The covers were so warm. I rolled over to the side on the soft silk comforter and pulled the quilt up higher.
"Morning, sleepyhead." I opened my eyes to see Adam watching over me with a small smile on his face. His hair was messy and tousled, and he wore nothing but a pair of jeans. I felt him stroke the side of my face gently and he leaned over to kiss me on the forehead.
"Is it morning already?"
"No, you slept through the day. It's 5." I opened my eyes wider to get used to the sunlight, and sat upright to be the same height as him. Even half lying-down he was so tall. It was cold even though the afternoon just happened, and I held on to him for warmth. He put his arms around me and we stayed that way for about five minutes until I got out of bed. I had to move around.
I brushed my teeth as Adam prepared a warm bath for me. He even sat at the edge of the bathtub and helped me wash my hair. He was so genuinely generous and nice. I would never have thought that way about a guy who had been part of three musicals. I finally got out of the bath and rinsed myself before heading back to our room.
It was a small apartment, but we still made it work. Adam watched me get dressed. I knew he loved it when I wore his clothes so I put on one of his David Bowie T shirts and a pair of black boxers he owned. I went to the kitchen. Knowing Adam, he probably had been overdosing on Pop Tarts since morning. That man could do many things, but he knew nuts about cooking.
He came to me as I watched the water boil and hugged me around the waist.
"What do you want to do today?" he muttered into my neck. I turned around and looked into his startling blue eyes, smiling.
"I rented the entire season 2 of Gossip Girl for you."
"NO KIDDING." Knowing Adam, he loved that damn show. He was hooked on every scene, from Blair's make out session with Chuck in the limousine to Selena arguing with her mother. He kissed me on the forehead, and then my cheeks, moving down my arm and coming back to my lips. His skin tickled mine.
"Go set the DVR, I'll be right there," I said laughing, and he scooted off. I watched him excitedly go into our room and I knew in an hour, I could be there curled up under his warm chest, not really paying attention to the TV but listening instead to his slow heartbeat, something that would never change no matter what else did, and falling asleep with him by my side.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
I came into the bar hoping to get drunk enough to be charged with public intoxication. But while I looked around for a place to sit down, my eyes met with a perfect being instead. He was sitting alone in the bar in a black blazer and jeans. The first four buttons on his shirt were left unbuttoned to reveal ivory white, perfect skin on his chest, and he was hunched over, as if brooding about something only he knew about.
I studied his features. His eyes were lined generously with eyeliner, and smudged slightly so it looked like it had been there for days. Like he had slept in it. The man turned his head to face me and smiled, raising one eyebrow in a seductive gesture. I felt the air leave my chest. It must have been me who walked up and introduced myself, but it was him who bought me a drink, and we spent the rest of the hour talking.
Every move he made was perfectly choreographed, and every word he said made my insides squirm. His voice hypnotized me. It was husky, deep, the way I liked it. I must have been the luckiest son of a bitch in that club when he took me by one of his strong hands, and with a gentle tug, led me to small, dark room at the end of the bar.
He closed the door behind him, and it was only the both of us in that small, dimly lit room. He took over me immediately. He seemed to love being on top, and very experienced at it. He knew exactly which places to caress and which buttons to push. Our mouths met like two hungry lions as we explored each other. The couch we were lying on must have squirmed as I met every touch of his with an eagerness that only suggested, "Fuck me."
His tongue moved into my mouth, and then he let it slide over to my cheek, going down my neck and down my chest as he ripped off my shirt in one soft, fluid motion. I felt around for his body in the dark and rid him of his blazer, which he shrugged off. I felt around for his chest again, and removed his shirt. The static was unbearable. The electricity in that small room could have lit up every light bulb in New York City.
Adam's capable hands were on my waist as he straddled me to the couch, and his lips met mine again with an energy that humiliated any martial arts expert. My breathing came in short gasps as my back arched, begging for him to do whatever he pleased to me. I grasped a fistful of his gelled hair and pulled him closer. He smiled into our kiss.
"Not so fast love."
No, it had to be fast. I needed this man. I wanted him to ravage me. I tried to roll over so I could be on top instead but his strong arms resisted me, and they resisted me well. He took both my wrists in an iron grip and held them above my head, while he continued to cover the rest of my body with hot kisses before pulling back.
