"I'm back to my ways," he whispered to the empty room. He poured a drink, sat on the edge of the unmade bed, and waited for the sun to come up—knowing that when it did, he’d still be in the dark.
He pulled a vial from his pocket, the "codeine cup" long since replaced by harder, colder habits. He was trying to find that feeling again—the one where the world made sense—but all he found was more "money and the fame." The Weeknd - Heartless (Lyrics)
He looked at his hands. They were steady, but they felt heavy. A few years ago, he’d have felt the thrill of the "seven stars" lifestyle, the rush of the paparazzi, and the weight of the gold chains. Now, it was just noise. He had traded his soul for the "low life," and the transaction felt permanent. "Back to the suite?" the driver asked. "I'm back to my ways," he whispered to the empty room
The city didn’t sleep, and neither did Julian. He sat in the back of a blacked-out SUV, the rhythmic thrum of the engine matching the dull ache in his chest. Outside, the Las Vegas Strip was a blur of electric pink and gold—a playground he had conquered long ago, only to realize he was trapped in it. He was trying to find that feeling again—the
As he entered the penthouse, he saw his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows. For a split second, he looked for the person he used to be. But the light hit the glass, and all he saw was a shadow.
He walked through the lobby, past the gamblers and the dreamers, a ghost in a thousand-dollar suit. He was back in his "regime," back to the "middle of the night" where he felt most alive and most dead at the same time.