Maudlin Melody

“Mikey.”

I look up from the Xbox controller as I pause the game I’m playing. The newest one Harry bought; Assassin’s Creed. It’s addictive. So much so that it kinda makes you lose track of your surroundings; I had forgotten dad was sitting on a sofa, reading yesterday’s paper by the looks of it. I blink at him. “Yeah, dad?”

“I know I’ve left it a little late, but would you mind going to get some milk?” Dad’s face is hidden behind his newspaper and, as usual, his tone sounds incredibly sarcastic, a dry monotone. I don’t have much of a choice, whether I mind or not. I frown a little and my hands fall to my sides, the controller dropping to my lap. I’m sitting on the carpeted floor, leaning my back against the sofa opposite the TV, my legs crossed the way teachers used to enforce my class to do back in primary. My neck and back are stiff from the uncomfortable position I’ve kept myself in. I wriggle a little and stretch upwards.

“Really..?” My voice is low, but dad heard nonetheless.

“Yes, I know, but I’m working late tonight and I’d really like some coffee to get through.” No kidding. Death would be better company than my dad without his consistent caffeine fix. It is almost hourly when he's under pressure from work.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” I exit the game half-heartedly -I was doing badly anyway- and stand up. I stretch again as dad starts extracting change from his pocket.

“A bott- no, make that two. Two cartons of milk,” he decides. I only nod as I take the handful of coins handed to me and hurry up the stairs for a jacket and some shoes.

- M -

I bang the door shut and flinch as it judders loudly, breaking through the silence the crisp night air brings. I hate cold. And today it’s mind-numbingly so (and limb-numbingly too, really). It’s pretty dark out. By that, of course, I mean I can barely see past my hand. Especially as lampposts around these parts flicker and end up off more often than they’re on, but I know my way pretty well.

While I’m fumbling for my MP3 from my jacket pocket -my dire attempt made worse by the fact that I’m wearing thick gloves- I happen to step on an unseen pine cone and trip, stumbling off the pavement and only just managing to catch myself before my face is reshaped. Even though Harry continuously tells me I’m ugly, I know I’m not that bad. I’d quite like to keep my facial structure for the moment, thanks.

After finally managing to get my MP3 player out of my damn pocket, the headphones are another frustrating feat, but with that done and the little speakers pushed into my ears, I’m free to listen to Elvis to my heart’s content. Strangely enough, the first song to come on is Down in the Alley, and it’s just as it rolls on that I step by the alley of doom. The one prostitutes wouldn’t look out of place in. It’s on the other side of the road, and as I pause and look at it, I feel that urge to do something dangerous. Something reckless and stupid. I can’t even see the whole way down it. It’s in between two seemingly abandoned houses (though I’m told by Harry they’re actually not. But that could be a reason to believe the exact opposite), and there always feels like there’s something in there, staring at me, watching. It’s ridiculous. But it’s the short cut to town…

I shiver and continue my walk down the road.

On the way back. On the way back I’ll do it.

In the shop I’m buying the milk with the self-help machine when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and see Anna grinning up at me.
Anna is a cute-as-buttons old lady I work with on Sundays at a Charity shop. I guess that’s another addition to the list of why I suck and am not worthy of the age “16”. Any other person would pick somewhere much more hip to work at, most probably. And use a word other than “hip” to describe it too.

“Mikey! Dear,” she smiles.

“Hi, Anna.”

“On another errand for your father?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, an then after a smile, “Working late again tonight?”

“Tried to get off it, I did, but this night couldn’t be avoided. Taking all the shifts I can anyway, what with Christmas coming up and everything. You excited yet?”

“Um,” I return to placing my items in plastic bags as I’m directed to by the female robotic voice who seems to be getting impatient. “Not yet,” I offer Anna a sheepish smile. “Dad says we’re putting up Christmas decorations tomorrow though. I guess I’ll get more into it then.”