Adam hovered over me for a while, studying my face. I stared at his blue irises, and he met my eyes with a piercing gaze and a seductive smile. He took far too long, and the anticipation was killing me. I wanted to scream "Just fuck me already" but I didn't. He was such a tease. I felt his hot breath in my ear and he spoke to me.
"You're very pretty, you know that."
I studied his features. His eyes were lined generously with eyeliner, and smudged slightly so it looked like it had been there for days. Like he had slept in it. The man turned his head to face me and smiled, raising one eyebrow in a seductive gesture. I felt the air leave my chest. It must have been me who walked up and introduced myself, but it was him who bought me a drink, and we spent the rest of the hour talking.
Every move he made was perfectly choreographed, and every word he said made my insides squirm. His voice hypnotized me. It was husky, deep, the way I liked it. I must have been the luckiest son of a bitch in that club when he took me by one of his strong hands, and with a gentle tug, led me to small, dark room at the end of the bar.
He closed the door behind him, and it was only the both of us in that small, dimly lit room. He took over me immediately. He seemed to love being on top, and very experienced at it. He knew exactly which places to caress and which buttons to push. Our mouths met like two hungry lions as we explored each other. The couch we were lying on must have squirmed as I met every touch of his with an eagerness that only suggested, "Fuck me."
His tongue moved into my mouth, and then he let it slide over to my cheek, going down my neck and down my chest as he ripped off my shirt in one soft, fluid motion. I felt around for his body in the dark and rid him of his blazer, which he shrugged off. I felt around for his chest again, and removed his shirt. The static was unbearable. The electricity in that small room could have lit up every light bulb in New York City.
Adam's capable hands were on my waist as he straddled me to the couch, and his lips met mine again with an energy that humiliated any martial arts expert. My breathing came in short gasps as my back arched, begging for him to do whatever he pleased to me. I grasped a fistful of his gelled hair and pulled him closer. He smiled into our kiss.
"Not so fast love."
No, it had to be fast. I needed this man. I wanted him to ravage me. I tried to roll over so I could be on top instead but his strong arms resisted me, and they resisted me well. He took both my wrists in an iron grip and held them above my head, while he continued to cover the rest of my body with hot kisses before pulling back.
Adam hovered over me for a while, studying my face. I stared at his blue irises, and he met my eyes with a piercing gaze and a seductive smile. He took far too long, and the anticipation was killing me. I wanted to scream "Just fuck me already" but I didn't. He was such a tease. I felt his hot breath in my ear and he spoke to me.
"You're very pretty, you know that."
Bella, Bella wait."
"No Jacob, get away from me." He cut across her, his strong physique becoming an obstacle to her way out. He wouldn't let he go, not without telling him what had happened. He knew from the beginning, that Edward Cullen did not have the slightest idea what was best for her. Bella turned around so she wouldn't have to look at him, and he wouldn't have to see her crying.
"Bella," he touched her elbow. She yanked it from him, and wiped away a single tear. She could have yanked his heart out instead and it wouldn't have made a difference. He stared at her hair. The deep brown that fell below her waist. The curls moving ever so slightly as sobs she could not hide wretched their way out of her. She was in pain, and her pain hurt him.
"Bella, listen to me," he turned her around to face him, "if he's forcing you to be with him, you can tell me. Is he hurting you in any way?"
She didn't answer, but her sobs gave her away. Anger stung Jacob. That bloodsucker hurt Bella, his Bella. A fresh wave of hysteria washed her over and she clung to him for support as new tears came. He placed an arm to her back to keep her steady, she was so weak.
"Don't go looking for him, Jacob."
"I'm going to rip that leech limb from limb."
"I don't want you to get hurt. I need you,Jacob" She looked up at him. His heart melted into his stomach to see her that way. She needed him now, and he wanted to be there. She pressed her cheek to his chest, aching for his warmth.
"You're so cold." He set her back down on the couch and rushed to the closet for a blanket that he wrapped around the both of them. She nestled up to him willingly, the curves of her body fit his perfectly. Like a jigsaw puzzle, and both pieces just as mangled.
"I didn't want to tell you because I knew you would be this mad," she whispered.
"How could he?"
"He doesn't know what he's capable of."
