Into the Morning: part 1
Matt—
Oh, God. He's here. Could it really be…? Damn. Shit. Fuck. It's him. I'm screwed.
Even across the Technicolor-drenched crowd, I saw him. Definitely my ex. I bet he's stalking me. Again. I swung back around on my nifty bar stool so hard I smacked my knee into the bar. I cursed under my breath.
This wasn't happening. Okay, before I freaked out, I should think of a video game analogy. It always worked. What did I do when I got stuck momentarily on the Minas Tirith level of Lord of the Rings Conquest? I took a deep breath, armed my Gondorian solider, and hacked down every Orc with fire on my blade and a thuglife swag in my step. I told them to taste Narsil and started splitting skulls. Covered in black Orc blood, with the heads of my victims littering the pearly streets of the White City, I emerged an unsung hero of Gondor. I had upheld my honor and saved my city from Sauron's watchful eye. My wife, my children, my Captain, and King Aragorn would be so proud—
Whoa. Too far.
Back to my current predicament. My glass was empty. I had to fix that. As I signaled for the bartender, I glanced around nervously. No, scratch that. I masked my nervousness with an air of cool indifference. I wasn't going to let this ruin my night. It wouldn't.
I don't know how smooth I came across on the outside, but on the inside I was raging on like a panicked schoolgirl.
he's not really here and he's not going to talk to me and he's just here to move on like I am and he's not mean or scary or approaching me! hell Elijah wood's eyes are scarier than him and you know it, Matt! wait, why did I just call myself by my own name? Jesus fucking Christ, just calm the fuck down and slow down crazie you're going batshit man it's s'all good yeah buddy kkthnxbai
Yep. Definitely feeling the buzz now. Zelda, Link, and Hyrule, that took long enough. Maybe he didn't even recognize me. Maybe if I just hide my face in my menu I'll be okay. Could I do that and still look cool? Yes I could.
And fun I was going to have (Yoda much?). I made a pinky promise to myself in the men's room before coming out to boldly sit at the bar alone. I gulped down some of my drink before I glanced around again. Still no real sign of my ex. That's good. Maybe he's not out to get me just yet. Maybe, like me, he's hoping for a nonawkward lack of public encounter.
Just when I was busy trying to distract myself by reviewing every planet in the Star Trek solar system, someone reached a hand over and flicked the lens my goggles. Okay, random stranger. Way to be up in my personal space. I looked up and saw his face. Just kidding! I enjoyed that. Wait, why am I busy narrating? I should be talking to this gorgeous man. Use your words, Matt.
"What makes you want to see the world in orange?" He asked, sliding into the seat next to me and leaning close. He was dressed head to toe in leather and his breath smelled like candy. Why was he sexy on a pornographic level?
"It sure as hell beats seeing the world for what it really is." I found myself saying. Wow, that sounds so mysterious and philosophical. It makes me seem 10x cooler than I actually am. I mean, I guess I'm pretty badass but it's impossible to tell when I'm hype over the possibility of my ex lurking. With a line like that, I would date myself.
Smirking, he raised two fingers to signal another drink from the bartender. Just like that. No words, just sexy.
Okay, we can take turns. You can date me too.
Somehow me and this random stranger got into a conversation that led to black and white movies, then bad Christmas songs, then theoretical physics and neurobiology, then criminal justice, then perpetually boring happy endings, then how ancient Nintendo 64 and Dreamcast were, then TV commercials we found funny, how many times we think Lady GaGa has sneezed in her lifetime, and how ridiculous tumblr pictures are.
And I found myself relaxing. Something about him made me totally comfortable. Now I guess this is moment where you'll say "I know where this is going" and "Come on, he's a hooker that's going to rape you dead and take all your money" but we just…talked. And drank like there was no tomorrow. Which was fun. By the time he asked me if I wanted to hit the dance floor to, I found myself saying not only yes, but hellz yahh.
Now you're thinking, and I'm not disagreeing with you: when the fuck does this happen in real life? Badass nerd – yes we do exist – gets picked up a bar by a total yummy hotass leather-wearer that is also quite the badass? They have a heart to heart and decide that they are genuinely interested in the other based on a conversation alone? Even I'm reeling.
Maybe this was a dream. It could even be a nightmare. Did I really care? Fuck no. I was enjoying myself – finally – and nothing was going to stop me from having a good time. I hit the dance floor so hard I'd be feeling its repercussions back from Deep Space Nine for days.
Metro Station's "Control" ripped through the speakers. It tore through every pore of my body. The bass pounded in my ears. The lyrics were static in my head and every note was swimming in my veins.
