Sparks
When Sparks Ignite.
If only it was that easy, I blatantly answered in my head, when I eyed the headline on the latest gossip magazine. Find Your True Love. Now you can probably guess why I had such a negative approach to this magazine. I stared at the magazine-lined shelves which stretched from about the end of the aisle, to halfway along. It was a tough decision – scratch that – a life and death decision. I couldn’t choose between the issue involving an interview with Britney Spears; or the issue that explains the truths behind why Lindsey Lohan was heavily influenced in drugs.
I pulled my gum from my mouth forming a stretchy string. I was pulled out of thought when I heard a stampede of giggles. I looked up and noticed a couple of girls; their hair colour dyed a very light blonde, and him. Mr. Promiscuous, Mr. In, Mr, SLUT! It’s not hard to guess what he was doing in this aisle.
He was obviously ‘flirting’ with his so called ‘girlfriend’ by buying her a sex-filled girly magazine. I could never understand the female mind. Who would want to know how to put a tampon in? I wouldn’t, but, then again, it’s very hard for me to complete something like that. I returned my attention from the group and back to my life and death decision, before choosing the one about Britney. It would be exciting to see what strange escapade she so daringly put herself through.
I heard a stifled laughter from behind me, the sound deep and raspy. I rolled my eyes before turning around, coming face first with him. Monsieur Gerard Way, or more commonly referred to as Gee. He folded his arms, his eyebrows relaxed and his nose in the air.
“Yes?”
I asked uninterested, before pulling out the loose change in my pocket, counting it while he was hollering over me.
“What you doing with that mag?”
He asked in his best ‘gruff’ voice, in an attempt to startle me. I shrugged and continued counting, coming to $3.25. I was a quarter short. I felt something fall into my hand – a quarter. I looked up, to a smirk.
“Noticed you were short. Don’t worry about paying me back.”
He turned away, grabbing his ‘girlfriend’ and running out of the store. I picked the magazine off the shelf and made my way towards the register. It was strange that he acted so… so nice. It was unlike him.
But that was then. The one thing that I remember so clearly, almost etched into my skull, was the exact place I was standing while choosing that very magazine a few weeks later, was when the sparks were ignited.
Destiny is calling me;
Open up my eager eyes, ‘cause I’m Mr. Brightside.
---
I pulled my jacket close to my body; the evening chill was starting to bite me and I wasn’t fond on getting some form of sickness. I stood at the run down piece of metal that was supposed to be a bus shelter. I looked at my watch for the tenth time that night. Late, it’s always bloody late. My bus service is probably the worse funded company in the whole of the States.
I shivered slightly when a breeze whipped through the shelter, causing tiny goose-bumps to form over my existent goose-bumps. I heard a door slam behind me, violent words and sobbing. Alright I admit, I shouldn’t have watched the drama, but it definitely took my mind off the chilly night.
It looked like a cliché break-up but also different from the original cliché. I know that doesn’t make sense, but she seemed to be worked up, but at the same time relieved. Several minutes later, a figure propped himself up against the door frame, looking worn out; his form literally hanging on the frame. His pants were halfway up his legs, and that only confirmed my suspicions. It was a one night stand and he was obviously finished with this girl.
My prying was stopped when a pair of headlights flashed against a near street sign. I looked behind me, to find the rickety bus, holler its way up the slight hill, towards me. I pulled out a $5 bill and held it tightly in my hand. The bus hauled to a stop. I boarded it, handing my bill to him, before making my way to the back. I would have preferred the bus stop compared to this. It felt colder than outside. But it was either this and get home in half an hour or walk. I’d rather prefer to get home in one piece.
I shot one last glance at the scene, before recognising who this user was – the one and only – the talk of the grade and school. Mr. Promiscuous – Mr Gerard Way.
It was both surprising and not. My grade and I were all use to his immediate break-ups and one-night-stands, so it wasn’t that surprising to see him in this state. But the reason I found it surprising was that I’d only ever seen him the day after his ‘fun’ night, never just after of maybe even during. The bus was at the corner of the road, but I could swear that his eyes were burning daggers in the back of my head. It was just a hunch, a hunch I didn’t want to believe.
