A/N
SLASH. PG/PG-13 for mentions of drug use and things pertaining to the rave culture.
I'm taking requests.
Enjoy.
The Rave Kid
One thing Riley found out in the last year: he wasn't particularly fond of raves.
The blond wasn't exactly sure when the transition started, when his friends went from innocent, to drug addicted sexual deviants. One second they're laughing about TV shows and hanging out at malls, and the next they're all sneaking into clubs and taking hits of acid.
Well, he wasn't taking the hits, Riley was just observing.
But, it seemed they all took it upon themselves to change as drastically as possible, while the cranky seventeen year old had somehow missed the memo. Now everything was about losing minds and achieving orgasms on a daily basis. Neither of which Riley had any interest in, he liked his brain where it was, and as far as he was concerned: he was very much asexual.
So that became much more of a predicament than he ever thought something like that could be.
His friends were leaving him behind, him, who'd always been the sensible one, always been there for everybody when they needed advice. And for what? A couple hours of cheap thrills and a hang-over-from-hell the next morning. But what was he to do? These were his friends, his group; they were all he'd ever known. Granted, they weren't the most reliable people he'd ever known, lord knows he's cleaned up their vomit more times than he'd cared to admit, but that didn't make them any less what they were. They were familiar, things that he needed to hang onto.
If there was one thing he would never admit to obsessing over, it’s that he needed a constant, he needed at least something to stay the same, other wise—other wise...well, he doesn't really want to think about other wise.
And so he knows that he needs his friends. Even if they don't need him. They were growing apart but he was determined to damn well try and catch up.
That's when he—loosely—adopted the statement: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
Riley clearly remembered the first time they dragged him to a rave. It was a small thing; some kid had slipped a flier in their hands during a hang out session in front of the mall one Thursday night. It was some colorful mess with pictures of dj's and kids dancing. The blond’s first thought was something along lines of: he'd rather strangle himself with his younger brother's fake telephone (equipped with fake telephone cord) while listening to Justin Beiber instead of attending some dinky rave where he'd surely fall perilously to date rape and/or some form of intoxication by night's end.
But his friends...his friends thought it was a great idea, raves were new and unexplored territory—they'd long since adapted an unhealthy obsession with thrills.
Ultimately, it was Riley's friend Lex that had pulled the trigger and convinced him to come, despite how many times he hummed 'Date-Rape' by Sublime. And, really, how could he refuse? He wasn't going to let yet another thing pull them apart. How bad could it be, anyways? Listen to a little shitty techno music, avoid being touched under all circumstances, an hour later they'd leave, friends doped up enough to think they'd stayed an extra six hours, everyone wins.
Yeah, that's what he thought until he actually went there.
After that, all preconceived notions disappeared.
On that first night, he had somehow managed to get his ass kicked. Full out punched in the face, pushed to the ground, and kicked in the stomach. His friends had meanwhile disappeared, even Lexi who'd left through the back door with some mystery guy ten minutes after arriving.
Riley had decided then to stand off in theback and not draw attention to himself, not aware that this was somehow code for: sell me drugs! Guys were coming up to him left and right trying to push E in his face like nobody's business. He refused of course, he wasn't that desperate to fit in with his rebellious friends. Eventually one guy got too pushy though, obviously high himself, demanding that he at least buy weed. Riley refused for the fourth time before the guy was somehow convinced he was looking for a fight and decided it'd be best if he punched the blond in the face.
It's safe to say after that he'd developed an unhealthy taste for the rave subculture, despising shitty electronica that all sounded the same, grinding body’s that were one step away from sex, and anything that even attempted to glow.
And yet, here he was, more than a year later, still crawling raves every weekend like nobody's business.
By now, his lack of dignity seemed repetitive.
"You don't look happy," Lexi observed, taking her eyes off the road for a second longer than Riley would have liked.
"Your point?"
"You never seem happy."
"Then it isn't such a anomaly. No reason to worry."
"Yeah," A girl with pink hair piped up from the backseat, acting as cheerily as ever, which wasn't much of a surprise. "I'd be ten times more worried if Ry had actually cracked a grin. It'd be a sign of the apocalypse."