“Oh, fun, good, good. I’ll see you on Sunday then, Mikey.”

“See you then.” I watch as Anne begins to waddle off and waves a petite hand at me. She’s a frail old lady, and looks like she’s drowning in her uniform. I smile fondly after her; she acts like my grandma did sometimes. Then again, I guess all old people do.

Stepping outside the shop again, I pull the collar of my jacket up to protect myself from the cold. The bags that the milk is in are weighing down and I’m so glad that I did the whole double-bagging thing or they’d have ripped already. I’m humming along to A Boy Like Me, A Girl Like You and fiddling with the change in my pocket. I’d actually bought some gum too- feeling adventurous and all. I smile; maybe it’ll give me gumption?

I’m so punny.

Of course, when I get to the alley, I’m scared as ever and it looks deeper, darker, but I’m pretty sure that’s partly my fear taking over. Despite my unease, I slip two sticks of gum into my mouth and turn, determined, towards the alley and march in, chewing purposefully.
It’s takes approximately four minutes to walk though the whole thing if I’m brisk, and I’m glad for the chewing gum in my mouth, the coins in my pocket and the music in my ears distracting me from my whereabouts. Unfortunately, nothing seems to change the fact that half way in standing fairly close to the only lamppost in the whole lane I see a silhouette. A tall, slim one, clad in a leather jacket and dark jeans with a sort of Mohawk thing going on with it’s hair. It looks awfully cool as it smokes.

Addison is standing just out of the light but the left side of him is still slightly more visible. As he smokes his eyes remain on the floor, and his other hand is flicking his lighter on and off, the fire flaring wildly in objection. He looks pensive. He looks sexy. And those feelings? The bubbles and weird attraction? Striking me again and again, spiking in my stomach…

I should walk away.

But, dammit, I’m too proud to give up now. Why should I turn the other way and have to go the long way home in the cold?

I’m being ridiculous. He doesn’t care about it, so why should I? Addison probably hasn’t given the incident a second thought. I’d slowed down but at this I start to quicken again, averting my eyes from him and looking straight down at my path -or whatever hasn’t been swallowed by darkness. And, maybe it’s a little immature, but as I saunter past I still keep my gaze turned away and mutter “Jerk.”

I’m mortified, of course, to hear him laughing and swivel around, my face red. Shit, shit. Should I apologise? But Addison doesn’t seem angry at all. He says something to me, but with Elvis in my ears it’s nothing but a muffle (meaning he must have laughed pretty loud) and I tug on an earphone.

“W-what?”

I’m alone in an alley with the guy who had sex with me while I was drunk and high, holding a bag of milk and chewing on gum that is suddenly losing it’s taste.

“I said, that’s not what you were saying that night, is it? It’s been an age, uh… Mikey? Was it?” I scowl. “Don’t be like that!” Addison smiles easily, recovering from his hysterics. It’s slow. It’s teasing. It’s painful; I’ve got butterflies. He leans up from the alley wall, swaying a little on his own two feet. After taking another drag of his cigarette and allowing his green eyes roam about my person in a way that makes me blush, Addison flicks at his lighter one more time. I stare at the flames, trying hard not to gulp as he then stuffs the lighter in his back pocket.

“You still look good, but you have way too many clothes on.”

“You’re disgusting,” I hiss.

Addison frowns a little. “I hear Harry talking. But at least angry looks good on you.”

I can’t help my eyebrows rising in surprise and my cheeks flushing deeper. Why does he attack with compliments? It throws me off.
I shake my head and turn to go but Addison’s voice catches me like a lasso; “Mikey… Stop.” I do so- I hardly have a choice. Actually, this isn‘t strictly true… But there‘s something inside me convincing me that I should listen to the tall, front man… Excitement dances to the whirring siren of danger! in my head. “Don’t go.”