---
I made my way into school, a skip in my stride. The weather had taken a turn for good, so the sun was out and not a cloud in sight. My bag felt light on back. I could definitely tell it was sports day. My favourite day – the one day I could skip the 2 hours of sport and get away with it. The teachers have never caught me, and I would like it to stay that way.
The lockers lined the hallway, the chipping paint greeting me, the sounds of clanking doors was music to my ears. I liked lockers; their almost like a cage for your books -quite funny when you put it like that. But then again, that cage might not just be for books. People can also become caged inside. It’s happened three times to myself, but that was when I was trying to be in the ‘in’ group. After the third time, I gave up.
I reached my locker and spun the combination, hearing the click and pulling he handle open. It was quite empty except for a few pictures I scattered throughout it. I looked at my timetable noticing that History was first. I pulled the brutally battered textbook out of the locker.
It was exceedingly quiet when I reached the classroom. I peeked in the door and noticed the whole class, busily filling in a paper. Shit! History test. How could I have forgotten. I knocked quietly on the door and opened it, being eyed evilly by my teacher. She pointed her long slender finger at the vacant seat. I slipped into the seat and looked at the paper and then at the clock. Well so much for 50 minutes to do it. I have 45. I picked up the pencil on the desk and started by writing my name.
---
I exhaled deeply when I walked out of the test. It was almost as if some form of weight was lifted from my back. I stretched when I got out of the door and halfway down the hallway. It stretching was painful, I had just lived the moment. Something big, heavy and bulky slammed right into my back, with the force of a bull. I stumbled in agony, rubbing my head, before turning to meet with the sincere face of Gerard.
“Eh, sorry?”
I shrugged and picked up my mess of books on the floor and continued walking, thinking of possible safe places to stretch my now sore muscles.
I reached the cafeteria, slightly hurling from the foul stench of burnt bread and off juice. I decided to skip recess and take a breather outside. I pushed the heavy doors open and made my way onto the field, eyeing an old oak that was vacant. I trudged over towards it, hoping to catch not only a breather, but also a few Z’s.
The shade seemed a little darker when I felt someone hovering over me. I opened my eyes, groggily a saw the outline of Gerard. If I wasn’t guessing, I’d say he was stalking me.
“Yes?”
I asked flatly.
“Hey, you, uh, wanna hang with me after school?”
It was like a slap in the face. Him, of all people wanted hang out with an Average Joe like me? I guess it wasn’t all bad that I had accepted. It did lead to something I quite like.
I nodded, confused yet excited upon the so sudden offer. He gave me a couple of details of where he wanted to meet and a few rules. It was almost like he was planning a date, not that I was complaining.
The bell rang not a mere second after he left me to my peace; almost as if he planned the meeting. I got up, my sore muscles literally creaking from before and from being rested. I made my way, unsure of what I had next, back to my locker.
---
The day dragged on, giving the impression that I would have to wait double time before I could meet up with the most popular boy in school, due to his off-stage antics after school. But slowly and surely, the clock’s hands pointed at 5 to 3 and I was halfway out of my seat, eager. It seemed awkward that I was so wrapped up in the slut of the grade. I guess I could say I was just like the naïve girls he conned. It was like a spark when he spoke to you, like you were the centre of attention and everyone had to look at you.
The drill of the bell rang and I raced out of the classroom, down the hallway to my locker, not being able to spin the combination fast enough. I ripped my bag out, slamming the locker like they do in the movies and I was out the front gate before you could say ‘I’m lucky’.
I saw Gerard puffing his fag as usual, leaning up against the tree outside the school premises. He eyed me and waved at me – it was more a flick of the wrist and that was it. I walked over to him before smiling and acknowledging his existence. He pointed to his bomb car, which I gladly got into. The interior wasn’t all bad. He had a pair of dice hanging from the rear-view mirror, and as cliché as it seems it suited his character.