"Ha. If I were Edgar Allen Poe, I'd write a depressing poem that'd metaphorically kill you—just as much as I'm dying with laughter."
The brunet next to the girl with pink hair—Jade—started laughing. "Burn."
Meanwhile Jade looked highly confused, "Edgar Allen who?"
The teen with dark hair on the other side of Jade snorted. "It doesn't count if she doesn't understand it."
"Not my fault."
Myde and fin were the two guys in the back seat on either side of Jade. From first glance they looked sort of like brothers, the only difference being Myde had brown hair and Fin had black. When they first met in middle school: they were convinced they were long lost twins, demanding their mothers tell them the truth. This didn't stop until the birth certificates had come out and after a third time they'd accused at least one of their parents of having an affair. Shortly after that, they befriended Riley and he still often refers to them as the 'twins.'
Riley met Jade through Lex freshman year of high school. Back then, she didn't have pink hair yet—but that didn't mean the blond didn't find her interesting. It seemed like she had endless energy, going on and on about different subjects during the day that it seemed she could talk herself straight into a black hole. And somehow Lexi had saw fit to try and pair them up. Immediately after that Jade became less 'interesting' and more 'annoying.' as Lex tried all throughout freshmen year to make the two of them a couple. Sophomore year Riley told her he was gay—just to shut her up.
So, then that left Lexi, his oldest friend. She'd been with him for as long as the blond can remember, he and her stuck together through every hard time they'd encountered. Which was all the more reason for Riley not lose her, even if it felt like she was drifting away right in front his hazel eyes.
"Cheer up, Ry." Lexi smiled as they pulled into a parking lot a few blocks away from out destination. "As I recall, you said you half liked warehouse raves."
"Only because it's easier to slip into a corner and not be bothered."
The others got out the back, stretching their legs and chattering on excitedly. Lexi turned to her best friend with a slightly worried expression, shimmering lips pulled into a grim line. "You didn't need to come--you never do. Nobody's forcing you and you know none of them would think any less of you, Ry. We all know you hate these kinds of things."
He did his best to force a smile, shaking his head dismissively. "No, I wanted to come. I don't mind.”
Lies, lies, and more lies.
They made their way over to the slightly booming warehouse—Riley, somewhat reluctantly—grabbing a couple multicolored fliers on the way in. Immediately everybody disappeared from the blond’s sight, just barely catching a glimpse of Lexi’s platinum hair swaying as she lost herself in the crowd.
It was three AM and the rave was in full bloom. All the adventurous preteens—dressed in Hello Kitty Hot Topic shirts while wearing pounds of over done make-up—had already taken their facebook ‘sky view’ pics and hightailed it on home. And most of the ravers were at the peeks of their high, not yet at the 5AM point when the feeling starts to come down and they start hitting rock bottom. Yep, 3AM was somewhere right in the middle, the rave cliques had already formed and Kandi Kids were still giving out ‘party favors.’
That was Riley’s cue to find the nearest corner and look as small as possible.
Kandi Kids were unholy beings, they took over raves with bright clothing (imagine the craziest thing you’d think a clown would wear and that’s a pretty accurate mental image) and insist on wearing enough cheap dollar store bracelets to fill an entireapartment indefinitely. They’re over affectionate whack-jobs that go around handing out glow sticks, candy, and probably sexual favors (or so Riley liked to theorize.)
They were the cuddle-puddle PLUR minions.
P-eace
L-ove
U-nity
R-espect.
Except, they didn’t actually respect personal boundaries.
Even if Riley probably shouldn’t go to raves if that was really an issue for him.
So, he waited in a dark corner for about an hour, sifting through his phone, pretending he was busy, in case anybody tried to bother him. He eventually found a demo of Frogger on his phone and set to play that stupid game like his life demanded it. And the stupid frog kept getting hit by traffic. C’mon you dam green piece of shit! Move—
“Will you be my Mr. Darcy?”
