Secondhand

The stranger beside me must have felt me staring, because his head snapped in my direction.

“Can I help you?”

“I, uh, no. Are You alright?”

I don't know why I had asked him that. He just had an air about him that just seemed angry.

“I'm just peachy,” he replied, before getting to his feet and walking away.

I wanted to follow him, but more than that, I wanted to hold him close and tell him that whatever is wrong will be okay soon. I didn't even know this mystery guy's name. However, I do know that I haven't given a second thought to any other guy until know. I guess Juliette was right, sort of.

With a mostly dried shoe, I returned back inside to find the ridiculous, gypsy soul that was Juliette. I found her at the same table we had occupied earlier, but she was not alone. Across from her sat a well-built, blonde man who reminded me of Kurt Cobain facially. This guy was much less scruffy though, and seemed to carry himself with an overflowing amount of confidence. They were talking and I could tell by how intrigued in the conversation she was, that Juliette liked this guy.

I approached the table, quickly catching both of their attention.

“Oh, Alan! You're back. Did your shoe dry off?”

“Yeah, mostly.”

“Good. Well, this is Damon. He's in one of the bands that are playing later tonight. Damon, this is Alan, my best friend.”

I smiled a little and shook his extended hand.

I think I saw you outside. You were behind the bar with one of the guys from another band, right?”

“Probably. I stepped in beer and went to dry my shoe off. Do you know that guy's name?”

Juliette had an eyebrow raised at my mentioning, and also taking any interest, in a guy.

“Nope. All I know is that he's in his current band because the last one he was in, he got kicked out of. He's a really pissed off guy. I guess I'd be pissed off, too, if I were him. Most people don't like him.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because he's a fag.”

I fumed with rage at the use of the demeaning nickname that I had been called so many times. Before I could say anything else, Juliette spoke up.

“What did you just call him?”

“A fag. He is.”

“Leave. Right now.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I said leave.”

“What did I do?”

“Alan here, is what assholes such as yourself would call a 'fag.' It's rude. Now, go.”

“Sure explains the interest then. I should have guessed the reason why you were so curious about him. Maybe you should go look for him. It's probably been a long time since he's gotten any, so maybe he'd be desperate enough to want someone like you.”

Juliette was so upset, smoke should have been pouring out of her ears as Damon walked away. I, on the other hand, was on the verge of tears.

“I'm just going to go. Don't try to come with me.”

“But Al-”

“No, Jules. Please stay here and see if you can find out the guys name?”

“”Fine. I'm so sorry, Al.”

“It's fine. You couldn't have known.”

She stood and we hugged before I exited the bar. Once I was outside, I took a few deep breaths and ran a hand through my unruly mess of orange hair.

I headed in the direction of my home. Closing my eyes as I walked, I tried to keep my composure. All of a sudden, I felt two large hands cover both my eyes and mouth. I tried to scream, though I knew the effort would be fruitless. The attempt seemed to have angered the attackers. I felt one of them punch me in the stomach and all oxygen left my body, causing me to fall to the ground.

Though we were still in the middle of the sidewalk, they gagged and blindfolded me, restraining my arms and legs. Uselessly, I tried to stand, to escape. My arms and legs were bound together then. I knew that trying to free myself was completely pointless. My only hope was someone coming this way from the bar.

Instead of taking me away once I was completely bound, my captors punched and kicked me mercilessly. I could feel myself about to black out, but I could also hear footsteps on the pavement and they were quickly coming in this direction.

My rescuer shoved away the person who had been kicking at my stomach and they must have both just run off together, knowing they could get caught if they tried to fight back. Whoever was saving me must be pretty intimidating. From what I had to judge on, the two people who had attacked me were fairly large.

Once I could not hear their footsteps anymore, I heard my rescuer come towards me and crouched down to my level. He, I'm guessing it was a he, untied the cloth that had been harshly shoved into my mouth and I coughed violently, gasping for air. Strangely, he moved to my legs next and removed whatever had bound me at the ankles. He then carefully untied my wrists from each other. At last, he uncovered my eyes and I blinked slowly, trying adjust to the light of the street, I cringed as I did so, knowing that tomorrow this would hurt worse and I would probably have a black eye. Regardless of the pain, I tried to see who it was that had saved me. My body had been strained too much, though. I blacked out, plunging into an oddly colorful darkness with no clue who my hero was.