Benevolence

Chapter 1: Awakening to Limbo

Present...

In one smooth exhale, a cloud of grey smoke escapes my lips and swirls before me; the cheap disco ball, hanging high above the room of staggering bodies, yielding it into the darkest hues of reds and blues; such vivid colors reflecting off the peaks of my cheeks, whispering sacred words of life after death...The world never looks the same after you've seen what makes it spin.

"If you could see yourself right now, you'd understand my problem..." His fingers push through the coiled hairs at the nape of my neck. "You're dangerous, Alaina."

I smile lazily, watching the smoke materialize over the face of a boy with freckled tawny-brown skin and fiery brown eyes. His fingers are featherlight as they trail the base of my back, and his breaths are soft as they tease against the surface of my lips. We're faded, warped by a need to sedate our fears, as scene after scene unfolds within the dimly-lit basement.

Some are glued to one another, swallowing each-other whole in a dangerously enthralling exchange. Some are sprawled out on the black couches positioned in each corner of the room, drowning their sorrows the only way they know best. And others are up, swaying and spinning giddily to the familiar cries of rhythm and blues, lost to whatever world the drugs have transported them to.

To our right, the creaky wooden stairs that lead up into the unknown parts of the house are blocked off by a few burly men who are drunk off their asses: Some mumbling incoherently to themselves, while others lean their heads against the wall, losing their fight against consciousness. And a select few, are hunched over a large glass table, licking at, or rolling up the catalyst to their wildest and darkest fantasies.

David's basement isn't for the meek, but time and time again I'd find myself here, snuggled up against the only person I presumed to care for more than myself. He... he's my everything.

"Drew..." I speak softly, tracing the line of his jaw. "You only say that when you're high."

"That's the only time I'm allowed to see it," he says, peering up at me under heavy lids. His thumb rubs soothing circles onto my waist as I sit straddling his lap.

"You're crazy," I say with a self-effacing laugh.

It's been a gruesome six months following the crash. The first three, I spent in and out of rehabilitation centers, pretending to be grateful for my second chance at life. But even as I excelled at putting on a great show, by night I was barely recognizable, drunk and aggressive...mad at the world. I grew so obsessed over the storm that wrecked my life, I became it. That was--before I met Him. We aren't perfect--Drew and I, but we make things work. A sunken sigh wafts past my lips, my hands trailing up and around his neck. I figured the only way to move one was to become a brand new person altogether. And Drew, whether he's aware of it or not, he keeps me grounded in that ideology.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts, watching without seeing my surroundings, I don't notice him silently assessing me until his hand comes up to push away the hair that had fallen over my eye. "Angel..."

"...Hm?" I hum distractedly, leaning into his hand.

"You're thinkin' too much," he acknowledges, using one crooked finger to tilt my face towards his own. "Just relax..." he says, soothing me with a lingering kiss.

"I am relaxed," I mutter against his lips.

"Oh, word?" he whispers, his mouth tilting up into a smirk. "Well, we obviously got two different takes on that feelin'..." Without losing my eyes, he takes another hit; the tail end of the blunt igniting between us, before seizing me in another captivating kiss. We're encased by smoke, enamored of it. His lips pressing before parting to nibble and bite... all while he exhales.