You're Gone

It's easy to feel like shit when you're on drugs, so waking up on some days and feeling completely bogged down wasn't anything abnormal. Oliver was having one of those days. He had been up puking all night and I had been up with him, rubbing his back as his face hung in the toilet and keeping a cold compress on his forehead as he leaned against the wall. Somehow we eventually fell asleep against that wall and when I finally woke up the next morning (or afternoon, I wasn't really sure), there was a dull ache in my back. I was sure Oliver's body was aching just as bad as mine so I carefully woke him and then assisted him to our bed.

Once he was soundly sleeping in the sheets I showered hoping the hot water would loosen my muscles and relieve my aches. The shower worked to no avail but I popped an aspirin and got dressed anyway. I made sure there was a bowl next to the bed incase Oliver puked again and then left the flat quickly.

I had decided to be semi-productive and go food shopping, but it proved to be harder than I thought when I realized I didn't have any drugs in my system. Being addicted was just as hard as it was easy. It was hard because you came to depend on drugs to get to through even the smallest of situations, and at time it got tiring. But it was easy because for the most part that problem was the only one you had to deal with. Well, at least for me. I knew I was pretty fortunate to still have friendships and somewhere to sleep while most of the other drug addicts I knew were barely hanging onto the life they once knew.

So after I purchased a fairly decent amount of food I sent a text to Oli and I's drug dealer, Tiny, and met up with him downtown to buy two bags of meth. And then once I decided I had been productive enough for one day I walked back to the flat to find Oliver laid out on his stomach lazily watching TV.

"Where were yeh?" He asked when he heard the door open. He briefly looked over to me and once he saw the bags hanging in my hands he slowly pushed himself to his feet and walked over to help me bring them to the kitchen.

"Shoppin'," I answered as if he hadn't already pieced that together. We unloaded the groceries together in mostly silence. Once we were done I threw the two small baggies on the table and Oliver looked up at me with hollow eyes.

"I don't fhink I'm in tha mood," he said blandly.

"What's tha matter?" I asked, taking a few steps towards him. I placed my hands on his arm and nuzzled my nose into his chest. He looked down at me and flashed a small smile at the affection, leaning down to kiss me softly before answering my question.

"I jus' feel like proper shit," he answered honestly. "I 'aven't stopped pukin' an' I jus' wanna try an' get somefhing down so I'm not jus' pukin' up stomach bile."

I grimaced slightly at his words, but nodded even though I didn't really understand. If I had been in his shoes I would have just done more drugs to numb the pain of being sick. It baffled me that he thought differently.

"Yeh probably feel all achy too, yeah?" I asked, rubbing his back softly as he stood next to me.

"My neck hurts a little, yeah," he said rubbing said body part. "Why do yeh ask?"

"My back hurts from sleepin' against tha' wall las' night," I replied. "I figured yeh probably felt tha same."

"Sorta," he shrugged.

"Well yeh go lay down and I'll make yeh somefhing, yeah?" I asked. "'re yeh sure yeh don't want any stuff?"

"Yeah," he gave me a short nod and then turned around to walk back towards the main room. "Fhanks, by tha way," he yelled over his shoulder.

I shot up before I made him anything. Which wouldn't make sense to anyone but a drug addict. If I hadn't shot up my shaking hands would have surely caused some serious damage. So after I had cleaned up all of the meth from the counter I placed it under the floor boards where we kept most of our drugs and then I went back to the kitchen and made vegetable stir fry. It was the most simple vegetarian recipe I knew and one of the only meals I knew I made well. I brought Oliver out a plate with a small capful of Pepto Bismol to help with his stomach. We ate in silence, some silly game show the only background noise.

When Oliver finished eating he placed his plate on the ground next to our mattress and laid down on his back, his hands tucked behind his head. I frowned at his lethargic nature and followed his suit, curling up next to him and placing my chin on his chest. I kissed the hollow of his throat softly and only then did he let one of his hands find its way to the small of my back. He pushed his hand up the sweater I was wearing and let his colorful fingers dance around my bare skin as he traced my spine carefully.

"I love yeh," he spoke softly. My eyes snapped open as I stared at him, but I found his eyes were closed. He looked peaceful; one arm behind his head and the other moving up and down my back slowly. "Yeh know that, righ'?" He asked quietly, his eyes opening as he looked down at me with furrowed brows.

I bit my lip softly, suppressing a smile that appeared anyway and nodded. "I," I began, cutting myself off quickly before scooting closer to his face. "I love yeh too," I finished, my voice whispering as I looked directly into his honey eyes. He didn't respond, but I wasn't worried; the look in his eyes said it all. He leaned down at kissed me softly then, and it was much different than any of our other kisses. Because this time lust wasn't fueling us, it was all love now.

"Nofhing will ever change that Tris, okay?"

"Okay," I grinned.

Not even drugs could compare to the feeling I got when he kissed me again. And all I thought of as we slowly undressed each other on that dirty mattress was I love you, I love you, I love you.

I never wanted that feeling to fade.