He got in a few seconds later, after squashing his fag with his shoe. He started the car up and started to drive towards the local mall. The car ride was silent, but I was used to silence and found more fascination in watching the scenery pass by.
We pulled into the car park 10 minutes later, finding a spot close to the store. We got out and walked towards the building. We walked in and were hit with a wave of air conditioning, which was cooling from the warm air outside. We started walking pass various stores, before coming to the supermarket I was in where I bought my magazine not a mere 2 weeks ago, in which he gave me the extra 25c for.
He smiled at me and walked in. I tagged along, mindlessly walking up and down the aisles until we came to the magazine aisle I was in when Gerard started his escapade of being nice to me.
He walked down to the fashion magazines, something quite feminine for such as masculine guy. He turned to me, a small smirk playing at his mouth, before his eyes connected with mine. It was a little awkward the situation but all thoughts were wiped from my brain when I felt to soft, plump objects collide with my lips. My eyes opened widely before relaxing into the kiss.
My stomach was having a heart attack of butterflies and I could feel the sparks people said only come from the first kiss, if the person you’re kissing is deeply in love with you. I felt something slimy run itself across my lower lip. I granted access to the foreign thing, which had started some form of a battle in my mouth. My hands had lost connection with my brain, before running themselves through his hair, slightly pulling occasionally on his luscious hair. I felt the same to me, almost massaging. My lungs were starting to feel like they were on fire and in a flash, I pulled away, slightly gasping for breath.
I looked up, only realising that I had kissed the most wanted guy in school. He smiled cheekily at me, his eyes throwing glances at my lips occasionally, before I got the message and went in for a second kiss. This one was quicker than and not as passionate as the last one, moments ago.
We pulled apart for the second time, before I slipped my hand into his spider-like fingers.
“Well, someone was eager.”
He laughed into my head. I laughed too.
“I guess we’re together than?”
I asked casually. I felt him nod on top of me, in which I nuzzled my head further under his chin.
“You’re a positive person, Mr Brightside.”
We left the conversation at that before looking at the same magazines that had started this series of events. I don’t want to sound cliché and say that the rest is history. It’s not, because it’s the future we’re looking at, not the past.
Open up my eager eyes, ‘cause I’m Mr. Brightside.
I pulled my gum from my mouth forming a stretchy string. I was pulled out of thought when I heard a stampede of giggles. I looked up and noticed a couple of girls; their hair colour dyed a very light blonde, and him. Mr. Promiscuous, Mr. In, Mr, SLUT! It’s not hard to guess what he was doing in this aisle.
He was obviously ‘flirting’ with his so called ‘girlfriend’ by buying her a sex-filled girly magazine. I could never understand the female mind. Who would want to know how to put a tampon in? I wouldn’t, but, then again, it’s very hard for me to complete something like that. I returned my attention from the group and back to my life and death decision, before choosing the one about Britney. It would be exciting to see what strange escapade she so daringly put herself through.
I heard a stifled laughter from behind me, the sound deep and raspy. I rolled my eyes before turning around, coming face first with him. Monsieur Gerard Way, or more commonly referred to as Gee. He folded his arms, his eyebrows relaxed and his nose in the air.
“Yes?”
I asked uninterested, before pulling out the loose change in my pocket, counting it while he was hollering over me.
“What you doing with that mag?”
He asked in his best ‘gruff’ voice, in an attempt to startle me. I shrugged and continued counting, coming to $3.25. I was a quarter short. I felt something fall into my hand – a quarter. I looked up, to a smirk.
“Noticed you were short. Don’t worry about paying me back.”
He turned away, grabbing his ‘girlfriend’ and running out of the store. I picked the magazine off the shelf and made my way towards the register. It was strange that he acted so… so nice. It was unlike him.
But that was then. The one thing that I remember so clearly, almost etched into my skull, was the exact place I was standing while choosing that very magazine a few weeks later, was when the sparks were ignited.
Destiny is calling me;
Open up my eager eyes, ‘cause I’m Mr. Brightside.
