Baby I've Got My Eye On You
Eighteen
Over the next couple of weeks my relationship with Brian blossomed in a way that I found very surprising. Whilst I can’t deny that our relationship was very much based on spontaneity and flirtatious fun, the seriousness that was developing – and rather rapidly – often made me feel quite out of place, but lucky all the same. By this time, I had realised we were much more than just a fling and was surprised how protective Syn would get over me: I went out with him and the guys a lot more, especially considering how Beth was now seeing Zacky, and whatever bar or club we went into, Brian would constantly have an arm around me, telling any guy who even came close to approaching me to “Back the fuck off”.
“You don’t have to worry about me all the time you know?” I said to him after the 567866756th time it happened, but he just gave me his classic smile and kissed my forehead.
As for my parents, I hadn’t heard from them in weeks now. My Dad had left a disgruntled message on the machine a few days after my birthday, but it was kind of hard to understand him, and according to Zacky, he sounded like he was “steaming like a trouser-press”. Beth frowned at the comment, saying that our Dad was never a big drinker, but all the while I kept thinking that Zacky was right, he did sound drunk, and what worried me more was that we hadn’t heard from our mother at all.
After continuous nights of me staying over at Brian’s house, he turned to me and insisted he should stay over at mine. I didn’t have a problem with this, except from the fact that my bedroom was very much…adolescent. It was the smallest room in the house aside from the bathroom and cluttered top to bottom with useless shit. Hoarding crap was one of my worst habits, the shelving in my room was completely consumed by keepsakes and things that I hadn’t the heart or energy to throw away; quite the opposite to my sister, who kept everything neat and orderly.
I knew exactly what Brian would say the minute he stepped a foot in the doorway, and unsurprisingly I was right.
“You have a lot of …stuff, don’t you”
“It’s not stuff” I told him, “It’s shit”
“Well… yeah” he laughed, picking up a random object from one of the shelves, trying to identify what the hell it actually was. I didn’t even know, and couldn’t actually remember why I had kept it.
He smirked, looking over the posters that were pasted all over the walls.
“Don’t laugh” I warned him, but he did anyway, and I wasn’t surprised.
“You’re such a teenage girl, Roz” he said pointing at a poster of Johnny Depp
“Everyone loves Johnny Depp” I said, shrugging innocently.
“More than me?”
“Maybe a little”
“I’m hotter than Johnny Depp” he stated, standing next to the poster, attempting to do a similar pose.
“Sure you are,” I said with a grin, hoping to tease him up a little.
“If Johnny Depp walked through the door, who would you choose? Me or him?” I found it amusing how seriously he was taking this and took the opportunity to take my time answering.
“Hmmmmmmm…”
“I can feel my balls getting fucking smaller by the second here” he said impatiently and I laughed, a little shocked about how much reassurance Synyster Gates needed.
“You of course you silly man” I said, ending his frustration.
“HA! I knew it. In your face Depp!” he said poking the poster, “I think you should take this poster down and replace it with a picture of me to symbolise my victory”
“I’m so not taking it down”
“If you don’t take it down I’ll search out your secret diary and read it”
“I don’t have a secret diary” I laughed
“I bet you do”
“I bet I don’t”
“I bet it’s covered with loadsa pink hearts with my name inside ’em”
“Oh my god. My deep dark secret is unveiled” I said rolling my eyes, “I need to use the bathroom I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything”.
Stepping in to the small tiled room, I immediately stretched my arms over the sink, looking into the mirror that was placed above it; what I saw startled me a little. Not because I looked horrific, or with the usual monotonous, tired rings that nearly always circled my eyes. Not because I had found that my hair appeared out of place or an intrusive red spot has lurking in a painfully obvious place. What shocked me was far from the usual flaws that punched into my confidence, infact, to a normal mentality, what I saw would not have been surprising at all. I was smiling.
