"You can't stop on your own." Dylan replied, his voice thick. His fingers curled over the edge of the kitchen table and his nails dug into the top surface. He was scared, not because he was already feeling the pain of withdrawal but because he knew it would come and he knew that when it did come, it would be terrible. But at the same time, he could take it, he was sick but he'd been doing better, lately, and his body was younger and stronger than Dave's. "You won't be able to handle it, if I'm asking you to quit and you know I'm still using, so-" He felt a hard twist in the pit of his stomach. "I'm stopping now." His brows furrowed, "I'm not going to make you, but you should know that I'm doing this for you. It is possible, and I'm going to show you that."