Tiny Dancer {Jalex}

Tiny Dancer on repeat.

Alextrashskarth: oh my god

Alextrashskarth: fuck

Alextrashskarth: shit

Doublejoeseven: did you really think I didn't know?

Alextrashskarth: positive.

Doublejoeseven: are you kidding the whole bar could hear you too fucking like dogs, man.

Alextrashskarth: shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Doublejoeseven: aside from the whole joint getting and earful of what really happened in brokeback mountain, you're secret is safe with me, dude. I wouldn't out my favourite band member and weed customer.

Alextrashskarth: you're being way too nice ?!¿¿

Doublejoeseven: ok fine I don't want my reputation being spoiled by 'trading weed to a fag.' Are you satisfied??

Alextrashskarth: yes.

Despite knowing that he really meant what he said in the first place, he likes to keep things manly. He's like my rock, and that's probably why he's my friend sometimes.

I start to look back on both of the nights with Jack, the fist one was soft slow and very, very oral. The alleyway included more biting, dominating and some definite sodomy. I enjoyed the alleyway far more, but maybe because we had more of a connection in conflict. Whilst reminiscing on last night, how could I not keep my hands out of my pants. I continue without lube, dry dogging my way to climax. By this point it was probably about 4:00 and straight away my mind goes to wandering what Jack is doing right at this moment. Practicing his Tour en l'air Probably In dance class or maybe, by now, at home. Of course there's also the option of him taking shot from his brother and his friends. God, I hope not that's the last think I want for Jack: more conflict. Again, I hope on IM soon remembering that Jack never game me his username. The options of what to do now roll through my head like a roulette wheel. It stops on "lie in bed and listen to music." So that's what I did for the rest of the afternoon and evening, and eventually, night. I sat on my bed, listening to the playlist I made of songs called "relatable." So I shuffle the playlist and as I lay there the first few songs played "I miss you," by blink-182 "have you ever seen the rain," by that one guy and then it strikes me. The most relatable song on that playlist I thought could never relate to me in my life ever. That's when I hear the piano keys and Elton John sing the first line of the verse and before I knew it I was listening to tiny dancer.

  "blue jean baby, LA lady. Seamstress for the band."

That particular part of the song, however, is not the part I relate to the most. The chorus just reminds me of Jack. Everything I do, every thing Elton says just reminds me of him. My eyes are starting to expel liquid. What is this? How am I expressing emotion? I never express emotion. So here I am. Mr Alexander William Gaskarth, resident of Baltimore, Maryland, a 16 year old crying because of a 15 year old, who isn't even legal, expressed in an Elton John song. I am a mess. But this mess is going to try and get some rest, so eventually I fall asleep with my clothes on listening to tiny dancer on repeat.