He’s given me no reason to actually listen to him, but I can’t help taking notice. I turn back to face him. My heart is beating fast because he’s so beautiful, and I’m in this situation right now. Not to mention the fact that I was in a very different (and naked) one weeks ago… With him. Addison O’Brien.

My voice is low when I speak up, “Why’d you do it?”

“Why’d I do it? Because I wanted to.” Addison tilts his head and scrutinises me. “Was it really your first time? I guess if it really did mess you up then it’s understandable that Harry’s been refusing to come to band practice-”

“He’s what?!” If I was mortified before, then how I feel now is off the embarrassment scale. “He-- he can’t do that! I said- I’ wasn’t--” I step back and shake my head. “I’ll tell him not to-”

Addison shadows my movement and then goes further, closing the gap between us until we’re chest to chest. He lifts my chin up with a cold finger and I stop chewing; the tingles running through my veins along with heated memories clouding my thoughts. His eyes are looking directly into mine. So green, soulful, dirty, sincere.

“I didn’t mean to affect you that way, Mikey.” His finger trails along my jaw and down my neck. I’m shivering, practically putty in his hands for the second time. “I was a little shocked and, I’ll admit, upset, when I found out that you felt how you did…” His voice is a whisper at this point, and when I reply I find myself mimicking the tone.

“Why?”

“Because,” Addison draws his cigarette out of his mouth with two slender fingers and swings it through them as if it’s just a toy. Something to play with like those cowboys and their guns in old western movies. He puts the stub out as he stretches his arms out vertically for a moment, then leaves it to fall as he grabs my shoulders and twists me so that my back is against the brick wall towering high above our heads. I can feel the jagged material through my jacket. The cold is filtering in too, but I can hardy concentrate on that. “I quite liked what happened between us,” his head lowers and his lips meet the milky skin stretching across my collar bones. I let out a breath I am completely aware I was holding and clutch onto his forearms. I should be telling him to stop… “I quite liked you.”

And his lips migrate upwards, meeting mine finally. A guilt so intense dances around my stomach, flirting with excitement and lust as my eyes flutter shut.

I shouldn’t like this…

But I really do. I can’t think of much else. I still don’t know much about how to organise myself in actions such as this one, but Addison makes up for my inexperience. His hands fall to rest on my hips and he’s gripping them and bringing them against his so I feel how much he wants this, and I’m pretty sure he can tell I’m craving him too. I tremble as he embraces me, staying close as possible yet feeling like I should run, because this is just how it began -almost two months ago now; a kiss so inviting I can’t say no.

Do I really want this again?

Addison’s lips leave mine and for a moment I’m stunned. Did he sense what I thought? I lean up, pining for more, as if the few seconds of distance had starved me, but he only tilts his head before he’s crushing me back into the wall. I do want this… That much is clear.

“M-mm, wait--” I mumble against Addison’s lips and push him slightly as I feel his tongue poke at the dip in between my lips.

“Hmm?” The singer leans away, watching me with lidded eyes. I clear my throat, only to point at my cheeks as I chew to demonstrate. “Open your mouth.” I’ve come to realise that Addison is pretty dominant. I do as he says.

Surprisingly, Addison reaches his index finger and thumb into my mouth and picks up the chewed gum from inside my mouth. I watch, speechless, as he holds in in front of his face for a moment before placing it in his own.

My eyes widen; “What are you--?!”

One of Addison’s fingers pushes against my lips to quieten me as he chews thoughtfully before his other hand pulls the shared gum out of his mouth. “You taste way better than this shit.”

As I blush, he proceeds to stick the item on the wall next to my head. I cringe away from it.

“That’s dis-”

I can’t speak. His lips are capturing mine again. They’re kissing from one corner of my lips to another, and suddenly his tongue is flicking at them impatiently, requesting entrance that I’m only too eager to give. And, fuck me, he gives it. It’s every bit as good as I remembered. There’s something swelling in my chest as I’m vaguely aware of myself dropping the bags of milk on the ground as my hands rise subconsciously to cup Addison’s face in my hands.