---
I pulled my jacket close to my body; the evening chill was starting to bite me and I wasn’t fond on getting some form of sickness. I stood at the run down piece of metal that was supposed to be a bus shelter. I looked at my watch for the tenth time that night. Late, it’s always bloody late. My bus service is probably the worse funded company in the whole of the States.
I shivered slightly when a breeze whipped through the shelter, causing tiny goose-bumps to form over my existent goose-bumps. I heard a door slam behind me, violent words and sobbing. Alright I admit, I shouldn’t have watched the drama, but it definitely took my mind off the chilly night.
It looked like a cliché break-up but also different from the original cliché. I know that doesn’t make sense, but she seemed to be worked up, but at the same time relieved. Several minutes later, a figure propped himself up against the door frame, looking worn out; his form literally hanging on the frame. His pants were halfway up his legs, and that only confirmed my suspicions. It was a one night stand and he was obviously finished with this girl.
My prying was stopped when a pair of headlights flashed against a near street sign. I looked behind me, to find the rickety bus, holler its way up the slight hill, towards me. I pulled out a $5 bill and held it tightly in my hand. The bus hauled to a stop. I boarded it, handing my bill to him, before making my way to the back. I would have preferred the bus stop compared to this. It felt colder than outside. But it was either this and get home in half an hour or walk. I’d rather prefer to get home in one piece.
I shot one last glance at the scene, before recognising who this user was – the one and only – the talk of the grade and school. Mr. Promiscuous – Mr Gerard Way.
It was both surprising and not. My grade and I were all use to his immediate break-ups and one-night-stands, so it wasn’t that surprising to see him in this state. But the reason I found it surprising was that I’d only ever seen him the day after his ‘fun’ night, never just after of maybe even during. The bus was at the corner of the road, but I could swear that his eyes were burning daggers in the back of my head. It was just a hunch, a hunch I didn’t want to believe.
---
I made my way into school, a skip in my stride. The weather had taken a turn for good, so the sun was out and not a cloud in sight. My bag felt light on back. I could definitely tell it was sports day. My favourite day – the one day I could skip the 2 hours of sport and get away with it. The teachers have never caught me, and I would like it to stay that way.
The lockers lined the hallway, the chipping paint greeting me, the sounds of clanking doors was music to my ears. I liked lockers; their almost like a cage for your books -quite funny when you put it like that. But then again, that cage might not just be for books. People can also become caged inside. It’s happened three times to myself, but that was when I was trying to be in the ‘in’ group. After the third time, I gave up.
I reached my locker and spun the combination, hearing the click and pulling he handle open. It was quite empty except for a few pictures I scattered throughout it. I looked at my timetable noticing that History was first. I pulled the brutally battered textbook out of the locker.
It was exceedingly quiet when I reached the classroom. I peeked in the door and noticed the whole class, busily filling in a paper. Shit! History test. How could I have forgotten. I knocked quietly on the door and opened it, being eyed evilly by my teacher. She pointed her long slender finger at the vacant seat. I slipped into the seat and looked at the paper and then at the clock. Well so much for 50 minutes to do it. I have 45. I picked up the pencil on the desk and started by writing my name.
---
I exhaled deeply when I walked out of the test. It was almost as if some form of weight was lifted from my back. I stretched when I got out of the door and halfway down the hallway. It stretching was painful, I had just lived the moment. Something big, heavy and bulky slammed right into my back, with the force of a bull. I stumbled in agony, rubbing my head, before turning to meet with the sincere face of Gerard.
“Eh, sorry?”
I shrugged and picked up my mess of books on the floor and continued walking, thinking of possible safe places to stretch my now sore muscles.
I reached the cafeteria, slightly hurling from the foul stench of burnt bread and off juice. I decided to skip recess and take a breather outside. I pushed the heavy doors open and made my way onto the field, eyeing an old oak that was vacant. I trudged over towards it, hoping to catch not only a breather, but also a few Z’s.
