Julie's hands are very gentle and soft on his - he can see that she's surprised when he doesn't just say no, and she keeps his hand, she squeezes and brushes her fingers over his knuckles, and he can tell she's trying to soften a blow.

When she says 'I know' and asks if he could give her the pills, every fibre of his being rebels, he can feel his temper spark because he knows he should say yes and give them to her and let her flush them or something, but he doesn't want to. He wants to take them. He wants to feel that amazing floating high again, wants to feel happy and comfortable and like nothing hurts and he doesn't have to think or remember. For a moment, he really and truly hates her for asking him that, for putting him in the position where he has to choose what path to take. Because he can feel it, the panicked temper tantrum that's already building up despite the guilt and the knowledge of what the right thing to do is in this situation. Because no matter what he picks, it's going to suck hard, it's a lose-lose situation.

"I don't know." he says, his voice a little tight, his brows furrowed, expression guarded, "I probably could but I don't want to."

He can't speak anymore for a moment, realizes his breath is coming short and shallow and his heart is pounding, his throat feels tight, he feels like he's about to explode.

"Just one hit. I can take one hit and then I'll give the rest to you after, deal?"