-
It's just a girl. It's just one person in a world full of 7 billion. So why did Ron feel so horrified to talk to her?
Why did his eyes try to wonder everywhere else but to look at her? Ron felt like he had developed a hatred for her.
It wasn't so much as a hatred toward her, it was more like a hatred of the way she saw him. She saw him as something more than a two-minute closet fling. Ever since Ron had actually processed what had happened, he began to beat himself up until he wasn't even excited for the show.
He got himself into this. He could have said no, but now Ron had to hurt her. After that concert he would have to see her. He'd have to do more damage to her than he ever wanted to. Ron was quite soft on the inside himself, so he couldn't imagine how he would feel if he were cut off.
Ron didn't want to be the masculine one in a relationship. The thing that bothered him most was that he was just seen that way because he had muscles and could play the drums. People expected him to be tough, dominant, and in control. He didn't want to be the bigger man. He didn't feel a true attraction to women. Ron was numb, stuck in his wasteland of traditional sexuality. Why couldn't Ron even think of exploring it? Escaping it.
He never surfaced these thoughts into words in his brain. It was more of a specific feeling. It sat in the back of his mind, rotting like a corpse. How did he chase it away? He did this. Usually the women wouldn't mind when he left, which kind of hurt, but was more relieving to him.
He took a good look at Enid, who was sitting on one of the 4 wooden chairs. Feet propped up on the dining room table, laughing hysterically at something Mikey had said to her. She didn't give a damn what people had thought. She found herself, her place. That was in this band. Enid was loyal, and she wasn't going anywhere. She contained the most depth out of all 3 of them. That's why she wrote most of their songs.
People were always surprised to hear that a girl like Enid, a girl who you'd never think would give a second thought about anything, wrote the deep, meaningful lyrics featured in some of their best songs. It was a routine thought to strangers. It deeply offended her, yet she could act like she forgot about it already.
Ron was always jealous that Enid, being younger than him, had still found herself quicker than he had managed to. Nobody would know that though. For being a close band, Ron kept his personal thoughts to himself. Enid and Mikey knew that, but that didn't stop them from sharing theirs. They respected Ron, but still occasionally worried about him.
"Ron." Mikey's voice invaded the thoughts swimming around in Ron's head.
"Hm?" He pursed his lips and looked up from his hands, trying to deliver a look that made him seem happier than he felt. Like he wasn't in an identity crisis.
"We're pulling into the venue." Enid spoke for Mikey, robbing him of the words he parted his lips to say.
Enid tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy.
"Something wrong?"
Ron raised his brows and pointed to himself.
"Hm? Me?" He spoke, acting dumbfounded. She nodded slowly like Ron was an infant.
"Yes. You."
"Nothing." He said in a nonchalant manner. He got up quickly and grabbed his drumsticks, stuffing them in his pants. He left Enid and Mikey alone to help unload band equipment.
They were staring at each other and communicating without having to speak. Even though Ron never exposed that side of him, they could identify it. With those specific 'Ron' looks he gave.