They were silent for a while. Even the wind outside the window seemed to have slowed down, but the snow was still as thick as ever. Bella might have been sleeping, but she shifted herself slightly to look at Jacob. He stroked her soft hair gently, and studied the features of her pale face. She was still beautiful.
"He's going to be mad you know, that i'm here."
"I won't let him hurt you." She felt the hold he had on her with his strong arms tighten. She kissed him on the forehead, and then on the lips, once, twice.
"I love you, Jacob."
"I love you too, Bella."
-End-
"No Jacob, get away from me." He cut across her, his strong physique becoming an obstacle to her way out. He wouldn't let he go, not without telling him what had happened. He knew from the beginning, that Edward Cullen did not have the slightest idea what was best for her. Bella turned around so she wouldn't have to look at him, and he wouldn't have to see her crying.
"Bella," he touched her elbow. She yanked it from him, and wiped away a single tear. She could have yanked his heart out instead and it wouldn't have made a difference. He stared at her hair. The deep brown that fell below her waist. The curls moving ever so slightly as sobs she could not hide wretched their way out of her. She was in pain, and her pain hurt him.
"Bella, listen to me," he turned her around to face him, "if he's forcing you to be with him, you can tell me. Is he hurting you in any way?"
She didn't answer, but her sobs gave her away. Anger stung Jacob. That bloodsucker hurt Bella, his Bella. A fresh wave of hysteria washed her over and she clung to him for support as new tears came. He placed an arm to her back to keep her steady, she was so weak.
"Don't go looking for him, Jacob."
"I'm going to rip that leech limb from limb."
"I don't want you to get hurt. I need you,Jacob" She looked up at him. His heart melted into his stomach to see her that way. She needed him now, and he wanted to be there. She pressed her cheek to his chest, aching for his warmth.
"You're so cold." He set her back down on the couch and rushed to the closet for a blanket that he wrapped around the both of them. She nestled up to him willingly, the curves of her body fit his perfectly. Like a jigsaw puzzle, and both pieces just as mangled.
"I didn't want to tell you because I knew you would be this mad," she whispered.
"How could he?"
"He doesn't know what he's capable of."
They were silent for a while. Even the wind outside the window seemed to have slowed down, but the snow was still as thick as ever. Bella might have been sleeping, but she shifted herself slightly to look at Jacob. He stroked her soft hair gently, and studied the features of her pale face. She was still beautiful.
"He's going to be mad you know, that i'm here."
"I won't let him hurt you." She felt the hold he had on her with his strong arms tighten. She kissed him on the forehead, and then on the lips, once, twice.
"I love you, Jacob."
"I love you too, Bella."
-End-
Monday, January 19, 2009
If you ever shoot yourself, I'll write your name on the bullet so you will be the last thing to pass through my head.
Heather took a box out of her left jeans pocket and pulled out a cigarette. She put it in between his lips and rummaged around for a lighter. A hand came out of nowhere holding a lighted matchstick.
"Twenty years, Heather. Twenty-fucking-years, and I find you here. Of all places." The hand dropped the match and it left a mark on the parquet floor where it landed. Heather know that voice, she had heard it all her life, but she was afraid to turn around.
"Look at me, Heather." She couldn't. Would Angie still look the same? She still sounded the same, only her voice was a little lower, more mature. More...intense.
She opened his mouth and the cancer stick fell, joining the match on the ground. She felt two hands snake around her waist and hot breath on her left ear.
"You know how I love the way you look in a sweater." She looked down at the hands wrapped around her. They looked exactly as they did all those years ago. Would they feel the same? She put her arms on Angie's, and fell hard and fast for her once again.
"Look at me again, Heather." But she didn't want to. She pulled free and ran to the open window, pulling herself through it with surprising vigor and energy for someone so thin. Angie didn't stop her, but her hand was still reaching out. Heather closed her eyes, both to stop the tears and to to save herself the trauma of seeing the ground get nearer, before she jumped.
Angie took a gun out from her pocket, and a bullet out from the other. She remembered something from two decades ago. Before she left Heather.
"I know you collect them, so I got this made for you," Heather put a box in her hands. She smiled and opened it. Inside there was a bullet with 'Heather' engraved on it.