Normally I would feel embarrassed by my own dancing, but next to Hotass Leather-wearer, I wasn't so awful. Which made me laugh. But I loved how comfortable he was with himself. His confidence was so contagious. When a grind train started up, Hotass Leather-wear dragged me into it. Laughing and holding his hand, I let him. We were sandwiched between girls wearing sparkly dresses that were short as belts.
Nothing could spoil my fun. I had finally let loose and had a good time. But it would come skittering to a halt. Nothing could spoil my fun—except maybe my ex. Shoving through the crowd. In my direction.
Hotass Leather-wearer tried to ask me something, but it was lost in the deafening music. Stupid music. I wanted to scream at Dev for fucking dancing in the dark, but even that wouldn't be heard by anyone.
He was saying something. I tried to read his lips. All the multicolored lights made it hard to focus on his mouth. He stopped and repeated himself slowly. I finally made out: "What's up?"
"Don't bother." I mouthed.
He seemed to let it go, but the brief narrowing of his icy blue eyes told me otherwise. Why did he care? We met like an hour ago.
And here my ex was, still shoving through the crowd to get to me. Cue Super Mario Death Music #9.
I tried to ignore him. I kept close to Hotass Leather-wearer. He smirked and kept on dancing with me. I tried to keep my mind on moving with Hotass Leather-wearer, but my ex was coming close. I swallowed hard. Even though we were jumping, I saw for a fraction of a second, Hotass Leather-wearer's expression change. He looked at me seriously, with his eyes narrowed. I think he was on to me, saw me trying to swallow my fear.
And here my ex was, dancing beside me.
At first, he bumped my shoulder as if he was too close and we accidentally collided. Once would've been enough, but he didn't stop. He kept nudging me, pushing too hard. I should've known he wasn't going to directly confront me or make a big scene. He was all about getting into your head and screwing you up. The whole relationship was all a mind game. Which is one of reasons why it didn't last. Now I pride myself on usually remaining friends with my exes, but he's been out to get me ever since. So here we are.
At first, I pretended like it was just an accidental collision. I wasn't looking for a fight. Hell, I didn't care if he messed with me even a little. I was the one who had broken up with him, I deserved something. But, come on. We're not in ninth grade.
I'm a pretty tolerant person, but there's only so much I can take. He kept bumping me., harder and more obviously. I was sick of his shit, so I bumped him back. "Enough."
He didn't like that. Even with all the neon lights in the club, I saw his eyes flash. His hands came down on me.
He shoved me. I fell back into a crowd of people. Hotass Leather-wearer grabbed my arm and held me steady.
When I was upright, he tried to shove me again. This time he was yelling something in my face. I couldn't hear anything. I didn't want to. I knocked his hands off my chest. "Go home, Cole."
Frankly, he was getting on my nerves. So I punched him in the face. No one noticed. It felt great.
Thank you, Dev for dancing in the dark and inspiring a couple hundred other people to. Like right now.
As Cole fell into the crowd, the other people thought he was another drunk guy tripping over his feet performing a crazy dance move. They picked him up, stood him up, and danced at his sides like nothing happened. But he broke away from them, making a beeline towards me. Fists clenched for a fight. Hotass Leather-wearer must've seen the blood leave my face again because he gripped my arm. He looked at me seriously, nodding his head, letting me know that he'd have my back. He conveyed this to me without having to shout over the too-loud music. A red light shone over him and he winked at me.
The second Cole came near, he got up in my face. He was saying something. I couldn't make out the words, but I could tell by his features, which were pinched with hatred, that they weren't a peace treaty.
This time my Hotass Leather-wearer wedged himself between Cole and me. In a moment of panic, I thought he was going to start a fight with Cole for my sake. I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. I was about to tell him to leave it be, that I could handle it, but he pushed over to Cole. I tried to follow. This was getting out of control. He put a hand on my chest, lightly pushing me back. He was going to handle this.
I didn't know what was going on. It all seemed too fast, like my vision was blurring around the edges. With the lights and music and the crowd, it all seemed like a loud, colorful, sparkly nightmare.
My Hotass Leather-wearer met Cole and placed his hands on each side of his head. He brought Cole's face close to his and spoke to him. For a weird moment, I thought they were to going kiss. But Cole was listening intently to whatever Hotass Leather-wearer was saying. How could Cole even hear him? I could barely form thoughts.
And, apparently, everyone decided that this moment was ideal to fist pump to "We Found Love" by Rihanna. Now that everyone's arms were in the air, I couldn't make out much of what was going between Cole and Hotass Leather-wearer.
