A Boy Is Just A Burden

He smiled at me from across the room, nodding his head in my direction. Not quite sure of what he wanted, I made my way over to him, coming to stand with my hands in my pockets and looking up at him. He was almost a foot taller than me, leaning against the wall with the hint of a smile now playing on his lips. He produced a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his trousers, flipping it open. I watched silently, still not on the clear with why he'd beckoned me over.

"I've got five cigarettes here, though I might smoke one. Then there will be four." The obviousness in his statement was accompanied by a glint in his eye, as he held the packet to me. "Do you smoke?"

"Not really," I said. "Occasionally. I try not to."

He chuckled slightly, looking down on the floor. "Okay, let me rephrase that..." As he looked up he caught my eyes and held them. "Do you want a cigarette?"

I shrugged, but took one and put it between my lips. I felt in my pockets to see if I'd brought the lighter, but of course I hadn't. "Have you..?"

He was smiling again, and held his lighter to me. I put the end of my cigarette to the flame, watching him light his own as I took a drag and blew the smoke out with a sigh. I should never have started smoking in the first place - even if I wouldn't say I was addicted, I didn't say no when someone offered me a cigarette, and would ever so often get my own packet out and have a smoke to relieve stress. It tasted like shit, but it's amazing how much you'll stand at times. I'd stopped coughing at least.

I noticed he was looking at me, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. His brown hair was ruffled and probably in need of a washing. I exhaled slowly, the act having a calming effect on me. Standing there with nothing to say was getting a bit uncomfortable, and I couldn't just walk away. Just as I was about to make an awkward excuse and aimlessly walk away, he tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "I've seen you before, haven't I?"

"You may have," I replied, trying to sound indifferent as I stretched over to the ashtray on the table.

"At Glastonbury, wasn't it? We sat talking all through the night."

"And you played 'Beg, Steal Or Borrow' on your guitar," I confirmed, amazed he even remembered.

"Yeh..." He scratched his nose with one finger. "'Twas nice this year."

I nodded, wondering if he had a point that he'd come to or if he was just making small talk to kill the silence. I flinched as I felt a vibration in my pocket, and quickly got my mobile out, checking the display for a the caller ID before flipping it open. "Hey, Ross. Yeah, no, I'm out. ...Yeah, at a friend's house. ...No, you're not invited, don't try that." I gave him an apologizing look, whereas he nodded and pushed away from the wall. "I'm managing quite well without you, thank you. So you stay where you are. ...No, I don't need a knight in shining armour. You'll just drink beer, anyway. Unsophisticated bastard." I laughed, taking another drag at my cigarette. As I felt a hand on my shoulder, I tried to turn around but was held in place by said hand. "Ross..! Shut up!"

"A boy is just a burden to your heart, your soul, your body, spirit and mind."

The words were mumbled in my ear, a slight rephrasing of the song I'd come to love. The hand slipped off my shoulder, and I heard my friend's voice in my other ear, asking if I was still there. Changing my grip on the phone, preparing to close it, I produced some muddled excuse for hanging up and shut it, ending the call. Turning around, I caught sight of him, now sitting on a chair across the room. He smiled slightly at me, before picking up his guitar, everybody gathering around to listen to him play 'The Lost Art Of Murder'. I joined them, sitting in the outer parts of the crowd, only half of my concentration on the music. A boy is just a burden... Which boy was he referring to? The one who was ever so sweet, trying to summon up the courage to tell me how he felt? Or the one who sat in front of me, who could ignore me for weeks on end only to suddenly give me his attention again, like nothing ever happened?

"What a nice day for a murder
You call yourself a killer, boy
But the only thing you're killing is your time
There's nothing absurder
A bird is just a burden
To you heart, your soul
Your body, spirit and mind..."