âmes pétillantes ~ classic rock imagines

• Jim Morrison (II) •

Do I love writing about Jim a little too much at the moment? Yes. Am I thinking of giving you a double whammy of Morrison with the flimsy excuse that it was my birthday this week? Yes! Anyway, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the lovely easy-bake-coven ! Your supportive comments really mean a lot, and I hope this little slice of Jim satisfies you! 😊

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Surprisingly, you'd never tried acid before. It had been Jim's high of choice since before you'd even met him, and the others were partial to a tab or two on harder days, but the drug had never made its way into your hands. At least, not until now.

Jim was standing in front of you, talking animatedly, but you were examining the innocent looking tab pinched between your finger and thumb as though it would bite you at any moment. It was as inconspicuous as a piece of paper, the only distinguishable feature being some faint letters that you couldn't even read. Measuring almost the same size as your thumbnail, you would easily have brushed it into the bin without a thought if Jim hadn't told you what it was.

You couldn't believe you were admitting this to yourself, but you were curious. You'd seen what acid had done to your friends and you were well aware what a bad trip was, yet still you were actually considering giving it a shot. What harm could it do, really? Jim had ingested more acid than food, and he was still alive. Just. Besides, everyone else was doing it. So...

Suddenly, Jim's tan skin broke through your line of vision, engulfing your hand in his own to draw your attention once more. He had stopped talking upon realising that you weren't paying attention, and was now looking at you with a hooded gaze.

"You don't have to Y/N," he cooed gently in his silken voice, "but it'll make everything go away."

You'd been having a rough time of it lately. The four boys of the Doors had been trying everything to make you feel better, from silly pranks to disastrous blind dates, but you still felt stuck in a rut. Jim, in particular, had been stretching to the very corners of his labyrinthine mind to dig out ways of making your smile brighter.

Your relationship with Jim was odd. But then again, whose wasn't?

You'd gone to college together, lived together, holidayed together, slept together, done anything you could to find solace in one another throughout the past confused, twisting years. What either of you did outside of your on-and-off relationship wasn't the others business. Both of you were there when the other needed them, and that was all that mattered.

And when you'd needed Jim, he had come through. Or, at least, tried his very best to. Everything Jim and the boys had tried to boost you up just hadn't hit the mark. This, it seemed, was your last resort, at least according to Jim. However, since the mysterious trip had started as his last resort and quickly become his steady crutch, to say you were still a little doubtful was an understatement.

But...

"Everything?" you asked, almost desperately. Knowing you were falling under his spell, Jim smiled his school boy grin and nodded slowly. Letting go of your hand but not your attentive focus, he strode over to the window and threw open the curtains like a ringmaster.

"It'll be a whole new world out there," Jim announced assuredly, spreading his arm out wide towards the twilight scene outside the thin glass pane.

Waiting for you there was the regular world that you were growing tired of seeing. The same old street that you woke up to every repetitive morning, the same old people slogging along the same old pavement in their same old lives. And, all the while, your same old life chugged right on beside them. It was the Swinging Sixties, yet you couldn't even manage a meagre wave.