Though this might sound trivial, the very image staring back at me was something I saw for my self very rarely, and said a thousand words in reference to what Brian had done to me. Overall, my once torn little mind was struggling to find a fault with what I saw in the glass, sure it wasn’t perfect but…I Brian liked what he saw, and for the first time in my life…so did I.
Exiting the bathroom I slammed the door shut, only to hear it’s sound echoed by the sharp voice of what sounded like shattering glass. My immediate instinct that was Syn had done the exact opposite of what I’d told him and had broken something in my room. I rolled my eyes in annoyance, though in reality I knew I wouldn't be mad at him even if it were on of my most prized possessions.
“Synyster Gates. What does ‘Don’t touch anything’ mean to you!?” I said, walking into my room, but Syn was still sat on the bed, a look of puzzlement slapped over his face.
I surveyed my room in a quick glance and found nothing broken or out of place, thus giving my face a similar expression to Brian’s.
“Did you hear that sou-” I could barely finish my sentence before I was interrupted by a deep and ominous grumble from down stairs. Brian must have heard it too as he quickly jumped up from his seated position on the bed and stood next to me by the door.
“It can’t be Beth” I whispered, “Her and Zacky will still be at the cinema at this time”
Syn said nothing, but nodded and poked his head out of the room as if this would allow him to inspect the ground floor.
The grumbling suddenly became louder, like the moans of a fat beached whale and I grabbed hold of Brian’s hand instinctively.
“Wait here” he said protectively as he crept down the staircase to see who was there. My heart was hammering away in my rib cage as I watched him go: the thought of a brake-in in my own home terrified me, sparking the return of the resentment I felt for my parents for assuming Beth and I would be able to handle these sorts of awful situations on our own.
“Uh, Roz?” I heard Brian yell from the kitchen. I responded quickly by darting down the stairs to his side.
When I saw the intruder, I felt that deep heartbeat swell in to a lump in my throat, ready to throw up. What I saw in many respects was an alien image, the sprawled body of a grown man, red faced and tarnished in bruises and traces of tears. An image of a broken man, with out a doubt, lying among the fragments of a broken vase he had shattered on entrance, yet his hair and attire were unmistakable. The typical brown suit, white creased shirt and dark red tie that hung like a noose around his neck. As I stared at him lying in a puddle of whisky, I realised how alike we were: I said that my father was never a big drinker… yet today…we’re both just a shining example of well-known phrase – ‘people change’.
“You don’t have to worry about me all the time you know?” I said to him after the 567866756th time it happened, but he just gave me his classic smile and kissed my forehead.
As for my parents, I hadn’t heard from them in weeks now. My Dad had left a disgruntled message on the machine a few days after my birthday, but it was kind of hard to understand him, and according to Zacky, he sounded like he was “steaming like a trouser-press”. Beth frowned at the comment, saying that our Dad was never a big drinker, but all the while I kept thinking that Zacky was right, he did sound drunk, and what worried me more was that we hadn’t heard from our mother at all.
After continuous nights of me staying over at Brian’s house, he turned to me and insisted he should stay over at mine. I didn’t have a problem with this, except from the fact that my bedroom was very much…adolescent. It was the smallest room in the house aside from the bathroom and cluttered top to bottom with useless shit. Hoarding crap was one of my worst habits, the shelving in my room was completely consumed by keepsakes and things that I hadn’t the heart or energy to throw away; quite the opposite to my sister, who kept everything neat and orderly.
I knew exactly what Brian would say the minute he stepped a foot in the doorway, and unsurprisingly I was right.
“You have a lot of …stuff, don’t you”
“It’s not stuff” I told him, “It’s shit”
“Well… yeah” he laughed, picking up a random object from one of the shelves, trying to identify what the hell it actually was. I didn’t even know, and couldn’t actually remember why I had kept it.
He smirked, looking over the posters that were pasted all over the walls.
“Don’t laugh” I warned him, but he did anyway, and I wasn’t surprised.
“You’re such a teenage girl, Roz” he said pointing at a poster of Johnny Depp
“Everyone loves Johnny Depp” I said, shrugging innocently.
