Chop.

The small razor blade's corner was catching the white powder along with the dark wooded desk.

Chop.

The precision of the narrow lines were perfect, Violet noted. She continued to stare glassy eyed and curious. Her heart beat's rapid thumps echoed in her ears. She could have sworn Tate heard it too. Even if he was on the other side of the room, her room. She was fidgety, her fingers begun to sweat and become clammy, something that always seemed to happen when she was stressed or nervous.

She watched him snort two lines of the white powder without blinking. His sniffling lasted a minute.

The scrapes of metal against wood was similar to a cat scratching on a post. Her eyes locked on Tate's concentrated face, His jaw line set firm and tight against his cheek, as the inner bone of his face contorted in a way that was almost painful. His floppy dirty blonde strands fell heavily in his deep black iris. He flips it out only to have it fall right back against his forehead.

"Are you always so clean cut with your drugs?" her voice filtered nervously through Tate's ears causing him to stop momentarily to look her in the eye. His lips upturned into a sarcastic smile that hadn't quite reached his eyes.

"It's the...compulsive part of me. I do admit not all of my drugs are shaped neat and tidy. Just my coke." It hadn't taken effect yet. "After all, to me, it does hold the most value. I am a dealer along with a user."

"Does it get you higher than any other drug you've tried?" She watched as Tate laughed humorless, she watched his pupils dilate and he still was laughing. At what, she wasn't sure.

He sometimes missed being as clueless as she was when it came to his near constant use. He had Constance for a mother, and murderous visions. Drugs more or less helped what damage they did to his psyches. Sometimes it took weeks, other times it took a minute or two. Fixation was what kept him sane, at least until Violet became his neighbor, and the object of his desire.

He felt her gaze dead locked on his back. Awaiting his answer, he knew it. He just hadn't known of how to respond. He couldn't resist the lustful chill that ran down his spine and made his length twitch in his jeans, as he remembered his last coke trip alone in his bedroom when Violet wasn't there. He shook violently as tremors rolled through his hands. His breathing quickened as his mind raced. Violet, Violet, Violet his visions of murder and death subsided as the visions of her face and body came to the surface of his mind. Her long dirty blonde hair sliding over her dress clad shoulders.

Her dresses were always so beautifully plain, he wanted to bunch them up and throw them on the floor. He wanted her lips everywhere. His hands to roam the soft pale skin, feel her hip bones and rib cage feel her heart pulse frenzied and fast. His vision's became more sexual as time went on. Pretty soon his back was pressed against the wall as he slid down the cream colored paint onto the floor, reliving his mental fantasies of the girl next door. His shame short lived after orgasm pulsed through him.

He thanked god the drugs made him feel pleasure, they made him feel sane just like her.

"Tate?" her voice pierced his ear drum as he whipped to the side to face her tired gaze, her warm hazel eyes filled with confusion and mild annoyance.

"Did you hear me?" he hadn't known how to answer her. He felt like a pervert to be truthful.

"Yeah. I mean, coke heightens my feelings rather than a high I guess." She noticed his hands spasm against his jean clad knee. She noticed he couldn't look her in the eyes as he said this confession. She knew what he actually meant. She smiled as he looked to the ground in an invisible comfort. Barely missing her almost inaudible whisper.

"Show me." his eyes widened as his mouth dried.

"Show you what?" he croaked.

"What feelings get heightened by coke."

"Violet, no. I won't do that." she held his eye and walked over to him. Leaning her slim hands against his shoulders.

"Why?"

"I'll lose all of my control."

"Control of what?"

"Every feeling that I have about you..." he trailed off.

Her lips crashed onto his in a split second.

Her nails dug into his shoulders hidden by that bulky sweater.

His lips were chapped and warm.

Her teeth scratched against the rapid pulse of his veins, pushing blood against the marks that seemed to disappear. He groaned holding her hips.

She was so fucking gorgeous.

"Please Tate." Her voice was like an echo against his ears, so far away, yet so close. His head was spinning. Swimming with realization. He wanted to scream. He wanted to make her scream.

"Fuck." he growled in the air. The hem of his shirt was being lifted by nimble fingers. She kissed his stomach, her nails moved down to his naval. Stopping at the slight hair that was underneath, disappearing into the jeans that were ripped and frayed.

"Tell me everything." she cooed.

"Don't do this to me Vi." he almost pleaded, his voice was rushed and urgent as she felt the button come undone on his jeans.

"Break down your walls." she breathed.

"I'm in love with you." he whispered breathlessly.

He lulled his head to look at her. Her eyes bore into his and she said nothing. His heart dropped into his stomach. He ruined everything.

"Violet... say something."

"I love you." she whispered. Pushing her lips against his, letting his tongue battle for dominance with hers. He grunted, and sighed. His hips shook in pleasure.

"You have no idea what you do to me, Violet Harmon."

Her lips became erratic against his as he threaded his fingers in her soft hair and clutched at her body sincerely afraid that she would slip away, and he would wake up and this would be a dream.

Her lips trailed his jaw as he felt his breath hitch.

"I love you Violet. I love you so much." he finally said, loud and clear, his heart pumped viciously against his rib cage He wanted to scream. She loved him too.

"Do me a favor, Tate?" His eyes remained heavy lidded.

"Hm."

"Show me how much you love me."

Tate smiled wordlessly, winding her legs around his hips as he carried her effortlessly to her bed.

Tate Langdon was Violet's drug of choice.

She wouldn't want to be addicted to anything else.