Downfall Of Amplification -Phan-

white haze

AN: !Mature scenes appear in this chapter.  Proceed with caution!

I have never felt cool before, but with him I did.  Whenever I was in his presence, he made me feel alive.  I don't know how to describe it.  The world collapses and folds away, tucked in a drawer away from us when we work in that studio.  What once was just his domain is now mine.  His house has basically been mine.  Sharing thoughts over coffee and lyrics over whiskey, memories mixed with cigarettes.  His spare bedroom covered in my clothes and instruments.  I told him I used to play his songs on my beat down the guitar.  He said that it was adorable and too flattering to his less than perfect older music.

Something happens when you write music with someone.  You share a bond that is unbreakable.  Like an invisible rope holds us together, I fall and he pulls.  I push, and he leans tugging and kneading.  Together we dance in a haze of our music. 

His sheets are soft; my hands slip between them easily.  Almost as easily as the cigarettes die in our mouths.  I stayed the night; we worked into the early morning revamping a song I wrote a long while ago.  He says he likes the way that I create a novel in three minutes.  I say I like the way he plays the piano. 

Dan comes back in the room holding a bag of fine green leaves.  He has a guitar hanging off his back.  He's only in his boxers, a loose t-shirt hanging over his shoulders.  He throws the bag at me, and I roll my eyes, "I swear you're more weed than person now."

"Helps me think."  He mutters pointing at his head, "the lyrics come more natural that way."

Laughing under my breath I roll out a few joints, handing him one.  It may not be healthy, but for me, the health doesn't matter.  When I'm with him, I feel better than I have my whole life.  If that means clouding my lungs with poison, I will.  He places one in his mouth, slinging his guitar over his chest so that he can sit comfortably. 

He strums it a bit and balances the joint between his teeth.  The lights are off, but that's okay.  The windows are a suitable source of light.  His white covers are spread out in an unruly mess.  The sunlight trickles in illuminating white dust speckles in the air.  Outside the window east of his bed, you can see a family of lilac bushes.  Their purple pedals getting swept up in the wind and carried far away. 

I pick up the lighter and flick it on.  Cupping my hand, I light my joint,   sucking in I feel a tight part of my shoulders relax.  Leaning forward I hold the lighter up to Dan's mouth.  He closes his eyes as a smile spreads across his face.  Taking his hands off the guitar, he pinches the middle of the rolled paper.  Leaning back to my original spot I close my eyes enjoying the warmth spreading over my chest.

Dan begins to play again, absentmindedly letting his fingers dance across the strings smoothly, "life is truly an adventure."  He mumbles through his teeth as to not let the cigarette fall. 

I nod in agreement, "I just want to journey it all."

"Life's too short to not."  Dan smiles, his pale skin lighting up like diamonds in the lazy sunlight, "and I got to say, Phil."  He looks down at his hands and plays a chord that strikes deep in my bones, "I'm happy to be spending this part with you."

"Oh yeah?"  I raise an eyebrow at him. 

"Mmmmhmmm."  Dan trails on with a sing-song voice, "when we go on tour, I can show you the world."

"I would like that very much."  I agree leaning forward so that our hushed voices could mean more.  So that I could hear the sound of his lips parting and the ring of his nails against the strings, "can you take me to America? I always wanted to see California."