"Honey, it's gorgeous." Angie pulled her close with one arm, the other still holding the box, and made to kiss her. But Heather put her palms on her chest. Her voice grew solemn.
"If you ever decide to shoot yourself, I want you to shoot yourself with this. So that I will be the last thing to pass through your head." Angie stared.
"Honey, that's crazy." Heather's face broke out into a grin.
"Which is why you should never shoot yourself, you idiot. Or I'll hunt your ghost down and kill you again, you got it?" They both laughed.
Angie loaded the gun, and put the mouth of it on the side of her head. She pulled the trigger, and fell to the floor, dead even before she touched the ground. Five storey's below, a dead body of a woman lay skewered on the metal fencing.
Heather took a box out of her left jeans pocket and pulled out a cigarette. She put it in between his lips and rummaged around for a lighter. A hand came out of nowhere holding a lighted matchstick.
"Twenty years, Heather. Twenty-fucking-years, and I find you here. Of all places." The hand dropped the match and it left a mark on the parquet floor where it landed. Heather know that voice, she had heard it all her life, but she was afraid to turn around.
"Look at me, Heather." She couldn't. Would Angie still look the same? She still sounded the same, only her voice was a little lower, more mature. More...intense.
She opened his mouth and the cancer stick fell, joining the match on the ground. She felt two hands snake around her waist and hot breath on her left ear.
"You know how I love the way you look in a sweater." She looked down at the hands wrapped around her. They looked exactly as they did all those years ago. Would they feel the same? She put her arms on Angie's, and fell hard and fast for her once again.
"Look at me again, Heather." But she didn't want to. She pulled free and ran to the open window, pulling herself through it with surprising vigor and energy for someone so thin. Angie didn't stop her, but her hand was still reaching out. Heather closed her eyes, both to stop the tears and to to save herself the trauma of seeing the ground get nearer, before she jumped.
Angie took a gun out from her pocket, and a bullet out from the other. She remembered something from two decades ago. Before she left Heather.
"I know you collect them, so I got this made for you," Heather put a box in her hands. She smiled and opened it. Inside there was a bullet with 'Heather' engraved on it.
"Honey, it's gorgeous." Angie pulled her close with one arm, the other still holding the box, and made to kiss her. But Heather put her palms on her chest. Her voice grew solemn.
"If you ever decide to shoot yourself, I want you to shoot yourself with this. So that I will be the last thing to pass through your head." Angie stared.
"Honey, that's crazy." Heather's face broke out into a grin.
"Which is why you should never shoot yourself, you idiot. Or I'll hunt your ghost down and kill you again, you got it?" They both laughed.
Angie loaded the gun, and put the mouth of it on the side of her head. She pulled the trigger, and fell to the floor, dead even before she touched the ground. Five storey's below, a dead body of a woman lay skewered on the metal fencing.
I need to tell you
I stared at him wishfully. There was no other word to describe him. The flawlessness of his features,Gerard. He was perfect. And I wanted him so much for that very reason.
I tell myself,loving you is a sin. And yet I can't stop my heart from fluttering every time I meet your gaze. Every look you give me,was it love? Did you have the same fucked up fantasies I kept about you? Your voice,the breathy,sexy tone you had. Can I kiss you?
Fuck no. Did I just say that out loud? He looked at me,puzzled. Everyday,for a year,I had been struggling to keep that a secret. The movie,some retarded chick flick,was forgotten.
"Gerard,I love you"
I lowered my eyes. I wasn't going to look at him,not anymore. I felt a hand on my chin, lifting my face. Gerard stared into my eyes. Was it love this time? He pressed his lips to mine,and kissed me. Damn,he tasted good. I was completely melting into that gorgeous creature. Leaving my thoughts behind me,I kissed him back.
"I love you too,Frankie" he said,pulling me onto his lap. I stared at his entrancing eyes,the beautiful hazel orbs of his. Gerard gave me such a horny look that made my blood flow to my cheeks,noticeable even in the dim lighting. He was probable wondering how long it would take to the nearest motel.
"You want to get out of here? " I asked. Screw that movie.
"Only if I get to have my way with you afterwards.” he said,kissing me again.
