Melancholia

Just A Taste; Part 1

I went back to my house to try to calm down, but I wasn't getting anywhere. I lit another cigarette and put my The Orwells record on. Hallway Homicide started blasting and my nerves instantly calmed, despite the loud intro.

It was around 6 o'clock and the feeling of smoke filling up my lungs was amazing. Smoking was stimulating and relaxing at the same time. Its like taking a quick nap or a deep breath, refreshing in a way. It resets your mood too, makes a bad day seem to go by more quickly, more smoothly.

The record skipped, so I changed it to Deerhunter's Halcyon Digest album and it started playing Basement Scene. Even more relaxing. My cat Lola meowed whenever I played this song, but she was surprisingly quiet today. Her dark body curled up on my calves and we both enjoyed the music.

Dream

A little dream

All about the basement scene.

I don't want to wake up no

If you've seen

The light turn gold

Come out tonight

And we'll get stoned

I don't want to get old, no

Dream

A little dream

About your friends

And their endings

Now I wanna wake up

I wanna wake up now

It could be the death of me

Knowing that my friends

Will not remember me

I wanna get old

The tranquil sound reminded me of the calm air that surrounded Imogen. I got a flash of her nervous smile in my head and got right back to square one. Music helped, but it wasn't enough. I need to go. I need to go now. 

I quickly got out of my room, carefully placing Lola onto the floor, and grabbed my leather jacket. Heading to my car, only one thought ran through my mind; It's time to relapse.

***

Pulling up a few blocks away from a familiar pub, I began my quest to sate the beast inside of me. 

There was a line, not that long, but long enough to have me wait outside for about 20 minutes.

Pfft. Like I'm actually gonna wait in line. I have connections and it's times like these when they come in handy.

I spotted an equally familiar face standing at the door at the very beginning of the line and took of towards it, shoving my hands into my jeans pocket. It was kinda chilly and I'd have to remember to buy a scarf.

Nothing like a little blood flow to warm you up, though.

"Lucian, my man, what's up?" I said to the bouncer in front of the huge metal door. The people waiting on line groaned and protested when I easily skipped all of them and took my rightful place at the front of the semi-massive line.

"Cynric," his deep rough voice replied, "Haven't seen you in a while. I thought maybe you'd found somewhere else to get your fix." He grinned.

Lucian was a tall burly man with a shaved head. He had a tribal tattoo on one side of his scalp and his huge biceps warned you not to fuck with him. He knew about my addiction.

"Nah, you know there's nowhere better. Is Aurora here tonight?"

"Nope. Better luck next time, kid." Aurora rarely came during the fall, but I was hoping she'd come here just to see me. I guess I wasn't one of her top priorities even though she was definitely one of mine right now.

I nodded at him and he pulled the velvet rope back and let me inside, much to the people on the line's liking.

I guess first come is actually last served, I snickered.

The club was packed and there were people grinding on each other in a corner trying to be discreet. So early? They were failing, miserably.

One of the couples was completely worst than the rest and they were all pretty bad. The guy was basically dry-humping her and her left tit was out. Remind me why I was here again?

The lights were flashing, strobe lights, and it started to give me a slight migraine. This is probably some sort of new thing they're trying out, because they've never used them in the past.

What if I fucking had Epilepsy? Do these people have no consideration for their customers or whatever the fuck you call people who go to clubs?

Aside from knowing Lucian and Aurora, everyone here's identities was completely unknown to me and I'd like it to stay that way.

The strong smell of sweat and alcohol made me very cautious of the people around me. Sweaty drunks were not good company.

The stereos were blasting Fuck It by Dune Rats and it instantly made me think of Imogen. The way her green eyes sparkled in the sun..

God.. I came here to forget about her and I'm doing the exact opposite.

I realized thinking about her made my throat dry up and headed to the bar. I sat on one of the stools and the guy behind the bar came up to me and asked me what I'd like.

"A coke, please." I said to the bartender. I wasn't trying to get drunk. No, not tonight. Tonight I was on a mission. A mission to forget.

Turning around in my chair, I faced everyone on the dance floor. I was looking for a specific person. A person that would solve all of my problems, but they weren't here. I'd have to go somewhere else, somewhere where I knew they'd be.

The cemetery.

~~~