The shade seemed a little darker when I felt someone hovering over me. I opened my eyes, groggily a saw the outline of Gerard. If I wasn’t guessing, I’d say he was stalking me.
“Yes?”
I asked flatly.
“Hey, you, uh, wanna hang with me after school?”
It was like a slap in the face. Him, of all people wanted hang out with an Average Joe like me? I guess it wasn’t all bad that I had accepted. It did lead to something I quite like.
I nodded, confused yet excited upon the so sudden offer. He gave me a couple of details of where he wanted to meet and a few rules. It was almost like he was planning a date, not that I was complaining.
The bell rang not a mere second after he left me to my peace; almost as if he planned the meeting. I got up, my sore muscles literally creaking from before and from being rested. I made my way, unsure of what I had next, back to my locker.
---
The day dragged on, giving the impression that I would have to wait double time before I could meet up with the most popular boy in school, due to his off-stage antics after school. But slowly and surely, the clock’s hands pointed at 5 to 3 and I was halfway out of my seat, eager. It seemed awkward that I was so wrapped up in the slut of the grade. I guess I could say I was just like the naïve girls he conned. It was like a spark when he spoke to you, like you were the centre of attention and everyone had to look at you.
The drill of the bell rang and I raced out of the classroom, down the hallway to my locker, not being able to spin the combination fast enough. I ripped my bag out, slamming the locker like they do in the movies and I was out the front gate before you could say ‘I’m lucky’.
I saw Gerard puffing his fag as usual, leaning up against the tree outside the school premises. He eyed me and waved at me – it was more a flick of the wrist and that was it. I walked over to him before smiling and acknowledging his existence. He pointed to his bomb car, which I gladly got into. The interior wasn’t all bad. He had a pair of dice hanging from the rear-view mirror, and as cliché as it seems it suited his character.
He got in a few seconds later, after squashing his fag with his shoe. He started the car up and started to drive towards the local mall. The car ride was silent, but I was used to silence and found more fascination in watching the scenery pass by.
We pulled into the car park 10 minutes later, finding a spot close to the store. We got out and walked towards the building. We walked in and were hit with a wave of air conditioning, which was cooling from the warm air outside. We started walking pass various stores, before coming to the supermarket I was in where I bought my magazine not a mere 2 weeks ago, in which he gave me the extra 25c for.
He smiled at me and walked in. I tagged along, mindlessly walking up and down the aisles until we came to the magazine aisle I was in when Gerard started his escapade of being nice to me.
He walked down to the fashion magazines, something quite feminine for such as masculine guy. He turned to me, a small smirk playing at his mouth, before his eyes connected with mine. It was a little awkward the situation but all thoughts were wiped from my brain when I felt to soft, plump objects collide with my lips. My eyes opened widely before relaxing into the kiss.
My stomach was having a heart attack of butterflies and I could feel the sparks people said only come from the first kiss, if the person you’re kissing is deeply in love with you. I felt something slimy run itself across my lower lip. I granted access to the foreign thing, which had started some form of a battle in my mouth. My hands had lost connection with my brain, before running themselves through his hair, slightly pulling occasionally on his luscious hair. I felt the same to me, almost massaging. My lungs were starting to feel like they were on fire and in a flash, I pulled away, slightly gasping for breath.
I looked up, only realising that I had kissed the most wanted guy in school. He smiled cheekily at me, his eyes throwing glances at my lips occasionally, before I got the message and went in for a second kiss. This one was quicker than and not as passionate as the last one, moments ago.
We pulled apart for the second time, before I slipped my hand into his spider-like fingers.
“Well, someone was eager.”
He laughed into my head. I laughed too.
“I guess we’re together than?”
I asked casually. I felt him nod on top of me, in which I nuzzled my head further under his chin.
“You’re a positive person, Mr Brightside.”
We left the conversation at that before looking at the same magazines that had started this series of events. I don’t want to sound cliché and say that the rest is history. It’s not, because it’s the future we’re looking at, not the past.
Open up my eager eyes, ‘cause I’m Mr. Brightside.