e.u.p.h.o.r.i.c

chapter two

apartment | evening | pov: mo

The name startled me. The radiation of exhilaration from him inspired me. The boldness of his choice strengthened me. And one thing... the very euphoria I felt from him.

Glitch. Glitches, the first thing you'd remember would be a short circuit. Or a techno error. Sophisticated and new. Futuristic. Revolutionary. The complete opposite of myth and fantasy.

It reminded me of his breakdancing. He was a pop-it-lock-it breakdancer, and songs he would be suitable with would be similar to his chosen name.

There was Satisfaction, a song that played itself in my head right away. Then I smiled. In that very song was a move called none other than Glitch itself.

The song he'd danced to before, Yeah! fitted him too. The song had a trigger to it; I knew it did. And he looked amazing when he did Longboard Breaker. The electrolytic reverie in his eyes when he did it. Moving along with the beat.

Then there was I Wish For You by EXILE... a Japanese song that I was rather fond of. Somehow, I felt like this would be a suitable song as well. I could imagine him dancing to it already.

Mai Ai Hee by O-ZONE, now that was a simple warmup song that matched him. Not only was it easy, it had the beat that I knew he would like. I didn't know why, but I always had a soft spot for foreign language songs.

One last song that replayed in my head was just that; Replay by Iyaz. I depicted him doing the song and joined it with an image of a dance background. And it fit like a puzzle piece.

"Glitch." I considered it for a moment. In more than one way, it was perfect. It was many things all in one. An illustration of him. An image of his past, even though all I knew about it was that he had nothing; nothing but his dance skills.

Then I turned back to him – Glitch – and realized that he wasn't there. Concerned, I peered into the back of my apartment. He wasn't there. I dashed upstairs, my feet flying in whirls. I pushed the door to my room open. I saw my bed, my desk, my laptop – no Glitch. My mind reeled as I tried to recall what I had said to him. Then I remembered. When I had sent him to change, I had told him of a spare room in the house. It was completely empty except for a mattress; the ideal place for him to go.

"Glitch?" I called. "Glitch? Hey, kid?" And, sure as heck, he was there. When I had opened the door, his head had been hanging down low, his back hunched. Once I had called to him, he flailed around to meet my worried eyes. I could see his right hand, which was gripping his left wrist, which had a watch on it ever since he came here, protectively, but I didn't ask him any questions. I waited for him to speak first.

"You don't like it, do you?" His voice was raspy, and he spoke so slowly that I couldn't detect any trace of his accent. He broke eye contact with me, focusing on the floor. Ephemeral as it was, his words were enough to convince me that he himself was unsure of the name. An image of his earlier confidence conjured up in my head; I eliminated the thought before it went any further. And even though my heart cringed, I refrained from probing him further about the name.

"What?" I already knew what he would answer with, but I let him reply for me.

"Glitch. Ya don't like it, huh?" He sighed deeply.

I knew it would have been futile to try, but I just had to help him. "You know you're lying to yourself when you say those things, Glitch. Don't even try to fool me." I attempted to encourage him. "You know you are. And even if you choose Glitch as your name, then so be it. Your moves are flawless, adroit, unbeatable, and everything in between. And did you ever consider how good you were at breakdancing? I think I'd be blown away if you could do something just as good as dancing!"

He laughed softly. "Well, I do get along with skateboarding."

I grinned. "Then I'd be flying at a hundred and ninety six miles per hour, caught in the wind of your talent."

Then he shoved me. "Dude, talent is no cyclone."

Shouldering him gently, I comforted him further. "Then it was the wind of your ambition. It ain't no old zephyr, no, it was the tornado that blew Dance Central towards you."

"Then it's a wonder why the kid's ain't flyin' kites 'round 'ere," he played along.

His lightening spirit was like fire, and my apartment was in ashes. "They're scared of getting hit by flying debris. Like maybe a tree ripped out of the ground."

Trapped in a labyrinth of wordplay, he described the scheme and its details again. "This place could have Lady Liberty's torch sticking out of it, then."

"The moon would be at Kansas."

"What, has the Earth's gravity become ten times stronger?"

"Yeah, yeah."

He took advantage of my humorous air. "Then why don't 'cha get m' a skateboard? Maybe then the real fire will burn and the sky would fall."

Unfortunately for him, I still had self-control amid my mirth. "Nice try, bro. It doesn't work that way, though. If you really want to be my protégé, you'll need to work for it. And we need to think up our crew name and outfits."

Well, now he looked crestfallen. But the look on his face was different from before; it was like he was in heart-rending pain before, like he was trapped in a world with no escape. Now he just looked like a kid denied from using his money on a useless toy... which he provably was.

