been a struggle the first time around, and he'd had a touch more space between himself and his men. Hiding a second round of withdrawals... Phelan wasn't sure he could do it. If only because they'd notice and ask him about it.