Fighting Addiction.

"So hun, I do believe I need a hair cut soon." Curtis smiled cutely at me, his head tilting to the side ever-so-slightly. Just enough for his over grown bangs to cover his eyes. I rolled my eyes at him, suppressing a smile.

I'd decided to move to Britain to live with Oli in his home town of Sheffield. Over the two years, I'd gotten a good paying job at a salon just downtown, and I'd bonded greatly with the fools Oli calls his best friends. To be honest, these boys were the best friends any person could ever dream of having. During the hard part of moving countries, they made me smile and giggle. Although I missed my mother like mad, moving was something I believed to be a positive thing in my life.

Out of my peripheral vision I could see brown hair flying and two bodies running in my direction. Kean and Oli slammed into my body, slamming my head into the armrest of the couch. Both boys tumbled off the couch and continued to wrestle. I grimaced, feeling blood trickling down my ear.

I'd just upped a gauge in my earlobe, so this hurt a hell of a lot.

"Sons of a bitch." I mumbled under my breath. I tried to take deep breaths to ignore the pain so I could manage to make it to the bathroom to fix up the mess.

The image in the mirror was not pretty, but it wasn't all that bad. The plugs that I had in my ears were still there, but it looked like the impact of two idiots had pulled a little to hard on the healing stretch. I began the cleaning process, muttering under my breath about the boys every time I felt a sting.

As I placed the plug back in my ear I could see someone standing at the door way. I turned to see Oli looking at me weirdly.

"What happened?"

"You and Kean is what happened."

"What'd we do?"

"Pushed my ear into a hard armrest."

Oli laughed lightly, coming closer to me and lifting my hair away from my left ear. He moved my ear around and looked at it for a moment before declaring it okay.

"I knew that already." Oli laughed once again, going over to the mirror and looking at his spaced ears. They were much larger than mine, but I in no way found it disgusting that you could probably put a pill bottle through his ears. In fact, I found it highly amusing that when he's old and wrinkly, he's gonna have this nasty string of earlobe hanging as well as... certain organs of his body.

I giggled at the thought, earning me another weird stare from Oli.

"What are you thinking?"

"About... nothing." I grinned up at him, taking his hand and leading him back down to the living room. A bag of chips had been opened, and the boys were attacking it fiercely like a pack of wolves.

This was normal, I promise you.

Instead of just backing off and letting them eat it all before I had a chance to get food, I jumped into the pack. Just as I went to grab for a chip, my hand was bitten. I gasped and look at the culprit. Curtis sat back in his seat, sheepishly smiling. I cradled my hand to my chest and glared at him.

"How did you even manage to bite my hand?" Curtis shrugged and sat up. Very slowly he grabbed my hand and turned it around to kiss where he bit.

"What are you two doing?"

"I'm apologizing."

"By kissing her?"

"Who kissed my girlfriend?!"

"He kissed my hand Oli, calm your hormones." Oli looked at me, and then to the hand that Curtis was holding. After finally noticing Oli's stare, Curtis dropped my hand and went off to the kitchen, probably to find more food.

I snorted, finally realizing how stupid the situation was, getting odd stares from all the boys remaining in the room.

We were a big awkward family, and it felt real. Except, I'm pretty sure I'm glad Oli isn't my brother.

Curtis walked back into the living room with a few bangs and thuds. Once he entered he carried a couple bags of chips with a couple bottles of liquor. That mixture was generally a disastrous one, but it's what they liked to do on Friday nights. They weren't like normal people who went out to drink and spend lots of cash. In fact, they were quite cheap, and would rather get the lowest priced objects.

They hadn't thought of the fact that the lower the price, the cheaper the quality.

That's why whenever they decided to drink, I'd run upstairs to grab my booze. Stuff that isn't crap.

So that whole night, I sat back and enjoyed the presence of the five intense englishmen, giggling once I was drunk enough at their strong accents.