***********
I winced as Gerard threw me onto the comfy white hotel bed and jumped on it himself. God knows what that fucking thing would endure by morning, or what Gerard was planning. I brought myself into a kneeling position and beckoned him to come closer. He did, placing his strong arms around my waist, under my jacket, and kissed me full-force, pulling my hips closer to his own. We had ordered tequila before coming up, and I could still taste it on him. I wrapped my tattooed arms over his neck, and buried my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
Gerard toyed with my lip piercing for a while until it bled, and then licked my lips apologetically, before pulling off my jacket, and my shirt over my head leaving marks. He was wearing a black buttoned-down shirt. I could feel muscles beneath that damned piece of cloth, and I was getting turned on. So much, I didn't bother unbuttoning anything, I just tore it apart, the plastic bodies of buttons flying across the room. My eager hands explored his torso, not leaving an inch untouched, while at the same time not breaking the kiss. I turned over so I was on top and he smirked, that annoyingly lustful smile of his.
"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was husky. I guessed all lead-singers must have been like that, lips chapped and dry from screaming on-stage, and voices always hoarse, as if they had a sore-throat. If so, then how could he manage to sound so orgasmically sexy on stage? I barely had time to answer my own question, when Gerard flipped over so he was on top, and I was left to his mercy.
He traced my collarbone with his painted finger, the black nail-polish chipping off, and then traced the same path with his tongue. I was dangerously close to moaning like a little whore, while staring into his electrifying eyes, now pools of dark chocolate. His other hand was concentrating on pinning both my wrists over my head. He shrugged off the shirt he wore, and used it to tie my hands to the bed-stand. Fuck.
He double-tied the knot, and straddled me to the bed with his hips. I couldn't move, and who knew what that gorgeous creature could do to me when he wanted to. When I wanted him to. I wanted him to ravage me, to violate every part of my body. I wanted it so much, it didn't matter if we were both guys, or if I had a girlfriend in Jersey. That was what I got.
I stared at him wishfully. There was no other word to describe him. The flawlessness of his features,Gerard. He was perfect. And I wanted him so much for that very reason.
I tell myself,loving you is a sin. And yet I can't stop my heart from fluttering every time I meet your gaze. Every look you give me,was it love? Did you have the same fucked up fantasies I kept about you? Your voice,the breathy,sexy tone you had. Can I kiss you?
Fuck no. Did I just say that out loud? He looked at me,puzzled. Everyday,for a year,I had been struggling to keep that a secret. The movie,some retarded chick flick,was forgotten.
"Gerard,I love you"
I lowered my eyes. I wasn't going to look at him,not anymore. I felt a hand on my chin, lifting my face. Gerard stared into my eyes. Was it love this time? He pressed his lips to mine,and kissed me. Damn,he tasted good. I was completely melting into that gorgeous creature. Leaving my thoughts behind me,I kissed him back.
"I love you too,Frankie" he said,pulling me onto his lap. I stared at his entrancing eyes,the beautiful hazel orbs of his. Gerard gave me such a horny look that made my blood flow to my cheeks,noticeable even in the dim lighting. He was probable wondering how long it would take to the nearest motel.
"You want to get out of here? " I asked. Screw that movie.
"Only if I get to have my way with you afterwards.” he said,kissing me again.
***********
I winced as Gerard threw me onto the comfy white hotel bed and jumped on it himself. God knows what that fucking thing would endure by morning, or what Gerard was planning. I brought myself into a kneeling position and beckoned him to come closer. He did, placing his strong arms around my waist, under my jacket, and kissed me full-force, pulling my hips closer to his own. We had ordered tequila before coming up, and I could still taste it on him. I wrapped my tattooed arms over his neck, and buried my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
Gerard toyed with my lip piercing for a while until it bled, and then licked my lips apologetically, before pulling off my jacket, and my shirt over my head leaving marks. He was wearing a black buttoned-down shirt. I could feel muscles beneath that damned piece of cloth, and I was getting turned on. So much, I didn't bother unbuttoning anything, I just tore it apart, the plastic bodies of buttons flying across the room. My eager hands explored his torso, not leaving an inch untouched, while at the same time not breaking the kiss. I turned over so I was on top and he smirked, that annoyingly lustful smile of his.
