This Tragic Affair

I opened my eyes to a dim and blurry existence. After a few long seconds, everything started to come clear, taking shape before my eyes. It was nothing I recognized, but a part of me knew it was safe.

At that point, I noticed there were sheets and covers drawn up to my chin, along with plush pillows supporting my head. Lightly sliding my fingers along what felt light jersey knit sheets, I propped myself up and slowly pushed the covers back around me. I rubbed my eyes and dragged a hand through my hair, trying to clear the last bits of fog from my perception.

Where in the hell was I?

I blinked a few times and leaned forward on my knees, starting to really take in what was around me. The room was dimly lit, so I knew it was either pretty early in the morning or fairly late in the afternoon- just past sunset. I was surrounded by walls the color of the ocean on a cloudy day, and over my head was a high ceiling. To my left, there was a small wooden dresser that had been built to resemble a crate- very Urban Outfitters. The top drawer had been left slight ajar and various belts and bandanas were beginning to spill out. On top were small cluttered stacks of CD’s arranged haphazardly around a small black lamp that didn’t have a lampshade. I picked up the first few cases and flicked through them, recognizing a few like Guns n’ Roses and Avenged Sevenfold. There were a couple that threw me for a loop though, like A Dose of Adolescence. The ones I liked I kept beside me on the bed, which I realized had a black and grey striped comforter over forest green sheets. Just behind the dresser was a closet that had various logos and phrases spray painted and plastered across its doors. Bands and brands mostly. Furthest away from me on the wall was what could only have been the door leading out of the room, which was mostly shut. Directly in from of me was a simple wooden dresser. It had chrome knobs and a square mirror on top of it, which was also plastered with stickers. Hanging on either side of the mirror were four skate decks, each painted with something different- one with crows over a white background, one with some sort of possessed Vampira, one with neon colored Dia de los Muertos mariachis, and one with a simple Vans block letter logo. Situated above the mirror were two guitars.

Two guitars immediately recognizable as the Zacky V an Synyster G customs.

Wherever I was, the mind behind it knew what it was doing.

To my right was a window that displayed a dense layer of fog, letting in a very minimal amount of soft blue-grey light. In the corner there was an ornate red and black overstuffed chair, complete with wooden arm rests and dragon’s feet legs. Situated right next to it was an Alberdi Barcelona acoustic, resting on top of sheaves of what only could have been guitar tabs or lyrics. Curiosity getting the best of me, I picked myself up and made my way cautiously over to shuffle through the papers. Settling myself down on the floor and began to riffle through them, skimming for any songs I recognized. As I was reaching for the papers that were furthest away, I noticed a small pile of clothes on the floor on the other side of the chair. Clothes that looked strangely familiar.

I looked down and realized I wasn’t in my own clothes anymore- the ones on the floor were mine. Draped loosely over me was a faded black Jack Daniel’s tee with the sleeves cut off. It was at least a size too big for me, so the neck line hung lower than it should have and the sleeves brushed against the middle of my rib cage. Underneath that I had on a loose pair of cotton boxer shorts. Thankfully I still had my own undergarments on, but there was I was pretty certain that someone else had put me in these clothes.

Joy.

I hugged my legs tight to my chest and rested my head on my knees, a little shell-shocked at the fact that some one- I didn’t even know who- had seen me in such a vulnerable and exposed state. But there was nothing I could do about it now. I took in a few deep breaths and eventually relaxed, feeling somewhat comforted by the feel of the loose fabric across my skin. It smelled so warm… I stretched my legs out in front of me and fingered the hem of the shirt for a bit, meditating on the idea that I was in this foreign place.

Well, really I was thinking about how much it felt like home. I thought it strange that I could take comfort in something I didn’t even know. And that was fascinating to me.

My fingers paused for a moment as I looked up, noticing from across the floor that that the door had been edged open. My eyes trailed up the pajama-covered legs that were leaning in the doorway, up a muscular white tee shirt, coming to rest on a shaggy black head of hair and a pair of silver snakebites.

“Hey.” It was barely more than a whisper, but it still managed to hit me. I dropped the hem of the shirt and instinctively wrapped my arms around myself, my legs curling up under me. I pressed myself against the wall as he took a few steps toward me.

“Ronnie…“ My lips parted in the start of a few shaky words, but he just settled himself on the edge of the bed, leaned forward onto his knees, and held a hand up.

“No words yet, alright?” he said in a low and sleepy voice. “Just listen.”