1. Oh Oli
I watched as the rain patted on the windowpanes. I couldn't sleep, I wouldn't. I had to keep my eye on him. His dark brown hair covered his forehead and his his eyes well; almost every inch of his body covered in tattoos, except his beautiful face. A tattooed triangle of freckles near his right eye made me know almost instantly who this drug-addict outside my house was. Oliver Sykes, a man whom I was not afraid to call my idol. He needed help. He saved me, I must save him.
I couldn't just stay here all night waiting. I reached over for his phone, and skimmed the contacts; eventually finding 'Jordan Fish.' I waited for him to answer, which he did, with a slurred, "What the fuck mate; it's two in the morning."
"I'm not Oli... I answered sheepishly, "He's here at my house, I found him outside, unconscious, with eight bottles and a roll of cannabis. I'm trying to help him, but he won't come around. Please, Jordan. 24 Oxberry Lane, Sheffield. Get here as soon as you can."
And with that, I hung up, and waited.