Love & Hate and Friends & Lovers (Zouis/Larry)

1. Masters of Hardcore

“What time will you be home?” my mother yells at me from the living room.

“Sometime!” I scream back at her. She always asks, like every caring mother would do, how late I’ll be back. Only, the time doesn’t really matter to her anymore. By now she knows that I always party till the morning hours.
“Have fun! Hakkûh!”

“Haha, will do,” I laugh before closing the front door.

I walk to my bike, thinking about my family. Even if I sometimes hate my father, can’t stand my little brother or think my mother worries too much, most of the time I’m thankful. We are like a normal family, in a standard house with an average income. I don’t have anything to complain about it.

“Hello Lou!” the neighbor waves at me as she takes the garbage out.

While I step on my bike, ready to go, I wave back and smile at her. I like Helena. She is a nice woman without any judgment about me. And believe me; it’s unique for someone like me. A lot of people have judgments whenever they see me. They have called me all different kinds of names. Mostly they call me a racist. I try not to listen to it, I try to ignore it, but sometimes I fail. It’s quite painful to hear people calling you awful names, it can really hurt.

The reason people call me a racist is because I’m a gabber. They associate being a gabber with being a racist and why? Because I listen to hardcore music, am proud of my country, wear Maxxies (Nike Air Max Shoes), shaved the sides of my head and because I wear sporty outfits. People assume just because of those trades, that I’m a racist. This is bullocks. I just love hardcore music and have a group of friends with whom I share this passion.

It’s been several years that I’m utterly in love with the music. I still can’t have enough of it. I still crave for the music and everything that comes along with it. This probably has a lot to do with my age. I’m only seventeen. This is totally crap sometimes, because for a lot of parties you have to be at least eighteen. I have a fake ID, but that doesn’t always work. Apparently I have a childish look on me, even if I look pretty rugged if I say so myself. Apart from the occasional rejection at the entrance of a party; it is the most amazing feeling in the world. I want to drag every single person to a hardcore party. First of all I think that a lot of the assumptions and prejudices will stop. People can finally see with their own eyes that most of us are just trying to enjoy life. Secondly there is absolutely nothing like it. The atmosphere is so unique, so amazing. You can never understand how it feels unless you have been to one of them.

Across the bridge, second street to the left, the first street to the right: The Alinstreet, number nineteen. Arrived. I step off my bike and lock it.

“Hey Lou, I was already waiting for you,” Harry greets me as he walks over to me and kisses me on the mouth. It’s a soft kiss on my lips.

“Hey Hazza, how are you?”

“I’m fucking great! Look at my shoes,” Harry says happily, beaming like a five year old.

I look down at his shoes and smile. He has a new pair of Maxxies. The shoes are black, but on the outside there are red-white-blue stripes: the Maxx Air Holland.

“Nice! But you already have so many Maxxies, better buy those shoes for me from now on,” I say teasingly.

Harry laughs along with me. He knows I don’t mean it. I don’t want any present from Harry.

Although… that is not entirely true. A few years ago he bought me a beautiful necklace. It’s a simple silver necklace with a very small, light blue heart. When he gave that to me he said that it reminded him of my eyes. The heart symbolized the love he has for me and the big place I have in his heart.