Trying to Escape the Inevitable

I was dead wrong. Mikey was worse than a bad guy, and I would definitely be using him as inspiration for my next villain concept.
Come out with meeee, I’ll buy you coffeeeee, I mocked.
What a load of shit. He neglected to tell me until I was already on my way to meet him that he wouldn’t be able to make it tonight; something something about Ray needing help with his car. I didn’t recall him even having a car, but what the hell do I know? I can barely pay attention to what’s right in front of me, never mind what has so far been an intangible object.

So here I am, alone, walking through knee-deep snow to get to a show I would want nothing to do with if it weren’t for my brother. I’m literally shaking in my boots, and I have to pull my scarf closer around the lower half of my face to avoid frostbite. Luckily, it muffles my frustrated muttering, so the people I pass by don’t think I’m some lunatic spewing angry words at someone who isn’t there. Thank God for small favors, I guess.After a few additional minutes of freezing my ass off, I begin to see the glow of the halogen lights that read “Boot & Saddle”, the ‘t’ flickering just enough so that it reads “Boo”. I chuckle, wondering whether whoever is playing tonight is going to be scary, bad, or both. If they’re playing in Belleville, NJ, I imagine they’re a mixture of the two.
Regardless, the warmth that embraces me when I step through the door is heavenly, and I can feel the tension in my body dissipate almost immediately, that is, until I remember I’m here alone and have to not seem as awkward as I feel.
Easiest solution: booze.
I beeline for the bar, snagging an empty stool as far removed as possible. Hopefully I can just slunk back here and drink until the show is over, and I can successfully shut Mikey up. I order a Blue Moon because I like my beer fruity (like me) and scan the scene in front of me. The bar is dark, but people are flocking around the glow of the rickety stage, kind of like insects to a porchlight, though I think I’d rather face an insect than any of them. These kids are covered in tattoos, piercings, and an aura that screams fuck off. Mikey you big bully. How do you expect me to survive in a place like this?

I consider turning around and heading back home, but my attention is caught by three burly men wandering on stage, making their way immediately to their instruments, beers in hand. I watch as the drummer picks up his sticks and adjusts his cymbal a little to his left. The other two throw their straps over their heads and begin to strum and pick a few chords. Instead of heading towards the door, I find myself pushing my way to the middle of the crowd, immersed in the hum and whir of the distorted sounds leaving the battered amps. The people smelled even weirder than they looked, but I left that thought behind as the buzz grew louder and louder, suggesting the show was about to start. After what seemed like an eternity of a sensational overload, a man walked, no, sauntered onto the stage.
Cigarette smoke curled from the stick burning its way down to his fingers, and with one last huff, he tosses it at his feet, stomping it out with a tattered pair of Doc Martens. His head turns to his friends behind him, who take the hint. The mindless whirl of noise immediately evolves into a neat and aggressive guitar solo, followed by a sudden clash of instruments, each person immediately throwing themselves into the set. The singer is the last to the party, but slides in with a sultry attack on the microphone.

I have this reoccurring dream, you make it hard for me to breathe…

I can’t seem to focus on any particular thing. My eyes are caught by the lights, the movement, the overall scene of sweat and aggression.

I gave you everything I could, I gave up everything I own…

The lights are too bright and contrast against the dark of the connecting room. The men on stage are starting to bounce a little and the kids around me are getting pushy.

And when you smile it’s not for me, you offer bitter sympathy…

My senses are practically overloading, but my gaze continues to slip towards the man up front. The room is practically centered on him, his demeanor demanding attention and admiration.

Your grasp far exceeds your reach
The shaved blonde sides of his hair are a stark contrast to the shine of black on top, which curls messily in front of his face. I think I see the light catch something in his nose, but I’m unsure. Unfortunately I don’t rest until my curiosity is satisfied, so I hope the lights and shadows make him unable to see the creep in the crowd staring him down.

I wake up this is not a dream…

The singer’s aggression doubles at the next verse and he’s screaming into the mic. The kids around me go from pushy to violent, throwing their bodies in whatever direction gravity will take them. My brain doesn’t send theMOVE, DUMB ASSmessage to my body fast enough and I’m thrown into the guy next to me, my precious beer spilling over both him and myself. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice, or is already accustomed to it, because in another situation I think he’d beat me to a pulp. I wait for the annoyance of someone having touched me (or thrown me, rather), but it doesn’t come. A slight smile pushes its way to my lips and I allow myself to be swept away by the push and pull of the crowd.
The screaming dies down, and the man I had lost sight of in the excitement jumps down from the stage, landing directly in front of me. A wave of hands push their way to touch him, the movement forcing me practically right up against him. From this angle I can see that the shiny object in his nose was indeed a nose ring and,is that a lip ring too??He must notice me staring at his lips, as he smirks at me while he continues to sing:

I have this reoccurring dream, you admit that you’re not happy,

I force myself to be brave and glance up at the man pressed uncomfortably against me. His face is riddled with sweat, but at this point I couldn’t care less. More importantly are the hazel colored doe eyes that are rimmed in a soft red eyeshadow. I feel a sudden lack of air as my breath hitches. He’s gorgeous. A noticeable heat rises to my cheeks as I become aware that he hasn’t looked away since he hurdled himself off stage. There’s a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, along with what seems to be his signature smirk, and I wonder if anyone ever knows what this guy is going to do next.

I know that you will never leave, you’re here just to torment me…

With those last words lingering in the air, he grabs my face with both hands and presses a rough kiss directly on my lips, almost like he’s making a promise.
After a blissful (what? Gross!) second he pulls away, sending me a wink as he’s pulled back towards the stage and is surrounded by another group of handsy people. For a moment I’m too shocked to move, but the decision is taken out of my hands when I am once again thrown back and forth against bodies pounding on the trash-laden floor.
Fuck fuck fuck. What!? Was that real or do I have a concussion after being thrown like rag-doll for a measly 10 minutes?
Either way, Mikey was in trouble.

Notes

Hello frens,

Chapter 2 only took me like a day and a half but here it is. I hope it's not too jumbled but I was really excited to write about something I've experienced.
+minor frerard so you're welcome haha :)

Anyways,
thanks a bunch for reading, please feel free to comment, complain, or whatever.

xoxo ghoul