“More than me?”
“Maybe a little”
“I’m hotter than Johnny Depp” he stated, standing next to the poster, attempting to do a similar pose.
“Sure you are,” I said with a grin, hoping to tease him up a little.
“If Johnny Depp walked through the door, who would you choose? Me or him?” I found it amusing how seriously he was taking this and took the opportunity to take my time answering.
“Hmmmmmmm…”
“I can feel my balls getting fucking smaller by the second here” he said impatiently and I laughed, a little shocked about how much reassurance Synyster Gates needed.
“You of course you silly man” I said, ending his frustration.
“HA! I knew it. In your face Depp!” he said poking the poster, “I think you should take this poster down and replace it with a picture of me to symbolise my victory”
“I’m so not taking it down”
“If you don’t take it down I’ll search out your secret diary and read it”
“I don’t have a secret diary” I laughed
“I bet you do”
“I bet I don’t”
“I bet it’s covered with loadsa pink hearts with my name inside ’em”
“Oh my god. My deep dark secret is unveiled” I said rolling my eyes, “I need to use the bathroom I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything”.
Stepping in to the small tiled room, I immediately stretched my arms over the sink, looking into the mirror that was placed above it; what I saw startled me a little. Not because I looked horrific, or with the usual monotonous, tired rings that nearly always circled my eyes. Not because I had found that my hair appeared out of place or an intrusive red spot has lurking in a painfully obvious place. What shocked me was far from the usual flaws that punched into my confidence, infact, to a normal mentality, what I saw would not have been surprising at all. I was smiling.
Though this might sound trivial, the very image staring back at me was something I saw for my self very rarely, and said a thousand words in reference to what Brian had done to me. Overall, my once torn little mind was struggling to find a fault with what I saw in the glass, sure it wasn’t perfect but…I Brian liked what he saw, and for the first time in my life…so did I.
Exiting the bathroom I slammed the door shut, only to hear it’s sound echoed by the sharp voice of what sounded like shattering glass. My immediate instinct that was Syn had done the exact opposite of what I’d told him and had broken something in my room. I rolled my eyes in annoyance, though in reality I knew I wouldn't be mad at him even if it were on of my most prized possessions.
“Synyster Gates. What does ‘Don’t touch anything’ mean to you!?” I said, walking into my room, but Syn was still sat on the bed, a look of puzzlement slapped over his face.
I surveyed my room in a quick glance and found nothing broken or out of place, thus giving my face a similar expression to Brian’s.
“Did you hear that sou-” I could barely finish my sentence before I was interrupted by a deep and ominous grumble from down stairs. Brian must have heard it too as he quickly jumped up from his seated position on the bed and stood next to me by the door.
“It can’t be Beth” I whispered, “Her and Zacky will still be at the cinema at this time”
Syn said nothing, but nodded and poked his head out of the room as if this would allow him to inspect the ground floor.
The grumbling suddenly became louder, like the moans of a fat beached whale and I grabbed hold of Brian’s hand instinctively.
“Wait here” he said protectively as he crept down the staircase to see who was there. My heart was hammering away in my rib cage as I watched him go: the thought of a brake-in in my own home terrified me, sparking the return of the resentment I felt for my parents for assuming Beth and I would be able to handle these sorts of awful situations on our own.
“Uh, Roz?” I heard Brian yell from the kitchen. I responded quickly by darting down the stairs to his side.
When I saw the intruder, I felt that deep heartbeat swell in to a lump in my throat, ready to throw up. What I saw in many respects was an alien image, the sprawled body of a grown man, red faced and tarnished in bruises and traces of tears. An image of a broken man, with out a doubt, lying among the fragments of a broken vase he had shattered on entrance, yet his hair and attire were unmistakable. The typical brown suit, white creased shirt and dark red tie that hung like a noose around his neck. As I stared at him lying in a puddle of whisky, I realised how alike we were: I said that my father was never a big drinker… yet today…we’re both just a shining example of well-known phrase – ‘people change’.