he plays guitar like hendrix, you find out, watching him play on stage, twanging the strings with a lit cigarette between his lips. no person is as effortlessly cool as him. its irritating, and youre envious of course.
the cherry of his cigarette smolders and glows, the amp growling as his hand slams down on the strings. his eyes meet yours. he smirks over his cigarette, smoke blowing out of his mouth.
a heavy, all-consuming feeling presses its hands down on your chest and squeezes. you look away, you dont know why, but you do. you have to.
"what was your first impression of me?"
you crack open an eyelid. "easy, you were the coolest person ever."
"i really wasnt."
"yeah, you were." both your eyes are open now, "you were easy to talk to and you had great hair, plus you had a plymouth superbird."
"i had great hair?"
"yeah," you shut your eyes again. "but that was nothing compared to your superbird."
he laughs, light and soft. the sound skips across your eardrums and melts in your brain.
"do i still have great hair?"
you look up at him. "yeah."
"yeah?" he smiles, perfect. imperfect.
later: your face is hollower than you remember it looking, grey and pale. music is blasting from somewhere downstairs, queen you think, though its hard to tell. things are slipping in and out of focus. the back of your throat tastes like bleach and saline.
"hey," her hand holds your wrist. "its okay."
"i dont think it is," her eyes are staring straight back into yours. "i think theres something wrong with me."
"i already told you, youre not dying."
"no," whispering now, your voice collapsing in on itself. "not like that. like something is wrong inside me, in my brain, or maybe my body. i used to know who i was but i dont think thats true anymore."
"i know who you are." she squeezes your hand, a gesture of comfort. it sets something off behind your eyes, the tears now flowing freely.
"you dont, not really. if you did, you would think differently of me. and it probably wouldnt be a good different."
"youre overthinking. i really think it would be in your best interest if you took a couple of deep breaths and calmed down."
"im trying to be calm," you count the beat of your heart, just to check youre not dead, and find that, yes, you are in fact alive.
"you know i love you, right? how friends are meant to. whatever deep dark secret you think youre harboring, it doesnt matter to me. i like you whoever you are - deep dark secrets and all."
"but you dont know-"
"i do know." she looks at you. "i know, at least i think i do."
you dont know what to say, so you just stare at her.
"you dont have to say it out loud if you dont want to," she smiles.
"okay," you breathe, letting oxygen into your lungs. "okay."
his fingers curl around the shape of your palm. he looks at you.
"i think i want to kiss you." he says, his voice like heaven.
"oh," you say softly, smiling. "sure."
when he kisses you its like kissing god, you think. he tastes like tobacco and brownie batter, it makes you want to laugh and weep all at once, for reasons you cant quite explain.
"everything okay?" he breathes.
"yeah," you whisper. "great."
youre trying to sleep. hes snoring in the darkness somewhere. your fingers trail up to your mouth and you kiss them. once, twice.
you dont really know why.
that all consuming feeling is back, and you can feel it perching on your ribcage, exhausted and miserable.
you tell it, if i knew how not to be like this, i wouldnt be like this.
i know, it says.
i used to be normal, you remind it.
i know, it sighs. its okay.
the words spill out, "i want to say something."
"okay," he replies.
"im going to say this quickly," you pause, just for a moment. "because i feel like if i talk as fast as possible and you dont like what i have to say, then we can pretend it never even happened, and that i had a stroke instead."
he smiles. "good plan."
"okay, good." taking a breath, then diving head first into it. stripping down every wall inside you. "listen, i like you a lot. i dont really have words for it, i just- you make me feel things, lots of things. trying to explain it would be useless because... because the only way i could feasibly do that would be by opening my skull and showing you what was inside."
"god, you are so dramatic." he laughs.
"hang on, im not finished." the point you are trying to make is getting lost between your brain and your mouth, you try to hold on to it, to tell him. "youre like, the coolest person ever and- and that you make me feel kind of- insane because when im with you, everything loses meaning and the only thing i can think of is you. this whole thing feels totally crazy and out of control and like it was maybe orchestrated by god, which is stupid because im an atheist."
at first all he says is "hm." and then he smiles, you breathe out and he nods, the sun dancing over his face. perfect. imperfect. "can i kiss you now?"
"you dont have to ask."
so he kisses you.