Sonata

PRESENT TENSE

I really had no idea how much time had passed since the beginning of my flashback to when I snapped out of it.
It was long enough to where mostly everyone had left, except for those few mentioned earlier that were getting their tokens.

Like vultures, they were.

It was too loud in the cramped space to even hear my own thoughts.
There was an air of cheers, and there was an air of sobs.
A hot mix of happiness and misery that was a tsunami of emotion. Too much for me to handle all at one time; too many rays of activity to be processed and stay coherent. Which is why I went mentally delusional.

Thinking back to the first time I met Oli was my coping mechanism as an attempt to subside the shock of what just happened.
The way that the brain works is it can make you believe that anything is real. Fuck you up.
It's quite remarkable; the power something internal has over your external surroundings. An organ taking you to a totally different place than from the one you're physically present at.

To say it was working would be an understatement.
I was fucking captivated by the inner workings of my own mind. It was the greatest high in the world; putting me in the best I've been in a very long time.

Ironic? Yes.
Slightly demented? Perhaps.

Wilcom seemed so real, as though I was actually sitting on the steps of the record store, instead of on a bar stool. I was in the van; not in the club.
And I was listening to the music; not the mourners' bellows.

And when I was in the club, it was on the first night, as opposed to the reality where I could never see myself coming back again.
I was in a euphoric state of living in the past.

I was sitting next to Tom on completely different circumstances.

I think a person gets to a point of knowing that they've lost everything, or at the least, something significantly important to them, that their reality changes in an instant.

Their brainpower using itself against them to shield from the pain.

People wonder why when someone has just experienced a traumatic event like a severe crash or, more severely yet real, the butchering of their entire family, that they simply cannot speak.

The cycle is this: your jaw falls slack further down than you thought possible, and your heart feels as though it got swallowed up by your insides. And then it's gone.

You're gone.

The phenomenon consisting of being unaware that you're breathing, even though you still continue to, is never more real than at that moment of tragedy.
It's the closest to an outer-body experience you'll ever know.
But you'll never understand until you're next in line.

All your eyes can focus on; the only thing your pupils are consumed with, is the image before you. A branding of your conscience that is more than permanent.
More than you can ever fix.
Your life is totally fucked.

Can you feel it?

Oli dangled from the rafter like a strewn scarecrow.
Blood dripping down his body.
His neck harshly twisted to the right.
A spotlight to illuminate this.

Can you feel it?

I was still under that spell of numbness; still enticed in that web of denial. It took almost nothing at all to get there, except of course, the throat breaking of a loved one.

Can you feel it?

My thoughts were playing an entirely different movie.
Oli was on his two feet, walking back to the van, with the boys in the background smirking as his hand slowly coalesced with mine.
There was sweat dripping down his face and to his neck, where his tattoos shimmered under the streetlamp of the back alley, then falling drop by drop to his shirt; making a half-circle of perspiration.
And through it all...he was smiling.

We were all so content with that time; we all had something to be grateful about. It was only the first night I had met him, but there was something that he offered.
Something that I couldn't refuse.

It was in his personality.
It was in his stature.

It was in his eyes.

He was a fucking good man, and I knew it from the second I stepped into the van. He may have covered it up with his piercings and ink, but no matter how hard he was trying to look bad, it was so obvious that he wasn't.

And if it wasn't apparent enough with the way he saved me from the dare by Tony, or switched spots with me in the stairwell, or even when he dragged me over to stay with Tom so I wouldn't be left in the sea of people, it was in everything else he did.

He was helping people.

The boys claimed that they did it because it had been their passion for years, and outlawing their passion was the equivalent to taking their last breath. That they were simply rebelling against the system.

Sticking it to the man.

But with Oli, it was that and everyone that had felt the same sense of rejection as he did. People were supposed to feel guilty for indulging in such a sin that was causing them to get wasted and ruin their lives.

Of course, it wasn't true.
But Oli was the voice of the people.

And when people were scared, he was there.

......

PAST TENSE

His lips were fucking pushy tonight.
I could barely stand alone for a few minutes before he was wrapping

his arms around my waist and sucking on the nape of my neck.
We had been going out for about 3 weeks, and this was just another countless night of us visiting the club.

The band performed constantly.
It seemed like everyday they were either practicing or playing a show. I had gotten Oli's number the first night once they dropped me off and he walked me to my door. Then after we said bye, he waited for me to fully get into my house, even though it took some time since it had to be done sneakily.
It was the sweetest gesture a guy ever did for me.

Getting back to my point though, as far as intimacy went...well, there was no trouble in that department.
Oli was all over me all the time, and that's not my ego talking.
Literally, all the fucking time.

It wasn't just me when I was talking to one of the other boys; it was me and Oli. It was somewhat suffocating at first, for I had never been so guarded over like that with any other guy I'd been with. Nevertheless, once I got over the initial shock of it, I found it quite refreshing and loving.
I've never felt more important than I did with him.

Don't get me wrong; it did have its flaws.

Just the simple fact of wanting to be an individual at least once in a while was never an option, for he always needed attention and for me to comply to his presence.
Like a pet, that boy.

And tonight, as I was trying to talk to his guitarist, he was no different. Or if anything, worse.

You try having a civilized conversation with Curtis while there's a leech behind you.

I had underestimated his persistance.
The first time, I had looked behind my shoulder and smiled, then gently pushed him off.
The second time; the same thing.
The third; I shrugged forcefully.

And he still came for more.

It wasn't until the fifth time had I given up on making him go away, and Curtis was the same. He stood there awkwardly as I catered to Oli, and looked relieved when I told him we could finish the conversation later.

As he said his hushed goodbye and bolted to the other side of the club, I turned around strictly in Oli's direction; not at all pleased. He only smiled in innocence and took a step closer, if it were possible.
I huffed.

"Come on, I was trying to talk to Curtis and you kept interrupting. What do you want?"

He didn't reply, but instead, grabbed me by my belt loops and attacked my neck. I stood there with my arms to my side like a rag doll as he commited his PDA.

"Can't you keep it in your pants 'til we at least leave?!" I whined.

He shook his head against me. I groaned.
His fingers unraveled themselves from my loops, and then slid his hands up my sides slowly and arched his back; biting me.
I rolled my eyes and tried to back away, but he grabbed me tighter; pushing me into the bar where I was trapped.

He giggled as I knew I was defeated and turned into Raggidy-Anne for him once again. I wasn't into showing off to everybody, or even more accurate, disgusting them, but Oli was being forceful.

He knew what he wanted and he obviously didn't give a shit if people were watching. He maybe even wanted them to see.

I looked down at the gorgeous parasite before me, and caught him glancing to the left. Quickly enough in the blink of an eye.
But I saw it.

I glanced over in that direction and observed a guy sitting at the far end of the bar who was staring and frowning at us.
He had his hand on a beer glass, and loosened his grip as he saw me stare back. He sighed, then turned away.
OH.

"I know yeh see 'im." Oli said huskily in my ear.

"'ee was starin' at yeh fer ten minutes."

I began to laugh.
He's such the Alpha-Male.

"Is that why you're doing this?"

For the first time that night, he stopped trying to eat me.
He pulled his face away and looked into my eyes with purity of any emotion. He didn't say anything.

His hands tightened around my waist, and he pulled me into him.
There was my answer.

My smile grew even bigger as I wrapped my arms around his small frame and kissed him on his shoulder.

"You know I'm all your's babe."