"Aw, come on, bro. Don't 'cha know what it feels like when ya can't have what ya want when it's jus' an inch from yer reach?" His face screwed up in the best pleading face I've seen in my life. It was so hard to ignore his pleas. Like leaving your milk glass out of your house cat's pounce range.

"Nope, and no means no. Not until we put our work into our new crew." I kept my voice persistent. Glitch groaned inwardly. "Ya said 'nope,' not 'no,' so technically ya haven't told m' what 'cha meant to say." I crossed my arms. He rolled his eyes. "Fine. But can we do it tomorrow?"

I hesitated, then nodded. It had been a difficult day for the both of us. I would have expected him to be tired. And he did show symptoms of exhaustion, so I got up to prepare his room for him. He said he needed no more than the mattress, a pillow, a bolster, and, surprisingly, he also asked for an mp3 player. "I just thought it would be easier for me to sleep with it," he had said. I obliged, not really thinking about it.

He downloaded a great deal of songs right away; he was so obsessed with the headphones and the music that I decided to be warm hearted, and thus I let him claim them as his. He thanked me and began to play songs with it. After gathering the stuff he needed to sleep at night, I entertained myself by guessing which songs he played, and then asking him whether or not I was right. I aced most of the time, especially with Satisfaction and Mai Ai Hee. He never heard of I Wish For You, however, but fell on love with it once I recommended the song. It was hard not to tutor him dance moves, as I had really wanted to teach him. I had to hold myself back by repeating the sentence He'll learn tomorrow, he'll learn tomorrow...

After he was done satisfying himself with the mp3 player, I decided it was time for us to get some sleep. Luckily, it didn't take me long to get the kid tucked in. He smiled at me, eyes still half-closed to keep his hair out of them. "Good night," I whispered before walking out the door. He plugged his mp3 player headphones. I didn't know which songs he played, but I expected them to be slow and acoustic. Maybe something like Maroon 5's She Will Be Loved or Tyga's Far Away. Yeah, I know too many songs. Bear with me.

He shut his eyes and didn't reply. From the faint light streaming behind me, I caught a grin on his face fading into a frown. His happiness subdued into the shadows of the room, and his glowing eyes burned both pale and dark. Worried, I closed the door silently.

Soon I was in my own bed. I missed hanging out with my bros, but I was pretty tired. I turned off the lights and let myself drown in sleepiness.

It felt like no time had passed since then when I woke up. No light shone past the curtains of my window; it must be nighttime. On a hunch, I decided to check on the kid. Glitch's room wasn't too far away.

Groggily, I rubbed my eyes and slowly, quietly made my way to his room door. Walking through the short corridor, my shadow followed me, cast by the one light I kept on at night. As I opened the door, I mused at the fact that I was lucky; the door didn't creak when I pushed it inwards. Inside, the faint light revealed an empty mattress. I tiptoed towards it and confirmed that Glitch wasn't there.

I wondered where he was. What was left was his mp3 player. I scrolled through his immense playlist of songs. His choices shocked me. One song was My Immortal by Evanescence. I quickly recited the lyrics in my head. I left the mp3 player to do the rest.

I'm so tired of being here

Suppressed by all my childish fears

And if you have to leave

I wish that you would just leave

'Cause your presence still lingers here

And it won't leave me alone

I quickly wondered why Glitch was listening to this song. It did not surprise me, however. I felt like there was more to this kid's past than a simple life near the subways. Perhaps drowning his sadness in this melodic symphony was a way for him to stay strong and not break down.

These wounds won't seem to heal

This pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase

This paragraph made me wonder what made Glitch listen to this. While listening, I noticed that his pillow was striped with lines of darkness; tears. Were these lyrics too true to Glitch, and did he think that there really was too much that time couldn't erase? Heart pounding, I continued my lyric search.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still –

I took the headphones off. I felt bad for Glitch. I couldn't listen to much more without having to confront him. I knew I wouldn't get much of an answer anyway. Was Glitch believing in these words? I put the headphones back on, swallowing.

seem to heal

This pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone

But though you're still with me

I've been alone all along

I shivered, thinking of Glitch again. I felt worried, more than ever. Was he really that lonely? I resolved to get him to speak, even if all I got was an obscure hint of reality.

Then the music changed and I found myself listening to Untitled by Simple Plan.

I open my eyes

I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light

I can't remember how, I can't remember why

I'm lying here tonight

I knew that tonight would have been very different for Glitch, even if I knew nothing of his history. I replayed the scene that occurred when I met him. Dusty shoes, torn clothes, a dirty black leather watch, and every aspect leading to one word: abandonment. He would have been blinded by many... by the world suddenly acting kind to him. Perhaps he worried that it would turn on him again.

And I can't stand the pain

And I can't make it go away

No, I can't stand the pain

Pain... what sort of pain was this? Was it violence? Mental torture? Whatever it was, it was taking a huge toll from him. When I come to a certain topic, he'd become as silent as a rock. He worried me.

