Downfall Of Amplification -Phan-

"I'm a flower, you're my bee"

His hand grazes my face, his soft lips on my chest and thighs and neck.

A soft gasp fills the white room, the covers torn off, thrown away into the corner.

Heat, my chest fills with it as he touches me in a way I couldn't dream of.

I bite his shoulder, and he flinches slightly.

Around us is a haze of golden love.

///

He's covered in sun; the window propped open.  The silhouette of his frame twists as he extends his neck, letting smoke fall from his mouth.  He's naked, his body exposed and open and all for me.  A guitar is laid out on the sheets; it's covered in stickers and permanent marker.  He draws out life in a single exhale of breath.  

The smoke curls and dances in the air, he looks at me and smiles.

It's not just a smile; it's a song, it's a lifetime trapped in his gums.  I reach out and brush his neck, the warmth of his life spreading to my hands.  His eyes are clouded with the high but still bright.  Like the sun still shining behind clouds.  My lungs are blackening as I suck on a cigarette, but the smoke only fills me with happiness and memories.

His hair is unstyled, like usual, all tangled down around his forehead.  He doesn't bother doing anything with it, letting the curls frame his soft face.  His cheeks are flushed bright red, and I can count how many freckles dot his nose.  My hand traces his collar bone, and I can't help but feel like I'm touching a masterpiece.  Some kind of painting that has been closed to the public for so long.  No hands have touched the canvas in many years besides mine.  It's just him and I in a museum, and I'm a mere guest.  I wipe off the dust on his shoulders and remind him what a heartbeat feels like, one that isn't his own. 

Outside the world is slowly growing colder, the winter months approaching faster than anyone anticipated.  Our official album is dropping February and tour starts March.  Mike has been organizing dates for us.  I try to imagine Dan and me on stage performing together.  He's so talented and effortless I feel like I'll be lacking the skill. 

"What are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?"  He mumbles as the cigarette rolls between his lips.  He grabs my hand, looking down at it brushing his fingertips against my knuckles. 

His hands are coarse from playing instruments, the strings bruising his fingertips, "What's touring like?"

He smiles and leans back, a chuckle escaping his throat, "It really does force you to grow as a person."

"In what way?"  I ask, and he looks back up at me.  The light catches his eyes and they brighten up, soaking through the dark brown emerges amber and bronze.

He purses his lips, "I don't know how to describe it.  You really pick apart yourself, stripping down yourself bare.  Playing all those shows and writing all that music and doing all those things force you to become raw.  And at the end, you reflect and realize you've grown centuries older."   He smiles, "For me, my first tour was about taking any drug I could and fucking anything that moved. I'm glad that is over." 

A part of me is hurt by Dan's comment, but I remember that he was known to be a sex crazed teen.  That was just who he was.  Everyone knows it, but there's still a part of me that feels protective.  That is my Dan they were having sex with.  The beautiful canvas stained with unwashed hands, they weren't gentle.  They poked holes in him that are still visible today.  My throat closes, and I try to rid my brain of the thoughts, "I'm glad too, you're all mine now."  

I place my cigarette in the ashtray placed between us and sit on his thighs.  He parts his lips gently, his cigarette between them.  He's warm, his ribs are rough, and I rub my hands across them feeling the divots of his anatomy.  His shoulders are rolled back so that his collarbones stick out.  I grab his cigarette out of his mouth and put it in the ashtray next to mine.  His eyes follow my hand slowly.  Dan's neck is stretched out in a way that sends me crazy.