Riley nearly jumped three feet in the air, almost not even noticing as his phone flopped to the ground. He looked up to see a teenager standing in front of him, with dark slightly long hair, looking a bit smug under the pulsating lights.
“Excuse me? Who the hell are you?”
“Your escot for the night. Dance with me?”
“Look, I don’t know what the hell you’re after, buddy, but I don’t want to buy any freaking drugs—”
“Good, I wasn’t trying to sell you any.”
“Well, if you’re looking for some easy date-rape victim, keep moving. I’m sure one of the rainbow freaks would be more than happy to oblige.”
“Ouch. You seem testy,” The guy grinned somewhat softly, coming to stand next to him despite his discomfort. “Had a bad night?”
“No,” He lied. “It was a fabulous night until you came and disrupted it. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
The dark haired boy picked up Riley’s cellphone, looking even more smug than before. “Ah, yeah, I can see how busy you are. Frogger can be quite the responsibility.”
The blond snatched his cellphone back venomously. “Look, what the hell do you want?”
“I already told you—one dance. Then, I promise, I’ll leave alone. You can get back to your riveting game and your fun time in the corner and everything.”
“…Why exactly are you so adamant about dancing with me, of all people?”
He was actually considering this.
“I’ve seen you at other raves, always standing by yourself. And…I guess I think you’re cute. I’ve always wanted to ask, but I never thought it was the right time.”
“And now’s right time?”
The kid held out his hand, looking Riley straight in his eyes. “Now’s the perfect time.”
And by some insane miracle: he took it.
They made their way into the middle of what Riley always deemed as the pit of hell. Sweaty, slobbering kids were rubbing their half covered asses all over each other, dancing to some song that occasionallyhad some chick saying ‘seduce me’ every couple minutes while the beats played.
He felt vulnerable.
Exposed.
Way out of his comfort zone.
But then he felt hands on his hips, gently coaxing his body to sway. “Hey,” He whispered. “Forget them, focus on me. What’s your name?”
“Riley.”
“Riley.” He tested it out. “I’m Brite.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Y’know, I can’t even remember, anymore. I suppose it isn’t…or maybe it is, I don’t really know for sure.”
“Well, that’s comforting.”
Brite merely shrugged, bringing his body closer as the music sped up. He leaned his head in, blowing hot breath into Riley’s ear before whispered, “Tell me why you don’t like raves.”
His brain nearly melted, shivering involuntarily as Brite ground his hips forward. “Cuddles puddles,” He managed to get out. “And E-tards…personal bubbles…stupid seizure inducing glow stick waving...grinding…”
Okay…so maybe he was starting to reconsider the last part.
“You’re thinking too much, that’s the problem. Just let the music synch with the beat of your heart and forget everything else.”
Riley wrapped his arms around Brite's neck as his hands rubbed the blond’s hips. The world became hyper sensitive for awhile as they swayed together as a hot, sweaty mess, feet moving on their own. Brite smelled like cologne mixed with weed, entrancing—intoxicating. But he’s glad it happened to cloud his nose, other wise he thought he’d probably come to his senses and run for the hills.
One of Brite’s hands started sliding up, running along his ribcage, his neck. His cheek. He held it there as Riley’s heart started beating rapidly yelling ‘Mayday, whatever happened to being asexual?!’
The boy leaned in quickly, almost chipping a tooth as the blond’s body—apparently—decided to act on its on and lean in as well. And they kissed sloppily and somewhat messily, mixing too much tongue and too little sense.
(He noted quite briefly, for the first time, that Brite had a tongue piercing. Holy shit.)
And this mystery boy tasted like marijuana and some sort of cherry candy and, god, he’s never tasted anything as good in his life.
Riley decided to retract his earlier statement, then. Sure, he still hated Kandi Kids, cuddle puddles, E-tards, preteens wearing ridiculous clothing taking facebook pics, unnecessary cliques, pointless techno music, and pretty much everything else raves had to offer.
…but he was starting to see the bright-side to random make-out sessions with strangers.
Even ones that think ‘will you be my Mr. Darcy’ is an actual pick-up line.
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