"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was husky. I guessed all lead-singers must have been like that, lips chapped and dry from screaming on-stage, and voices always hoarse, as if they had a sore-throat. If so, then how could he manage to sound so orgasmically sexy on stage? I barely had time to answer my own question, when Gerard flipped over so he was on top, and I was left to his mercy.
He traced my collarbone with his painted finger, the black nail-polish chipping off, and then traced the same path with his tongue. I was dangerously close to moaning like a little whore, while staring into his electrifying eyes, now pools of dark chocolate. His other hand was concentrating on pinning both my wrists over my head. He shrugged off the shirt he wore, and used it to tie my hands to the bed-stand. Fuck.
He double-tied the knot, and straddled me to the bed with his hips. I couldn't move, and who knew what that gorgeous creature could do to me when he wanted to. When I wanted him to. I wanted him to ravage me, to violate every part of my body. I wanted it so much, it didn't matter if we were both guys, or if I had a girlfriend in Jersey. That was what I got.
Too Pretty To Be Real
Get off it, what was I thinking. He's my brother. I refuse, hands down, to think about him in that way. He let out a little giggle as one of the characters on TV did something really fucked up. If he got anymore animated, he probably would be a cartoon character himself.
"Ryan, I'm going to take a shower."
"Yeah, whatever". Ryan made a flapping gesture with his hand, not looking up from the TV. The credits started rolling and he picked up the remote control, before flipping through the channels. I made a threatening gesture at him that he did not see, and went to pick up my towel.
When I came back, I heard screaming. Damn, was he watching that movie again? He always got scared after watching trashy horror films and would come and annoy me in the middle of the night because he was too scared to sleep. Not that I thought that was a bad thing. I shook my head, and got into the bathroom.
I rid myself of my clothes and took a glance at the mirror. I didn't look that bad. Even after losing some weight after touring I wasn't skinny to the extent of my bones showing. Even so, me and Ryan were completely different when it came to our builds. His body was made of soft, feminine curves while mine was straight and hard. Before I could stop myself, I was thinking about his dramatic eyes, those enticing green orbs. As cheesy as it sounded, I could tell what he was feeling just by looking at them.
If there was a crease in between his eyebrows it meant he was thinking about something. If they were wide it meant he was happy. When he raised his eyebrows, he was taunting you. There was something in them that I couldn't see anywhere else. It made Ryan, Ryan. And those lips. True, they weren't the best looking ones on the planet. But what came out of them made all the difference. He could scream at you, whisper to you, or just hold a conversation and all you could focus on was the way he shifted his gaze, or gestured with his hands.
As my mental gaze got lower and lower, a call came from outside of the bathroom.
"Brendon?" I jumped.
"What?"
"Could you maybe, be a bit faster..." There it was. His annoying little girly scared voice.
"I'll be out in an hour."
"But I can't wait that long." I turned the shower on just as he finished the sentence, before calling back out to him louder than necessary.
"I can't hear you, the shower's too loud. I'll be out in an hour." I laughed at the thought of his scared face. But the thought soon morphed into something else. I might be crazy over my brother, but like any other guy, I couldn't say no to any hot girl. I definitely couldn't have said no to that slut I picked over at the club the other night. My thoughts shifted to her, and I ended up taking longer than an hour.
*************
I wrapped a towel around my waist and got out of the bathtub. The steam made it impossible to see, so I decided to get dressed in our room. Our apartment had two rooms, but sometimes one of the other band members would come over so Ryan and I shared one room. I found him sitting on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest. He looked at me as I walked in.
"What's gotten your panties in a bunch?"
"You took longer then an hour,"
"So?" I turned away from him and rummaged through my wardrobe for a clean shirt. He wretched the blanket from the foot of the bed and covered himself up to his neck in it, before turning away. So now he was mad at me. I put down the shirt, walked up to his bed, and bent over him before brushing his hair out of his eyes.
"I'm sorry Ryan, I didn't think you were that scared." He pushed my hand away and covered his face with the blanket. He would give in someday. I stood straight and went back to my shirt.
"You know you should really take off your eyelashes before going to bed."
He sat up straight now. I laughed and showed him a box that I had stolen from his make-up kit. He made a wild grasp for it but I held it away.
"Give it back to me!" Ryan stood in front of me now, "How the fuck you know I had fake eyelashes on?"