I shoved my way through as many people I could. Someone was spraying neon foam and a couple beach balls were going around. Momentarily I was distracted by trying to avoid getting hit by either. When I focused again on Cole and Hotass Leather-wearer, I saw that Cole's eyes were wide. Hotass Leather-wearer stepped back and I noticed Cole's face had gone pale.
What's going on? What did he say? The whole scene looked strange in the middle of the crowd of drunken fist pumpers.
My Hotass Leather-wearer spun on his heel, finished with Cole, and started back towards me. Cole's eyes met mine through the hands of the flailing crowd around us. And I saw it. Fear. But only for a moment. Then he turned around and pushed his way towards the door.
And that was it.
My Hotass Leather-wearer reached me and flashed me a brilliant smile. Shaking my head, I took him by the shoulders and hauled his deliciously hot ass to a quieter corner of the club. I backed him into a corner, my hands still clamped on his shoulders.
"Okay, I trust you and all, random stranger. I want you to know that." I said. "It's nice to know you have more substance than all these club goers roll into one. Yay, awesome. But, seriously, what the fuck just happened?"
He struggled with an answer. Then, he said, "I wanted to make sure he wasn't going to mess with you anymore."
"Thanks, but I can handle myself." I didn't mean it harshly.
"I don't doubt it. But I saw how he got to you." He looked me dead in the eyes as he said this. I had a feeling that most people wouldn't. Speaking such honesty and intensity would cause them avert their gaze. "Look, it's none of my business. But you were freaking out. And you suck at hiding shit like that." Something about his unwavering gaze told me had courage and heart. And that he was brazen as hell. "Look, I just wanted you to have a good time without having to worry about some crazy stalker ex."
"What did you say to him?"
"Just threatened him."
"And that worked?"
"Yeah, must've. Hey, I know you can take care of yourself." I could tell by his eyes that we sincerely meant it. "But—"
"You were just looking out for me." I pinched the bridge of my nose. I tried to fight the smile, but it spread across my face anyway. "Okay. Next time, give me a little more warning."
He looked at me seriously. "You've got an encouraging amount of faith in people."
"Thanks. Do you write cards for Hallmark?" He whacked my chest, as if scolding me. I laughed.
He looked in the direction of the dance floor. He was thinking the same thing as me—this was getting heavy. Not that it was unwanted or comfortable. I needed this, and I figured he knew that, but it was killing his—and my—buzz. "Should be afraid, though?" I asked him before we went out again. "About trusting people so easily? What about you?"
"Trusting me? I can promise you something: I won't make it easy for you. But, yeah, you can trust me." He said, flashing me a dark and handsome smile. He grabbed my arm. "Come on." He led me back to the dance floor.
Everything with Cole that just happened was forgotten. And all other worries were lost with the music.
Got the goofiest grin / got a big smile on my face / Hey you, let's get out out out of this place / grab my hand let's go
When things started dying down, I touched my Hotass Leather-wearer's arm and pointed to the door. He smirked and nodded slowly. As we were pushed to the front door, we were held up by thicker crowd gathering to leave. Something that happened at the door was holding everyone. Probably some sloppy drunk throwing up all over the place. It happened.
Waiting in the crowd, he slipped an arm around my waist. Then kissed me on the cheek. His way of saying he had a great time. I felt a blush creep across my cheeks. I gave him a shy smile, which he received with a smirk. As soon as we left the club, he took my hand and led me away from the door. He shoved me against the dirty brick wall underneath the club's neon light sign and kissed me. Hard. Holy shit, I didn't want it to end. And when he pulled away, I was seeing stars.
"Why me?" I asked. I meant of all the people he could've talked to, he chose me. What about me made him want to talk to me?
Or was there a reason? Did there need to be?
"Why not?" He answered. "I like you."
While we were waiting for the cab to arrive, we stood on the curb and he kissed me again. I responded by slowly moving my mouth with his. Immediately his attack softened, like he wasn't expecting me to draw out the kiss and make it gentle. He wasn't expecting me to show him that I wasn't looking to get laid, that I was genuinely interested in him, teasing him, challenging him. That challenge was met. I stoked his jaw with my thumb. His hands gripped the sides of my shirt. He tilted his head, letting me go deeper.
When we broke apart, he said, "I like kissing you." He kissed me a few more times.
"You. Can. Mm. …Much. As. You. Like." I said in between kisses.
We broke apart for good, unfortunately, when the cab pulled up beside us. He slid into the backseat and tugged me in with him. As I leaned out to shut the door, his hand found mine and his long, cold fingers wrapped around mine. The dull glow of the streetlights only partly illuminated my blush. But he wasn't facing me, so I didn't catch his expression. Instead he stared out the window to the busy streets, letting in a soft breeze of cool night air.