I’m only vaguely aware of the sounds I’m making as his hips are rubbing tortuously slowly against my own. I can’t think even though I have this heavy nagging feeling inside that this is so wrong, and nothing good can come of it. But, surely, that is a lie? Already there’s some good. The sensations blooming in my chest, my abdomen, causing the part of me made most sensitive by Addison’s actions almost cry out in a pain that is oddly pleasurable.

It feels good. And that’s all I want. Maybe it’s selfish- it is. How venal of me. But I really can’t think about how anyone else might react to the situation. I just want to feel good.

Addison pulls away, and despite the fact that I’d pulled away from him before, I’m deeply agitated by this fact. I’m unaware that I’m pouting until he laughs and touches my tingling lips with his thumb and I let my lips relax as my eyes flutter shut for just a moment. “Open your eyes, Mikey.” His -currently- soft voice is like a drug, and what it has demanded of me the moment I’ve chosen to listen, I have to obey. The effects don’t seem to be wearing off and I’m not sure they do. I suddenly understand the throngs of fans Naught A King have. The hype surrounding Addison. With eyes open, I scan his face. His hair. The way it looks so worked on, yet still holds easily the carefree punk attitude his stance carries. His straight nose- upturned only at the rounded end- screams for model-worthy attention. His cheekbones- God, he seems like the kind who’d have cameras following him everywhere. And, at times, he does. I’m sure I’ve heard Harry mention many a time about how the band would be hanging around in town and a group of people would recognise them and beg for photos with the members, Addison requested more than the rest.

Life of a rockstar.

He runs the smooth skin of his thumb across my tingling lips and looks into my eyes when I finally allow my own to settle on his. I’m a little lost. Why? Because in his forest green orbs lie endless possibilities and adventures I’d never dreamt I would travel on. But whenever I did dream and have my little fantasies, I was on my own. Maybe... Maybe I’d just needed someone. Maybe Addison is going to take me far away.

“Yes,” Addison whispers, his head nearing my own, and when he speaks again his breath touches my skin and I shiver. I‘m shocked, for a moment, wondering if he‘s answering to the statement in my thoughts. “I quite like you, Mikey.”

We kiss a little more, and he warms his ice-cold fingers inside my jacket. Memories slam into me -causing a moan from my mouth as a reflex- when Addison’s teeth find their way onto my neck at one point, and I realise that the weird bruises I’d found on my body were most probably caused by him and his teeth. More disturbing is the fact that the part of me between my legs seems to be keen on that particular detail, and Addison notices.



I’m not really aware of how long we were kissing the way we were, but suddenly Addison pulled away abruptly and checked his phone -which I can only guess had vibrated- and he said he had to go.

“We need to do this again,” he’d said, before stepping away from me completely. I shivered violently as the biting cold infiltrated through the space Addison had left open. I pulled my jacket closer and realised when I heard a snap that my other earphone had fallen out during the whatever-it-was between Addison and I, and I had just, somehow, broken it. “Whoops,” he murmured, eyes still on me.

“What… I mean,” I don’t even know what I’d been about to ask, but Addison had rolled his eyes -and that small gesture alone had crushed my already impaired voice box.

“Don’t be needy, Mikey. I’ll see you again.”

That was it. He’d began to turn out around, and even as I watched him walk away, he was searching himself for his packet of cigarettes. It was only when I could no longer see him through the dark that I moved. I couldn’t feel my fingertips, my nose, my toes, and was certain frostbite wasn’t far off, but there was definitely warmth in my chest somewhere. I took a moment to gather myself- zipped my coat up, crumple my broken earphones and pick up the milk I’d dropped on the ground- before heading back home. When I entered, I handed dad his milk and hurried up to my room before he could ask me to take it to the kitchen.

