A Junkie's Journal

Sixteen

edited (11.11.16)
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Today was the day Tristan was meeting Sam. He didn't get much sleep the night before because of his excitement. He already knew that today would be one of the best days of his life.
After Tristan had taken a shower and gotten dressed, he watched TV for a few hours to make the time pass by faster. Ten minutes before Sam and his friends were about to come, Tristan walked to the resort's entrance gate. The plan was to meet them there, then walk back to the hotel room.
As soon as he saw their car, a huge grin was plastered on his face and he stood up from where he was sitting on the sidewalk. When the driver of the car, Brett, parked, Sam opened his door and ran out to hug Tristan. He couldn't believe it; it seemed so surreal. Sam was alive and breathing, and Tristan was actually, finally touching him. Was he dreaming? He hoped he wasn't.
Once all of Sam's friends had gotten out of the car, Tristan led them back to his hotel room. They went to his bedroom and hung out there. Sam and Tristan were taking a lot of pictures and posting them on their social media pages. Tristan's urge to kiss Sam was making him anxious; what if Sam didn't like kissing him? Tristan was worried about his lack of experience with kissing, and everything associated with it.
He asked Sam to come next to him to take a picture. Tristan held up his phone, the camera facing them, and pecked Sam's lips. He took the picture while they were kissing, and then pulled away from Sam. God, he was probably blushing like an idiot. Their first kiss was a small peck - he was too nervous to make it anything more than that.
Afterwards, Sam, Tristan, and their friends went to the beach together. They had so much fun there; their friends would jump in the ocean even though it was freezing, and Sam and Tristan were holding hands the whole time. Tristan loved touching Sam. He loved feeling close to him; he had never felt closer to anyone in his life up until he met Sam.
A few hours later, everyone was back in Tristan's bedroom. Tristan held Sam - he would lean down and leave a kiss on his head every once in a while. Sam was so adorable, amazing, and sweet;Tristan was overwhelmed by the feeling of love whenever he looked at him.
That night, the two boys slept in the same bed. Sleeping next to Sam was the calmest Tristan had ever been, and it was the best he'd ever slept. Sam made Tristan's anxiety disappear completely.
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It had been around a week since they met, and they were already planning to meet again in June. Tristan was a generally impatient person, so he was finding it hard to wait such a long time. He wanted to be with Sam every second he could.
Tristan had smoked the last of his weed yesterday. He wasn't going to get more for a long time. How could he possibly live without drugs?
A few days ago, his grandmother had found another bag of Tristan's with powder residue inside. Tristan had lost it the other day, so when his grandmother came in his room, he knew right away she had found it. She had a talk with him and he told her that it was just a one time thing, and that he was never going to do it again because blah-blah-blah. That was the speech he gave anyone who discovered that he was still crushing and snorting his meds. "I'll never do it again," "it was just an impulse, and I need to learn to control my impulses," and the best: "I know how much snorting the Focalin disappoints and upsets you, so I won't do it again." Lies, all lies. Lying was how Tristan made it to where he was stuck in life.
Later, Tristan mixed Klonopin and Focalin. He was definitely going to mix them again whenever he had a chance. He couldn't stop laughing and saying things in weird voices. Tristan was enjoying himself; he hadn't been this happy since he met Sam.
Speaking of Sam, Tristan was currently Facetiming him. Sam found Tristan's demeanor funny and was laughing along with him. He enjoyed Sam's company; Sam could almost make Tristan as happy as drugs did. Almost.