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"You Get Me So High" -The Neighbourhood
October 31st, 2002 11:23pm
Loud chatter and laughs, the clinking of glasses and 'cheers' being said all around. You leaned against the kitchen wall, red solo cup sat comfortably in your hand.
Brian made his way back to you, his axe slung over his shoulder. Your matching Jack and Wendy costumes had gained some attraction around, most people here having seen The Shining.
"Did you see Tim's costume?" Brian took a sip of his own drink. "Oh yeah, he nailed the Chucky look." Your eyes made their way to where Tim was currently standing, the multicolored striped shirt paired with overalls surely giving him some attention.
Sudden shouts acted as an indicator to let everyone know they were about to play spin the bottle, a teen holding up an empty wine bottle.
A good amount of people piled into the living room of the frat house, pushing furniture out of the way to make more room for everyone to sit in a big circle. You found yourself being separated from Brian, him sitting smooshed between Tim and another guy.
A guy dressed as Marty from Back to The Future spun the bottle, it landing on someone you didn't know too well, this action repeating after the second time.
You sat zoning out for a second as the rounds went on and on—before the bottle landed on you. Your heart rate skyrocketed, your eyes trained strictly on the bottle as the teen spun it, the glass bottle soon stopping on none other than your best friend.
This is both a blessing and a curse in your eyes, a sheet of pink covering your face. Brian's eyes met yours as he hoisted himself through the middle of the circle, nearing you.
It happened quickly, but it felt like forever in your mind. His hand had cupped your cheek before the space between you disappeared for about a second. He pulled away, the drunk teenagers screaming, much like they did after every round.
A smile never left your face, still being able to feel his lips on yours. It was certainly a feeling you never wanted to forget.
July 4th, 2010 9:34pm
It's been a while since you and Jay said your last goodbyes, the memory of that night slowly slipping from your everyday thought.
Your life slowly began to get back on track. No more waking up in the middle of the woods, no more losing months of memory at a time, no more tapes, no more Operator.
You could hold steady work and actually sleep at night.
Your hands brushed against the marble countertop briefly as you grasped your cup of coffee. You understood you shouldn't be drinking coffee this late, but who's here to stop you?
You never really got used to the apartment being this empty. As much as you hated to admit it, you actually liked Jay's company. You never did well when alone.
The muffled sound of fireworks exploding, an array of multicolored explosions appearing in the sky. You didn't have plans for the Fourth of July, so you decided to stay home to just chill.
Your feet slid across the tile, bracelet rubbing against your skin slightly. Half of the time you forget it's there, when you're not fumbling with the colored strings as a nervous tic.
An explosion paired with an almost inaudible thud came to your attention. Your head slowly turned around the room, scanning to where it could've possibly come from.
You let yourself sit on the couch, anxiety rising as your mind raced—refusing to turn off. You sipped your coffee, another explosion being matched with a thud from the same direction.
Then again, you could be imagining this.
But, however, your anxiety wouldn't let you forget it. You forced yourself to just forget about it; ignore it.
You propped your feet up on the coffee table, trying to relax as much as possible. Your eyes averted to the bottle rockets exploding in the sky through the window, the scattering different explosions mixing colors together.
G chord.
Cadd9 chord.
It didn't quite register with you at first.
D chord.
G chord.
The chords popped in your head as their audible counterpart emitted out.
Cadd9 chord.
D chord.
Your thoughts suddenly stopped as it finally set in that you weren't playing any music. The familiar tune shot your anxiety through the roof, the lack of words slightly disturbing you.
You could tell it was coming from your room, the chords being emitted from the hallway.
You slowly got up, making your way to the stretched hallway, your feet being as quiet as possible as the tune got louder.
It suddenly stopped as you nearly rounded through your bedroom door frame. All that was left is an empty room.
You felt like you were going insane.
Though the only indicator that anyone was here was the acoustic guitar that laid out on your newly made bed—that you most definitely did not make.
You slowly stepped forwards, a shaky hand grazing the surface of the guitar, the aged exterior obvious under the light. Questions popped in and out of your head—none answered.
You carefully picked the instrument up, your hands having little to no muscle memory with it. You only remembered little of how to play guitar, only knowing the basics.
You hesitantly strummed, the standard tuned melody emitting from the instrument. It sounded well tuned, the sound clean and pleasing to your ears.
You set the guitar down back where you found it, deciding to deal with it later as you walk back to the living room. The explosions of color were still bursting outside in the night sky as you sat down on the couch.
