“you’re bad for me..” chris murmured. his doe eyes set on the visual of you slowly exhaling a puff of smoke you inhaled from the joint you wrapped last night.

chris was a practical angel. you could've sworn he was a literal heaven-sent person, wanting to do good almost all the time, like he never had a negative thought run through his mind.

he was younger than you by a year—you being a junior, and he a sophomore. normally you'd never even hang around guys like chris, finding them boring and overly annoying to talk to—but something about him made you want to put him in a box so the outside world didn't hurt him.

you were polar opposites. you grew up as a known troubled kid. breaking rules, getting suspended almost every other week—people couldn't even count how many times you got caught getting high in one of the stalls in the bathroom at school. meanwhile, chris wasn't like any other kids at your school. he didn't attend parties, he couldn't lie without his hands shaking, he didn't even know what weed even looked like—then you forced yourself into his bubble.

chris's family hated you. you were their nightmare, which was why he was supposed to be avoiding you after the church school he went to got shut down and he had to be transferred to public school.

he knew he was supposed to stay away from you. you knew he was supposed to stay away from you—curiosity killed that cat. maybe it was because he was sheltered his entire life, or the fact he secretly loved the way you'd care for him without trying, but something about you was so enticing, that he was addicted to your attention, feeling withdrawals if you weren't their to give him it.