Innocence to Experience.

If you knew no better, you would assume that somebody had died. My posture was slackened, my body feeling weak and brittle. The brightness that lived within my eyes had fallen like Lucifer, and dark bags began to stand out underneath. I spoke rarely, and most of the time I only spoke because I felt it was rude to ignore the people who wished to talk to me. It wasn't their faults that my dearest friend seemed deceased.

Oli, of course, was over almost all the time. He'd be there when I needed someone to confide in and cling on to, and he barely left my home. Regularly, that would have annoyed me, but my emotions left me wanting.

"Aren’t you supposed to go back to England one day?" I'd ask, to which he'd respond, "When needed be."

To imagine I'd only known this boy for a few weeks.

"I want to... do that... again." I spoke up, looking over at him. Once our eyes connected, I stiffened and turned to look back at the colorful television screen. Oli spoke no words. Once a few minutes had passed my stomach started to grow nervous in his silence; it turned sickly. He was staring, concentrated on the floor ahead of his blank gaze.

"Will it make you happy?" He asked. My eyes stared into his hazel orbs, pleading with him to let me feel free once more. I nodded, but barely. I was too hollow to do much.

Oli nodded, grabbing my hand and pulling me out the door. The air was dry that day, and the sun was still high on the horizon. It was a little past noon, so the giant ball of gas and fire stood seamlessly still directly above everything. The sun was just a bright, gigantic star that loomed over us, whether someone found that comforting, or chilling.

We did not stop to talk to anyone; we barely stopped to take off our shoes. Oli led me up the empty staircase and dragged me into a room farthest down the hall. Once we entered I walked off towards his bed to make myself comfortable as he shuffled through his drawers. I watched him, eyeing every move he made thoughtfully.

Out came a bag, and a small glass pipe. It looked different compared to a regular pipe used for smoking tobacco long ago. It was clearly made of glass, an inch and a half long pipe connecting to a small rounded bowl. The glass was decorated with swirls of different colors. I noticed a small hole on one of the sides.

Oli walked towards me, letting himself fall on the bed on me left. I turned to look at him, watching as he placed pieces of the plant in the bowl and bringing out a lighter. I watched him inhale once, exhale, and breathe the smoke in once more before he handed it over to me.

"Cover the hole." He instructed me. I nodded.

Five minutes later I was sprawled on his bed, staring at his shirt. It had no design, no real interesting label on it. It was plain, a white, a v-neck much like one he wore the first time he came to my home. We both lay on our sides facing each other, yet we both found greater interest in things that weren't the other. The bag had been sealed and put off to the side, along with the pipe, but the lighter lay in-between us, forgotten.

I was once again, in a different world. My thoughts contained nothing very relevant that would be interesting to any other mind then my own. It was then I realized that when I talked to myself in thought, my words were much slower, not as fast paced as usual.

I also noticed that not one thought contained my best friend.

"Oli, your sheets are dark red, almost like blood." It was obvious enough the fact that I chose to point out, but in the state I had entered, nothing seemed too obvious.

"That it is."

"Why? Did you kill people with it? Is it stained with their blood?"

"No...maybe." Oli grinned over at me, tugging the sheets and throwing them over my face. I squealed and squirmed around pleading for freedom, but it was all a fun game. I truly didn't mind hearing Oli's laughter through the sheets. His body wasn't heavy enough to hurt me, and I wasn't actually suffocating. He barely held the fabric at the sides of my head, and if I wanted I could easily have pulled them down.

My fingers pinched the bedding and pulled it down to my neck. Oli's body flopped down on me, making himself comfortable on my stomach.

I had to admit that I did like how he treated me, touched me. I was safe with him around, he would save me. He was always there. He made me feel good and did all he could to make me feel better. In no way could he bring anything evil upon me, although at the time I had no idea what the drug use would one day bring.
I loved the feelings he gave me when he held me...

"Why do I feel such an... attachment to you Oli?" My voiced seemed innocent, like a young child. Truthfully, I did not understand those feelings. At the time I'd never felt anything of the sort. But now I was being overwhelmed with feelings of attachment and non-sexual lust. I lusted to feel his presence, always.

"I always want you around me. I love when you hold me...I love how you make me feel better." I continued. Oli shifted so he could look at my face. A small joyful smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his arms raising him up so he could hover above my face. His eyes flickered between my own and my nose. The smile grew larger and larger.

A first kiss is always something one wants to be special; this was nothing I had ever planned, in a good way. Oli pulled away quietly, still smiling. He hovered above my face longer. My own lips curved up to smile.

"Because you're totally hot for me!" He exclaimed. I immediately burst into giggles.

"It's possible..." I spoke up. He squirmed back down so his head could rest against my stomach as a pillow. His arms wrapped around my lower back.

I wanted to stay there forever, but I should never want. I never get all I want. No one does.