Inspired
This chapter was inspired by the song: Kick Ass by Mika.
Kick Ass
Matthew sealed the front door quietly behind him and, checking to see that it was locked, stepped lightly down from the porch. It was dark except for the streetlight glowing further down road, and he used this as a beacon to navigate his way.
It was the first clear night in a week of spring showers and it was nice to finally leave the house without an umbrella.
The only sounds were his footsteps echoing dully on the rain slicked pavement and the soft rustle of leaves from a barely there wind. There was a chill on the air, and Matthew tugged the hood of his sweater over his unruly blonde curls, but it did little to keep him warm. He slipped his hands into his pockets.
When he reached the end of the road, instead of turning left or right, he simply leant against the lamppost and waited beneath the halo of light.
He did not have to wait long; soon the gentle humming of an approaching figure tickled his ears.
Gilbert sidled up beside him and swung an arm over his shoulder, steering Matthew left and down another road without pause. He was pale in the moonlight; impossibly so, and his typically bright eyes were cast in shadow and several shades darker than usual. He was wearing trainers with worn soles, torn jeans, and a sweater thrown haphazardly over his cotton shirt. The sweater was unzipped and, for a second, Matthew worried.
"Your sweater."
Gilbert paused in his humming to glance at Matthew.
"My sweater?"
"It's undone."
Gilbert turned his gaze downwards to see that, why yes, his sweater was trailing open in the light wind. The wind was so gentle that it barely even stirred his fine silver hair, and could not lift the weight of Matthew's curls at all.
"Okay…?"
Matthew sighed and stepped in front of Gilbert; grabbing the front of the garment and fumbling in search for the zipper. When he found the two ends, he slipped one inside the other, and pulled the zipper up against Gilbert's chest; smoothing his palms over the fabric in satisfaction.
Gilbert cocked an eyebrow but Matthew avoided his stare in favour of bending down and curiously running a finger through the tear in Gilbert's jeans. He hissed as Matthew drew a bloodied finger away from the wound and narrowed his eyes in barely concealed frustration.
"What did you do now?"
Gilbert scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"I had a little trouble hopping the fence."
"Oh, is that all?" Matthew growled as he searched for one of the sticking plasters forever hidden in his pockets. He had long since learnt to carry such things when sneaking out with Gilbert.
Finally finding one, he removed the backing and poised it over the scratch. He wiped some of the blood away with the sleeve of his own sweater as softly as he could, and certainly softer than Gilbert deserved for making him worry, and pressed the adhesive strip against his knee.
When he looked up from his handiwork, he could see Gilbert watching him with an odd mixture of intensity and distant thought. There was a rare, tender smile playing across his lips.
Matthew huffed and set off down the road; expecting Gilbert to follow, and he indeed fell into step beside him.
There was a stillness to the night, beautiful and comforting in its grasp, that would be difficult to explain to someone who had never wandered the streets after dark. The wet pavement reflected what little light there was in hazy amber whilst the puddles flickered in the shadows of crooked, gnarled trees. Everything was quiet, in this place just for them, except for the scuffing of their shoes on concrete and the whistle of their breath. If they did pass someone on their way, they could share a nod and a wink and a casual wave without saying a word. There was a mutual understanding amongst those who travelled by moonlight.
It was in this place after midnight; this moment when the rest of the town lay sleeping, that all of the best ideas were theirs for the taking. And an idea could change the world.
The road changed from cracked concrete to gravel to dirt as the two followed a hidden path through the trees and down the bank of a river. In the distance, a train rattled nervously over an old bridge. The conductor blew the horn and the harsh note must have carried for miles, but this too was comforting in its familiarity. They orientated themselves towards the sound; carefully pressing each foot into the mud before adding their full weight to it, lest they slide into the swollen river.
The train was still creaking overhead when Matthew reached the bridge and sank gratefully onto a dry log. The log was aged; pale and worn without bark, and caked in the scrawled names of sweethearts and shattered dreams. Gilbert stalked over to the blackened and burnt barrel; cackling happily when he saw that someone had had the good grace to leave firewood. This was also dry, thanks to the rickety bridge acting as protection against the rain.
Gilbert knelt down to grab the lighter from where it rested inside his sock; against his ankle, and Matthew prayed that the plaster would stay in place.
Gilbert sparked a bonfire with a little coaxing, mingled with curses, and slumped next to Matthew to watch it grow. It started small; just a spluttering of flames, but like all good things in life, it spread. Like a whore spreading rumours; like a bird spreading it's wings; like a lover spread across the sheets.
The others would be coming soon.
"How is your knee?"
"Hmmm? Oh, it's fine," Gilbert nudged Matthew playfully. "You take good care of me."
This was a side of Gilbert seldom seen by daylight but when the sun went down, so did his guard. Matthew liked this side of him, and it was the main reason he bothered sneaking out on a school night.
"Somebody has to."
Matthew turned towards the shuffling of someone stumbling down the path. Arthur stepped into the dancing firelight and nodded his head in greeting. Soon, Francis and Antonio slipped into the light; smiling wickedly with their hands in each other's pockets.
Hushed voices rose in a chorus of laughter despite efforts to quell the sound.
Twins slinked down the path, and Antonio disentangled himself from Francis in order to drape over one of the twins. The imposing figure of Ivan skulked purposely towards the fire and sat on the ground to watch delightedly as the kindling burnt to coals and cinders.
Toris and Feliks staggered through the grass, with Feliks chattering much too loudly and Toris desperately trying to quiet him.
Another train passed overhead as Elizaveta pulled Roderich towards the others and smiled brilliantly. Roderich pushed the glasses perched on the tip of his nose back into place and scowled, but did not remove his hand from where it was tangled between her fingers.
Perfect.
Matthew leant against Gilbert, content in this moment and basking in the dreamlike qualities of this place after midnight. Gilbert was humming again, and it was almost lost amongst the laughter of their friends.
In the morning, they would return to that never ending ebb and flow of hormones, gossip, broken hearts and broken homes. But by the moonlight, no one was looking for where they belonged; it was here, and now.
They were young. They were free.
And the whole world was theirs for the taking.
Author's Note:
Ummm… Yes, obviously I was feeling contemplative. I firmly believe that only those who have wandered the streets by the quiet of night can understand that surreal, dreamlike quality that drifts through the air. You are separate from everyone else and the world is a different place when painted in deep blues and blacks. Okay… Obviously, I am still feeling contemplative. This was inspired both by the song and by a late night stroll. By the way, a sticking plaster is also known as a 'bandaid'.
The characters that came to visit came on their own; I had no say in it, so there is an unusual smattering. This one shot deals with the idea of being a youth; of growing up and discovering who you are at the root of it all. Who you are in those quiet moments after midnight.
Yes, a bit of an odd post, but please remember to leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. Feel free to leave an anonymous review.