How could this happen to me? I've made my mistakes

Got nowhere to run, the night goes on

As I'm fading away, I'm sick of this life

I just wanna scream, how could this happen to me?

What happened to Glitch before? Angry, I knew I had heard enough. I got up and left the room, returning only to make it look like I never got in, in case the kid was doing something and would be back.

Without another clue, I decided to go downstairs. I went soundlessly past the kitchen door – and found Glitch holding something I had never expected him to wield.

A knife.

My breath caught in my throat. I hid myself best as I could, though it was almost a guarantee that he wouldn't see me; his eyes were the same glassy emerald green that I saw when I asked him his name. They weren't focused on anything in particular; the delirium he was trapped in robbed him of all caution. He was frozen on the spot, and the flat end of the blade was in a greatly dreaded, deadly position: on his left wrist, above his black watch.

As I watched in sheer horror, he pressed the flat of the blade against his wrist. I knew I couldn't show myself to him; his right hand could slip and the blade could injure him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted the blade. Then I saw him lift it up to eye level. There he balanced it. It was as if he were studying the blade, but I would never know for sure, as he had shuffled his feet so that his back was faced towards me, but I could see a bit of his hands now. Faint hints of light bounced off of the glinting silver surface of the knife, reflecting strange patterns flecked across the dark room. He ran a finger over the flat edge of the knife. I shrank back in fear.

I wanted to run over to him and tell him to stop this nonsense; somehow I knew he wouldn't listen anyway. A small part inside me screamed, telling me to stop him, stop him at all cost. The more sensible part of me told me just to watch. Even if I had a choice, my feet were stuck to the floor and my hands were still in the crooked position of a criminal. I couldn't move, the fear that held me in place was too great.

"No." I stiffened at the quiet murmur he let out. He said more words, but they were hushed and I could only make so little of his speech that it was impossible to capture their meaning. His voice was almost expressionless, without a trace of the laughter and happiness when I offered him to be in my crew-to-be. I couldn't detect any sign of emotion at all, positive nor negative.

Then Glitch was silent again, and he laid the blade on his left wrist again. Then he flipped his hand, so that the knife's flat edge rested on the back of his hand. I heard a soft clinking sound as the knife hit a piece of metal on his watch. Glitch stopped moving at the noise, frozen. I saw him hesitate and set the blade down on the kitchen counter. Then his right hand touched his watch, caressing its leather as if it were the head of a baby bird. He said more words, words that, I knew, belonged to him and him alone. The opalescent weapon caught my eye; to my complete and utter relief, I saw not a hint of red on the blade. He had not hurt himself. For now.

Before I could show myself, his right hand groped for the knife handle again. My conscience yelled at me, No! No! No! Stop him! Through the doorway I stood, my mind racing at his oblivion. He was still in his trance, moving slowly and gracefully as if he were guided not by mind or choice, but by the haunts if the past.

Then he turned around and I caught the look on his face just before I whipped around to hide. I heard a sound that was similar to the sound of a sword being sheathed. True enough, he was sliding the knife back into its cover. I let out the breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding.

Afraid of getting caught, I did the most sensible thing I could: race back to my room and stay there, hoping and praying that Glitch wouldn't touch that cursed knife again. Faint and shapeless shadows moved about on the floor's surface. I hurried up the stairs, my steps muffled as I moved as cautiously as if I were being targeted with a gun.

I swung the door to my room to a half-opened state. Slipping inside, I left the door open, just a crack. I saw Glitch's lithe, thin silhouette cross the door, blocking all light from entering my room. I shivered. Don't tell me... I shut my eyes, trying to banish my dreading thoughts. I struggled to lock them up behind thoughts of him as my new crew buddy, his dance talents, and training him to dance tomorrow. But, somehow, all my thoughts circled back to where I started, and I couldn't put to bed those phobias. It was almost impossible to explain the tornado of twisted feeling coursing through me.

I felt as if forever had passed once I managed to convince myself to check on Glitch again. Even if he's still awake, I can just scold him for not sleeping. He won't remember to ask me why I'm awake myself. Steeling my nerves, I got up and prowled to his doorway. Glitch didn't move when the door was opened. After a few second of tense breathing, I braved inside. His face was streaked with tears. Fresh tears. Even though he was sleeping, he appeared to be having some sort of nightmare. Like he was fighting against something in his dreams. And that he was struggling.

Seeing him like this roused a strange feeling in me. Where was the enigmatic, carefree dancer? Where was the brave, strong-willed, determined boy? Where was my new protégé, eager and determined? Where was he, the Glitch that left me mind-blown, hardly able to believe him to hold and hone such skills? All that was left, all that I could see now, was a broken, confused shell of his former self.

Where was the real Glitch?