He pinned me to the wall and brought his face millimetres from mine, while his hand still did whatever it could to get a hold on the box. I half-breathed out my reply.
"I always knew. They were too pretty to be real."
Get off it, what was I thinking. He's my brother. I refuse, hands down, to think about him in that way. He let out a little giggle as one of the characters on TV did something really fucked up. If he got anymore animated, he probably would be a cartoon character himself.
"Ryan, I'm going to take a shower."
"Yeah, whatever". Ryan made a flapping gesture with his hand, not looking up from the TV. The credits started rolling and he picked up the remote control, before flipping through the channels. I made a threatening gesture at him that he did not see, and went to pick up my towel.
When I came back, I heard screaming. Damn, was he watching that movie again? He always got scared after watching trashy horror films and would come and annoy me in the middle of the night because he was too scared to sleep. Not that I thought that was a bad thing. I shook my head, and got into the bathroom.
I rid myself of my clothes and took a glance at the mirror. I didn't look that bad. Even after losing some weight after touring I wasn't skinny to the extent of my bones showing. Even so, me and Ryan were completely different when it came to our builds. His body was made of soft, feminine curves while mine was straight and hard. Before I could stop myself, I was thinking about his dramatic eyes, those enticing green orbs. As cheesy as it sounded, I could tell what he was feeling just by looking at them.
If there was a crease in between his eyebrows it meant he was thinking about something. If they were wide it meant he was happy. When he raised his eyebrows, he was taunting you. There was something in them that I couldn't see anywhere else. It made Ryan, Ryan. And those lips. True, they weren't the best looking ones on the planet. But what came out of them made all the difference. He could scream at you, whisper to you, or just hold a conversation and all you could focus on was the way he shifted his gaze, or gestured with his hands.
As my mental gaze got lower and lower, a call came from outside of the bathroom.
"Brendon?" I jumped.
"What?"
"Could you maybe, be a bit faster..." There it was. His annoying little girly scared voice.
"I'll be out in an hour."
"But I can't wait that long." I turned the shower on just as he finished the sentence, before calling back out to him louder than necessary.
"I can't hear you, the shower's too loud. I'll be out in an hour." I laughed at the thought of his scared face. But the thought soon morphed into something else. I might be crazy over my brother, but like any other guy, I couldn't say no to any hot girl. I definitely couldn't have said no to that slut I picked over at the club the other night. My thoughts shifted to her, and I ended up taking longer than an hour.
*************
I wrapped a towel around my waist and got out of the bathtub. The steam made it impossible to see, so I decided to get dressed in our room. Our apartment had two rooms, but sometimes one of the other band members would come over so Ryan and I shared one room. I found him sitting on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest. He looked at me as I walked in.
"What's gotten your panties in a bunch?"
"You took longer then an hour,"
"So?" I turned away from him and rummaged through my wardrobe for a clean shirt. He wretched the blanket from the foot of the bed and covered himself up to his neck in it, before turning away. So now he was mad at me. I put down the shirt, walked up to his bed, and bent over him before brushing his hair out of his eyes.
"I'm sorry Ryan, I didn't think you were that scared." He pushed my hand away and covered his face with the blanket. He would give in someday. I stood straight and went back to my shirt.
"You know you should really take off your eyelashes before going to bed."
He sat up straight now. I laughed and showed him a box that I had stolen from his make-up kit. He made a wild grasp for it but I held it away.
"Give it back to me!" Ryan stood in front of me now, "How the fuck you know I had fake eyelashes on?"
He pinned me to the wall and brought his face millimetres from mine, while his hand still did whatever it could to get a hold on the box. I half-breathed out my reply.
"I always knew. They were too pretty to be real."