Now, lying on my bed, I feel sick to the stomach with myself. With the way things occurred. The butterflies have morphed into moths and their eating their way out. I’m mad with insecurities. He’d just walked away. That was it. I wasn’t going to see him again.

“Don’t be needy, Mikey--” Why had I been? He’d told me- I didn’t need to ask further. I needed no more explanation; he’d come back.

My heart is everywhere, and I can feel perspiration easing down the side of my face- I feel sick; why am I thinking about that? Addison is the least of my problems. I shouldn’t be thinking about him when he did this to me. How he’d managed to get me to submit again I just don’t know.

Except, maybe, I do. I'm so low. So disgustingly low. I let him because I liked it.

I'm so low.

What am I going to say to Harry? I can’t. That’s just it, I can’t say anything! Yet I used to talk to Harry all the time. I remember what he’d said a while back; I haven’t talked to him about just life in an age. And I feel like everything I am supposed to be letting out is eating it’s way out of me instead. What just happened with Addison…

I feel cheap.

I curl around and shut my eyes in an attempt to force my thoughts to shut down too, but this is worse. Now, instead of just that one night, I have today’s events flying in, images that feel tangible; so close. Their edges like razors, cutting into my mind’s eye.

I feel dirty.

Hands, still cold from the unforgiving December weather, claw at the skin on my arms as I hear a whiny panting sound that I realise I’m making, and sit up in alarm, afraid. I’m so afraid, terrified, and I feel sick.

A dry heave. My eyes widen; it’s a heave all the same. Bile is churning in my stomach and crawling up my throat, stirred -no doubt- by the fucking moths, and I clamp my hand over my mouth just in time to protect my bed from a splatter of vomit. I feel liquid materialising in my eyes, blurring my vision as I roll off my bed and fall to the floor, muffling sobs. What am I even doing? I wonder. I use my free hand to support my weak legs as they scramble to the bathroom. I ignore the pain shooting from every part of me when I bump against doors and walls and tables and step on a stray Xbox controller. I am all too aware of the fact that my body is painfully numb, and only my throat is burning as I heave and retch into the toilet.

And during this whole thing I’m conscious that there’s something I need… Something is missing--

“Mikey?!” I feel, more than hear, someone enter the bathroom and kneel fairly close to me. “Shall-- do you want me to call dad? Are you okay?” The voice holds panic like a newborn child in each word; careful if handled wrong wailing screams would burst from it. Like a bomb; each step must be cautious. I feel Harry’s hand stroking my back in a circular motion, and he doesn’t stop until all that’s leaving my mouth is globs of spit. My eyes are lidded, powerless to my head dropping sideways onto the toilet seat. Harry’s still talking, tone of voice soothing and hypnotic, but rather than hearing them, I sense the words drifting around me. It’s almost calming.

No, it is. It definitely is.

My gaze drifts lazily to the calendar hanging next to the mirror over the sink, half hidden by Harry’s head, his expression still hosting concern. Yes, a calendar in our bathroom. Dad feels it’s the only time he’s ever relaxed enough to take notice of it. I look at the date that hasn’t been cross out yet; 3rd of December. Today is the third. I giggle, still trapped in a rather sluggish stupor, and it quickly turns into a cough as I choke on something -most probably my own saliva. Of course, Harry is immediately at my aid, and I feel guilt assist in gagging me as a recall what I’ve done, what it would do to him.

I’m crying again. I’m dirty. Pathetic.

I’m grateful when I feel consciousness begin to slip from me. A dream is already materialising in my head; an incredibly lean woman stood in a familiar alley, dressed in too few clothes for the season hanging off her protruding bones. Clothes that would be tight on the average woman sagged off her slender body. Her subtly shaky limbs could have been passed off simply as shivering as a result of the bitter elements, but in truth it was one symptom of her drug withdrawals. A sallow face stared, stony, as she waited. Kept waiting. For that one client she depended one… That one.

The clock is striking a mournful sound // Down in the alley that’s where I’ll be