There was something about him. It was different. If this were any other night, I'd be nervous about meeting a new person. I'd be wondering what to talk about, how to act, what kind of person they were, what our relationship was going to be like. I'd be thinking about how lucky I was going to get tonight. I'd be scared of insulting them. I'd be scared they wouldn't laugh at my jokes. Or actually find me funny at all.
This is different. I hardly knew him, but I felt totally comfortable with him. We talked, we danced, we kissed and already I feel like we've been with each other for decades.
Weird, huh?
Beside me, he started laughing. With eyes till turned to the street, he pointed out the window. Like life outside the cab was the funniest thing in the world. Like each passerby, dirty drug store, adult movie theater, club goer, and greasy Pizza store was hilarious. I found myself laughing along with him. For no reason. It just felt good. The world was just funny like that.
But we were both pretty drunk, too.
"You're my favorite person to ride home with." He told me. "I dub you…"
"Matt." I supplied, laughing.
"Matt," He shot me a grin, "I dub you, Excellence of Cab Riding Company, Braveheart of the Taxi Cab Stench, Caller of the Nighttime Transportation, Beseecher of the Yellow Cab company, Navigator of the Midnight Traffic, Conqueror of the…" He laughed. "Conquered?"
"That's not an escapist's way of asking me to pay, is it?"
"What?"
"You're not sticking me with the bill, are you?"
He looked at me sheepishly. "Yes I am."
"Can you at least tell me your name in return?"
He shook his head, zipped his lips, and threw out the key.
I almost rolled my eyes at how childish he was acting. "You're not going to make me guess, are you?"
He made a show of considering it. Then he resigned and said, "It's Mello."
Hmm. Interesting. I felt the grin break on my face. "Okay, Mels, do you spell your name with a W at the end?"
"Mels?"
"Suits you." I said.
He smiled in a non-obvious way. Mostly there was a light in his eyes. Then he paused for a moment and I could see that he suddenly looked tired. "No." He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "What kind of person do you think I am?"
He was struggling to stay awake. His head was close to leaning on my shoulder.
"I'm trying to figure that out." The smile formed on my lips slowly. "But definitely someone who wouldn't finish their name with a W."
His eyelids flickered shut. Then, finally, his forehead nodded low enough to land on my shoulder. For the rest of the ride back to his apartment, he was sound asleep.
I squeezed his hand, which I never stopped holding, and rested my head against his. "Wake me up when we get there." I told the cab driver. Soon enough, I drifted off the sleep.
My hands weakly held onto his sides. I felt the soft leather of his jacket under my fingertips. My eyes stayed shut, but my lips were moving long before a single thought formed. Before I recognized anything else, I recognized the feeling of Mello's lips on mine. God, I could do this forever. Even in my hazy confusion, he was clear. This was clear.
I wasn't in the backseat of the cab. All around me, I felt the chill of late night air. Concrete. Everywhere. Felt like I was sitting on stairs. I let go of Mello's waist and swatted the air around me. My hand closed around a bar in the stairs railing. If we were on the stairs outside of Mello's apartment complex, how did we get here?
"Mmm." I tried to resist. That was impossible.
"Shh," he murmured.
"Can I get woken up like this everyday?" I said against his mouth. I liked being kissed awake. Especially by Mello. It was fun.
He finally pulled back and my eyes fluttered open. I realized that he was sitting in my lap, with his arms around my neck. It turns out we really were on the stairs outside of his apartment complex. I was holding him steady on my lap. My smile was slow and sheepish. "Hi."
Pushing his hair over his shoulder, he shot me a smug grin. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"
"Ohhh yeah."
"Then it wasn't rape." He said matter-of-factly.
"Okay." Did I cry no? Not sure. Possibly? Probably not, though.
"Good. Nice talk." He stood up and pulled me up with him. I stumbled back into his arms.
"You're welcome." I said into his shoulder.
We were both laughing all the way to his apartment door.
Mello leaned me against the wall as he reached to unlock the door. I curled up against his side and started pressing soft, wet kisses on his neck. "Hold up there." I saw him fight the smirk spreading across his lips. "We're almost inside." Jamming his key into the lock, it gave way and he kicked the door open. "Welcome to la maison de Mello."
"Are you French?" I asked. Explained his way of kissing. Perfectly.
"Naw, I just said it in French to make it sound fancy." He gestured into his apartment. "It's really just a shithole."
"Mm." I said against his collarbone.
"Come on, I already carted your ass out the cab. Fatass, you're walking on your own."
"You don't have anything with wheels? A cane? A scooter? A crowbar? A breadbox? Anything that would aid me in walking?"