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The Lady- A Trilogy
The Lady In The Well
Oh dear me mister I'm quaking in my clothes
I'm so scared of being unconscious or dead
You'll taint my mind, with awful thoughts
Made into flashing scenes I dread
You might poison the water I drink
Or have thick needles upright hidden in my bed
You might set a ghoulish banshee on me
To slice my head off with thread
You can send a mob to hurt me
With so many sticks and stones
They could hang me on a stake
After breaking all my bones
And if you're not finished
You can come and find me by your own
13th Elm Street, Fellow's Walk
The house with the thousand gnomes
But if you look down the well
A sorry sight I say, you'll see
A tangled mess, in a wedding dress
Dear mister, that mess is me
I Saw The Lady In The Well
I saw the lady in the well
The one I had tried to kill
She was an awful mess, in her wedding dress
With a smile so blank and still
Her eyes were empty, no feeling, nothing
Her mouth open five inches wide
To swallow a living man's spirit, and bring him to her
Far away from his own loving bride
But she was calling for me, and in silent words
My help she needed, she said
I could not listen to her, I really could not
I told myself strictly, she was dead
But as I stood watching that scene
I couldn't have stopped, or fled
I twisted my neck, to wretch off my eyes
And ended up taking off my own head
To save my skull I stooped so low
And reached for that damned limb with scorn
But my feet were rooted to the ground
And from the ankles my body was torn
I fell harsh and fast, but had time to think
About what Susan would say
When she saw her husband, headless and dead
In a well, one horrible, rainy day
My Husband and The Lady
The morning was peaceful and quiet
And I had quite a lot of time to feel contrite
As I sat stitching, my mind was itching
With a notion that something wasn't quite right
It must be the sun
I said to myself, strictly like Michael would say
When he felt light-headed, about the things he dreaded
On a warm, stifling summer's day
And when the neighbourhood gentlewoman came running to me
I thought it was my help she wanted
But when I saw the sight, she had led me to see
I felt it was her help I terribly needed
My husband, dead, in his own blood
Far from where I thought he would die
In a stupid well, music cattle bells
It had to be, a scary lie
It was not my husband, it couldn't be
Take him out, and pray let me see
I tell you, my husband, this man ought not to be
I'll tell ye, just take him out for me
So the men heaved a rope, to the ditch below
And heaved till the man was in sight
That pocket watch, and the stains of scotch
Told me it was my husband, quite right
-End-
The Lady In The Well
Oh dear me mister I'm quaking in my clothes
I'm so scared of being unconscious or dead
You'll taint my mind, with awful thoughts
Made into flashing scenes I dread
You might poison the water I drink
Or have thick needles upright hidden in my bed
You might set a ghoulish banshee on me
To slice my head off with thread
You can send a mob to hurt me
With so many sticks and stones
They could hang me on a stake
After breaking all my bones
And if you're not finished
You can come and find me by your own
13th Elm Street, Fellow's Walk
The house with the thousand gnomes
But if you look down the well
A sorry sight I say, you'll see
A tangled mess, in a wedding dress
Dear mister, that mess is me
I Saw The Lady In The Well
I saw the lady in the well
The one I had tried to kill
She was an awful mess, in her wedding dress
With a smile so blank and still
Her eyes were empty, no feeling, nothing
Her mouth open five inches wide
To swallow a living man's spirit, and bring him to her
Far away from his own loving bride
But she was calling for me, and in silent words
My help she needed, she said
I could not listen to her, I really could not
I told myself strictly, she was dead
But as I stood watching that scene
I couldn't have stopped, or fled
I twisted my neck, to wretch off my eyes
And ended up taking off my own head
To save my skull I stooped so low
And reached for that damned limb with scorn
But my feet were rooted to the ground
And from the ankles my body was torn
I fell harsh and fast, but had time to think
About what Susan would say
When she saw her husband, headless and dead
In a well, one horrible, rainy day
My Husband and The Lady
The morning was peaceful and quiet
And I had quite a lot of time to feel contrite
As I sat stitching, my mind was itching
With a notion that something wasn't quite right
It must be the sun
I said to myself, strictly like Michael would say
When he felt light-headed, about the things he dreaded
On a warm, stifling summer's day
And when the neighbourhood gentlewoman came running to me
I thought it was my help she wanted
But when I saw the sight, she had led me to see
I felt it was her help I terribly needed
My husband, dead, in his own blood
Far from where I thought he would die
In a stupid well, music cattle bells
It had to be, a scary lie
It was not my husband, it couldn't be
Take him out, and pray let me see
I tell you, my husband, this man ought not to be
I'll tell ye, just take him out for me
So the men heaved a rope, to the ditch below
And heaved till the man was in sight
That pocket watch, and the stains of scotch
Told me it was my husband, quite right
-End-
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