Silverfish

New Waves

"I actually am not sure you're gonna like this, but just keep an open mind okay? And if you want to leave that's fine, just let me know," he says, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I keep my attention fixed outside of the window, watching all of the passing houses and people: unaware and yet so inclined, "As long as its not metal, I think I'll be okay don't worry."

He laughs lightly again, something that was becoming quite endearing,"Nah, not this time. This is a friend of mine's place. I don't know who's playing tonight but it's probably not gonna be metal."

I nod, continuing to restlessly mess with my fingers as a poor attempt at containing my anxiety. And so far it proved to be working–somewhat–but regardless of my consuming endeavors, I could still barely fucking breathe.

Perhaps it was just because I was so out of control in this situation, I had no idea what were to happen or how Gabe felt about me. I was certain of my feelings for him, of course, but his even demeanor was a bit harder to read. Friends acted this way towards each other, but then so did boyfriends? God, it would be so much easier to comprehend if we were opposing sexes, which is a terrible conclusion to draw.

But that was an entirely differing issue to face, unfortunately.

❧

We arrive a few minutes later, ending up in a part of town my mother would deem "dangerous": sofas and other random pieces of furniture dispersed throughout the front yards of the neighborhood, as well as an overwhelming smell of pot saturating the air.

I didn't mind it though–or at least I attempted to convince myself not to–and rather held my attention towards Gabe, who seemed to harness a kind of enthusiasm I wish I had.

"Come on, I can here them playing already!" He says quickly, sliding out of the front seat and jogging over to my side to let me out again.

Of course I felt myself flush again, jumping out of the car and following him up the side walk to the aged white panel house before us. It was sort of comforting, in an odd and run-down way. Lazy palm trees leant up against the sides, gently resting against the old wood and red clay roof. I caught myself staring for far too long at the energetic scene, which of course cause Gabe to grab my forearm with a bit of potency, pulling me inwards with him.

He introduces me to his friends who own the house briefly before leading me to the backyard area where the stage was, pushing past all of the smoke and people.

Gabe commented on various little things happening around us as if I needed some sort of encouragement to have a good time, which admittedly, I sort of did.

But this subtle encouragement I received from him–which actually happened to be not so subtle in nature–was very much responsible for what I was doing here.

Because never in my entire, seemingly rigid life would you ever place me here. But it was all because of Gabe, and despite my abjections towards whatever preconceived notions I consumed before coming here, I was actually enjoying myself. Perhaps it was because he was by my side, definitely enjoying it more than I was, but regardless, his happiness seemed to be my happiness now.

That, of course, scared the fuck out of me as well.

I never wanted to be reliant on anything–or anyone–besides my very own intelligence, so this terribly comforting feeling lingering in my chest when I am in his company sparked a great amount of consternation. Why is it so fucking hard to just enjoy my time spent with him instead of torturing myself with my own thoughts? Recently it's been like a constant battle between my heart and my mind and I'm not entirely sure of the outcome.

Blatant yelling forcefully pulls me out of myself followed by glass breaking and suddenly I am shoved to the ground. I look up to find two guys fighting each other in the middle of the crowd. One appears to be doing a lot better than the other, and eventually the "weaker" one is knocked to the ground as well, stumbling a few times before falling right on top of me.

I hit my head with a concerning amount of force against the clay ground, black and white spots flashing across my eyes. The music began to slow down and become fuzzy as did my consciousness. My eyelids get heavy and staying awake appeared more challenging by the second. I allow myself to slip into the black and close my eyes, letting everything about me dissipate into nothing.

I can hear a familiar voice screaming desperately at my side, and for a brief moment I break out of the dark and meet my weak gaze with Gabe's. His eyebrows furrowed together in calamity as he continues to say something to me.

I couldn't hear him.

Instead I fixated on his long, amber hair, reaching out towards it, "I really like your hair."

He goes silent for a second, his eyes flashing off, away from mine as if to process what exactly I had just said. What did I say?

A few seconds later he grabs me by either of my shoulders and lifts me up towards himself, dragging me away from the crowd with him.

He leads me inside the house and into what appeared to be a very overused bathroom. At this point I am becoming more and more aware of everything going on around either of us, but I still feel as though I could abscond away into my mind at any second. To slip into that oddly appealing dark.

This is what I imagine drugs to be like: that dangerously wonderful lack of control.

Gabe shuts the door behind us and presses me up against the stained pink bathroom countertop, "Hey, can you hear me?"

My eyes meet with his again and I nod sloppily, "Yes of course I can."

I grin at him in such a seemingly uncontrollable way, feeling woozy but also feeling, jovial? It was liberating.

He offers me a small yet inclined smile back, "How are you feeling?"

I get the sudden impulse to touch him so I throw my hands out and rest them on his shoulders, staring back at him with a foreign kind of confidence, "I am good, really good. Just tired, but I'm awake."

"Good, good," he chuckles, ignoring my lazy and uncalled for grasp, "I'm gonna fucking kill those guys I swear. This kind of shit always happens, even at a reggae party."

I find myself leaning closer and closer to him, not at all trying to stop it. And he wasn't as well. Either that, or he didn't notice.

I'll assume the latter.

My head suddenly feels extremely heavy as it drops down, the only thing keeping myself from not completely falling onto the floor was him.

"You okay?" He asks again.

"Yeahhh," I reply slowly, letting myself slip further and further down.

However, he stops me, and tilts my head upwards with his fingertips.

I smile again as he brushes the hair out of my eyes, "Thanks for helping me. Sorry I'm a pussy and I can't handle this type of..scene."

He shakes his head at me in disregard and speaks softly, "It's not you, it's them."

I close my eyes again and exhale deeply, expecting to drift into that blurring night again. It was so consuming, yet so free. Perhaps that's how I felt with Gabe, an endearing plight.

Suddenly I feel his hot breath on my lips but I do not open my eyes. I know my mind with consequently demolish this moment for myself, so instead, I allow him to take control.

"I'm going to kiss you," he tells me, barely audible.

I laugh lightly, "I figured."

And without another word he presses his lips to mine, holding my head gently, leaning into me with that same reverent motivation. I felt everything with a light and airy disposition; every emotion, every goddamn feeling.

This is the most free I have ever felt in my entire life.