Dangers of Daydreaming

Chapter 1

This is my (extremely sad) attempt on a short story. It's a little something that's been living in my head for months. Dedicated to the Augustine Robb of my life.

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Completed: Sep 2013 - Mar 2014

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One of the things that life has taught me, it was that you should always, always, ALWAYS choose a truth over a dare.

            Except when you're feeling extra bold and fearless, then go ahead and embarrass yourself. But if you're a wallflower - an autist - like myself, I strongly suggest you just pick truth, and pray that their pressed question wouldn't be too personal (What's your cup size?) or too crazy (How many boys have you fucked senseless?) or too difficult to share (Who do you like in your class?)

            It's crazy impossible to just share those information with anyone, they might hold it over your head, just so you'd do whatever it was they wanted.

            Blackmail purposes, to put it simply.

            But since I was a stupid, drunk teen that time, I chose a dare. It wasn't really the type of dare that I thought I'd get. And I'd only played that game for about twice or thrice in my life, believe it or not. It was a typical Friday night, and, surprisingly, my parents allowed me to hang out with my friends.

            We were all drunk in Katherine's garage, surrounded the bottle that spun in circles, which also determined whose fate would be in danger of humiliation or revelation at the moment, and laughing and muttering nonsensical words as loud as possible.

            And when it landed on me, I immediately screeched, "Dare! I want a dare!" Followed by a fit of childish giggles. I was obviously not myself that night since I wouldn't be caught dead giggling like I was a kid. "Alright," Katherine spoke, slurring her words but her voice increased with every word. "I dare you...to...to go to the playground a block from here and hang upside down for two minutes!"

            I recalled everyone being so hyped and agreed to what Katherine had said. Although I was intoxicated, I still thought it wasn't such a good idea. But I had to do it, or they'd refuse to give me another bottle of Corona, which I sort of liked already in just a period of thirty minutes.

            I stood up first, almost falling on my face flat on the ground, and ran towards the playground. We all used to play there before, all four of us, when we were still kids, of course. Katherine, Xander, Tom, and I have been friends for as long as I could remember. But since Tom left because of his father's work to the United States, it was only us three.

            Fortunately, he came back again last year. And we were always together since then. I sensed the rest of them following me towards our designation. When I got to the monkey bars, I instantly got a hold of the bars at the highest level, and willed myself to just hang upside down.

            It wasn't exactly rocket science, right?

            Well, I blamed the exceptional trapeze artists and gymnasts that made that position look so damn effortless. It was easier said than done. And I might be right that it wasn't close to the complication of rocket science; it wasn't exactly as simple as adding one plus one anyway.

            My head started pounding when I hung from my neck, closer to the ground than to my chest. I felt bile coming up from the pit of my abdomen; my gastronomical satiety admonished me that it wouldn't end up pretty well if I kept up that little feat of mine. But none of those had mattered, I just laughed at myself and at my friends who laughed along with me.

            Everything looked too inverted and upturned, not in color or hue, but in position. I couldn't imagine the trees having their leaves and fruits as their foundation to the ground, and roots in full-on display to its spectators. I did remember thinking about that, but that night was just a vague memory to me.

            I could've forgotten about that already, but one occurrence that completely stood out from that night had refrained my brain to do so.

            I was supposed to carry myself safely back up, regain my composure, and go back with my friends to Katherine's garage. But when I told myself to do that, apparently, I forgot about the 'carry myself safely back up' part because when my eyes landed on a dark figure, the back of my knees, which I used as a support to the bar, just straightened themselves out, as if they had a mind of their own, and I fell right on my head.

            "Oh, shit crap shit fuck shit." I said out loud, trying to ease the pain by drawing faint circles at the back of my head. I didn't know exactly how un-sober people dealt with pain when they endured one, but I guess I had been pretty drunk to the point that I still felt like laughing out loud, and maybe giggle, amidst the sore twinge in my head.

            "Are you okay?" Someone asked me. Maybe that someone was the figure I saw earlier, I wasn't sure. I noticed that the person that approached me had that detectable American accent, and in came the realization that the person was a complete stranger to me.

            I turned to look at the stranger, and saw a boy, who was probably my age. Normally, I'd be so awkwardly surprised and end up not talking to the person, since the only boys who've talked to me in my whole life were Tom, Xander, and my dad. Oh, and the principal, too. But boys in my age? Just Xander and Tom.

            You could just imagine how sad my life was.

            Yeah, go ahead and talk about how no other guys from ages zero to thirty-five would ever talk to me because I was such a dorky, awkward loser with glasses that didn't compliment my pale complexion, and made my face look too small.

            But since I was a drunken idiot, I didn't do any of those things. Instead, I just stared at him because, damn it, he was a beautiful stranger. Purely American - from accent to stance to features. It has been a long time since I saw someone with that American persona. Most of the Americans had been able to pick up our accent and lived like a typical Aussie.

            "What's your name?" My words were like a blur, but I hoped he had caught it. Besides, I always had my intoxicated state to blame for it. He looked weirdly at me, as if I made him uncomfortable. But he answered anyway, albeit uncertainly, "Gus." I nodded several times, "O, thank you, Gus, my gallant knight in shining armor." I said, almost too exaggeratedly and in that poetic manner, like how Romeo and Juliet conversed.

            It would make much more sense if he ran away from me towards the hills, but he didn't, he just laughed for a few seconds. "Okay, well, let's get you home. Where do you live?" He asked.

            I would have blushed furiously and told him my address, disregarding all warnings from my brain that he might possibly be a psychopathic stalker in disguise - but let's face it, no one would actually think about stalking me.

            So what I did was just about the craziest thing. I hugged him tightly. A stranger. I hugged a stranger - well, an attractive stranger, at that. I wouldn't be caught dead with my arms wrapped around someone as handsome as he, since no one wanted to be that close to me, except my friends and family, of course.

            And after that stupid act, I remembered fainting, because Gus' voice was all I heard until the unbounded nothingness had claimed me.

            But, now, it wasn't too stupid, actually.

            It would've been if I had gotten nothing from it. But, surprisingly, I did. I was able to meet Augustine Robb, even though I was not in my conscious self. And since then, that mere stranger had been the object of my first ever infatuation.