Downfall Of Amplification -Phan-

fogged green

It was hard to allow myself to be excited about something. But the thought of going to see some young band perform mediocre songs in a nearly empty bar made me giddy.  It reminded me of when I was younger and would sneak out to go watch some garage band cover rock songs.  Phil had seemed over the moon about it as well.  He called me, asked if all the plans were the same.  Yes, I told him.  I would pick him up at nine, and we'd go to the bar.  Really, I don't know why he was so nervous.  Over the phone he was talking so fast, his words melting together.  He thanked me for coming, and I thanked him for inviting me, said it was going to be nice to do something different. 

'Of course, it's no fun to be cooped up in an office all the time.'  Phil smiled over the phone.  I could tell he smiled.  I didn't need to see him to know his mouth curled up at the sides. 

I grunted as an agreement and hung up.  My apartment is big and lonely.  A piano is placed in the center of the room, pages upon pages of sheet music spilled around it like water.  A guitar is tossed on top, recklessly.  I can see the city of London from my bedroom windows.  At night it glistens with life.  Rain pounds at the glass making my vision blurry.  Car lights fade into the road and windows are pools of light. 

Slipping on my shoes, I walk out of my room and look over the music.  Every lyric and note written, I despise.  Nothing seems easy anymore.  But I rip my eyes away because tonight I'm not going to think that.  Tonight I'm going to have fun. 

The stairs of my apartment building echo loudly inside the walls.  I hear a couple arguing on the floor higher than me.  The building is only seven stories, so it doesn't take long to reach the garage.  

Hopping into my car, I start my trip through the busy streets of London.  Usually, I just take a cab or walk, but I wanted to make sure I didn't have to deal with the rain.  The address Phil told me is written in my messy handwriting on a post-it note.  I stick it on the dashboard and pay attention to the heavy splatters of rain and the soft music.  

Phil is waiting on his steps when I arrive.  He's hugging his shoulders tightly and smiles when he sees me pull up.  I had to drive towards the outskirts of London where it's less dense and homier.  

He opens the passenger seat and stumbles in.  Shutting the door he looks down at his pockets, digging for something.  He pulls out a bit of cash and hands it to me. 

"What's this?"  I pull my eyebrows up in confusion. 

"Gas money."  Phil's voice is raspy from underuse; it sounds nice.  His hair is damp, a few water droplets collected on the top.

I chuckle under my breath and push his hand away, "I do not need more money.  Keep it."

"Are you sure?" Phil's eyes look worried as if he's taking advantage of me.  Dumb boy, I have plenty of money for the both of us. 

"I'm positive.  You said that the bar isn't far from here?" I watch as Phil pockets the money, his pale skin bright against his dark coat.  His fingers brush his legs as he places them on his knees. Taking my eyes away from his thighs I look back up at his face.  His hair is different, "Did you cut your hair?"  It is shorter on the sides, the front part untouched so that it hangs over his eyes. 

"Yeah I did."  He brushes his hand through his hair and smiles.  

"Hmmph, looks nice on you."  I nod, "I think I need a haircut."  I can suddenly feel the ends of my hair brushing against my neck, "Anyway, the bar?"

"It's a few blocks down." Phil looks forward, and I mimic him.

The rain seems harder now, my windshield wipers cutting through my vision every few seconds, "Do you like your place?"