𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

9

"I'm going back to 505,
If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive.
In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side,
with your hands between your thighs." 

I SMILED AS ALEX TURNER'S VOICE flooded into both my ears. It was 6pm and I was on the plush bed of my hotel room, my phone in my hands and earphones plugged into my ears, listening to The Arctic Monkey's 505. It had been years since I last heard the song, I had forgotten how much I loved it. My hair was fanning the cream pillow and I had taken a shower and changed into comfortable clothes before I would have to dress up for the concert tonight at 10pm. 

It was this ecstatic feeling that songs I used to listen to brought me, it felt like I was listening to a constant companion, always in the background waiting for me to listen to them again. Something from the past that brought me closer to myself. I have so much to say, but I doubt I could ever explain it to anyone who asks. I don't know how to talk about the things I loved or still love, I've never known how to. Maybe because I wasn't in practice, I've never truly known people who ask each other about such things, Mickey is still so young to find anything more interesting than toy planes, and my mom has no energy for such things. 

It doesn't bother me, even though I would love for someone, anyone, to tell me about their favorite things. To sit and hear someone talk while they gush over the songs they love, or people they love, to watch their eyes sparkle. Would my eyes sparkle too? 

"Not shy of a spark,
the knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark.
Frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark,
the middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start." 

I heard a muffled thud amidst my song, followed by a series of more muffled thuds. I took my ear phones out and heard the loud knocks on my door. I glanced at the clock in the room, it was only 20 minutes past 6, I couldn't be required just now. As far as I know, Trippie was sleeping, an obligatory rest before the show. Maybe he had woken up, maybe it was him at the door.

I quickly toss my phone and earphones aside on the bed and walk to the large mirror in my room. I looked fine, presentable, in my oversized black t-shirt and white tights, with my dark hair let down in tired waves. I walked over to the door just as the banging got intense and opened it. It wasn't Trippie, it was Colson. Still in the same attire he was wearing when we had checked into our rooms together. 

His frantic light eyes met mine and his face scrunched up in anger.

"What the fuck were you doing?" He shouted. 

I blinked in shock. "Excuse me?" 

"I've been banging for an hour on this goddamn door," He grunted, letting himself in to my surprise. 

"Please do not exaggerate," I uttered, folding my arms, holding the door to my hotel room open with my elbow because I did not want to be alone with him in a confined space.

"You stood outside for minutes perhaps, but definitely not an hour." 

He spun to face me, still angry as I gathered by the way his pale face was tinted red. 

"Don't play smart with me, princess," He snarled and that is when I noticed he was drunk. Someone like him I would expect to be high at this time, not drunk. 

"What do you want Colson?" I unfolded my arms, holding still onto the door handle with one hand. 

A look crossed his face, something entirely unreadable but vulnerable. I realized it was the first time I had said his name out loud to him. The look was gone when I registered it, replaced by frustration.