"Damn, I ate the last of my bread last week. You're going have to walk on your own two legs. Shit happens. Life is fucked up. Everyday it will rain." He raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you really want the clichés to keep comin'?"
"Nope. I'm inside."
"Good. Let's get this party started." He flicked the lights on. "I think there's a radio in the kitchen." Throwing his coat over the back of his couch, he disappeared into the other room. "It might be broken. So the songs might autotune themselves. Or remix themselves. Not gonna lie, you might hear some dubstep."
I threw my jacket on the floor near the door. "Is that a band?"
"No, Matty, it's a genre of music. You take a song and remix it with techno beats. Mostly I think people add in heavier bass covers." He came back into the room, flicking the choppy pieces of hair that I assume to have once been bangs out of his eyes. "At least, that's my take on it."
My eyebrows shot up. "Did you just call me 'Matty'?"
He shrugged, handing me a beer. "Suits you."
I knocked my beer into his. "For Frodo." I toasted.
"For Sauron." He challenged, smirking.
My eyes narrowed. Oh hell no. "For Zelda."
"For Ganondorf."
"For the Millenium Falcon."
"For the Death Star."
"For Washington."
"For Lincoln."
"For the Pythagorean Theorem."
"For the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus Part 1."
"Not Part 2?" I was shocked. "What about evaluating integrals with the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus Part 2?"
"Pssh, naw, you can use geometry for that shit. Besides, antiderivatives can kiss my asymptote."
Ha. Math humor. I wasn't going to argue that, so I drank my beer. Mello shot me a cheeky grin. With his free hand, he punched buttons on his radio. Soon Lady GaGa's "Marry the Night" poured out from the dusty speakers.
"It doesn't sound that-"
Then it started skipping in a way that Lady GaGa did not intend. Her voice raised, still stuttering, almost to compete with a chipmunk's. It butchered the chorus, then it dropped to a low, impossibly synthetic decibel, sounding like that standard creepy caller voice that masked a person's true tone.
"Bad." I finished.
"Sounds like shit Ke$ha would sing."
"Not that good." I motioned to his broken radio. "You could fix that, but it's funnier this way."
A grin spread across his face. "Your reactions to everything amuse me." He downed some more beer. "Dance with me." He demanded. "Show me the moves you used back in the club."
I threw an arm around his waist and twirled him into a waltz, which was difficult since we were both still holding our drinks. But there wasn't much room in his apartment, so we resigned to holding each other close and swaying from side to side. "Which ones?"
Mello rested his head on my shoulder and looped his thumbs through the belt loops of my jeans. "You were doing this thing where you horse stance with your legs, but you raise your hands above your head and bat the air wildly. It's friggen hilarious. Your face stays serious even though your body is basically convulsing upright."
"I've got mad skill." I sniffed, sipping my beer defensively. "You're just jealous."
The song switched to LMFAO's "Sexy and I Know It", but I could barely recognize it through all the static. In my arms, Mello's head snapped up. His eyes lit up excitedly. I laughed. "I swear the government could use that radio of yours to tell if there are subliminal messages in songs these days."
"Shut up." He said, breaking hold. "It's time to tear the roof the fuck down."
I gestured to his cramped living room. "Well, seeing how you have so much room to flail around…"
"That's what I have a couch for." I could almost hear the childish silly at the end of his comment.
"Dancing on the couch?" I took a slug of my beer, hoping that another mouthful would impair my better judgment. "I haven't jumped on anything since I was like six years old and that was my bed until I slipped and knocked a tooth out by smacking my face on my nightstand."
"Tell your six year old self not to be scared to dance on the couch with me."
"I'd tell him but he's excited about completing the final quest of the Assassin's Guild in Oblivion. He's distracted, so I can't through to him. Oh, and he's complaining about spilling apple juice on his blue brontosaurus shirt."
"Oblivion? I only had a few G.I. Joes and Tonka Trucks." Mello jumped on to the couch and offered me a hand to join him.
I took it. Once I got up on the cushions, Mello took my hands and danced close to me. And close for him meant he was basically dancing up on me. I didn't care. I was laughing and drinking along with him. I even tried to fist pump to "You Da One" by Rihanna. Mello watched me carefully, waiting for the moment when I'd hit my head on the ceiling. He choked on his beer when I finally did hit my head. He caught me as I stumbled towards to edge of the couch, laughing and calling me a dumbass. We danced through a few more songs, singing all the wrong lyrics. He showed me how good his snake was and after a couple more songs, I humored him with my flailing horse stance dance.
Mello laughed so hard he nearly fell of the couch.
Say it's young love at it's best and I tell you I'll remember