On your knees // Bandom

60. Secret Door

Dallon walked up to Lindseys house slowly. He turned his music down, his heartbeat changing to match the faster beat jumping out of open windows.

He had taken the bus there, and walked the next two blocks under the faded sky, mentally preparing for the hubris that night would bring. He had no idea of the true consequences, of course, but he knew what he wanted.

He walked into the house, his head beginning to spin in the haze of music and people and drink. Brendon appeared out of it, his face opening with recognition.

"Dallon! Thank fuck you're here."
"What? You're drunk and Ryans at his moms and you need... something?"
"No, dude, the opposite. I lost a bet and have to stay sober for forty minutes so I can drive and go get pizza."
"No takeout?"
"No good ones, according to Lindsey. Damn."
"It's cool. I'll keep you company."
"Yeah? Cool. You think Ryan would mind if I go play seven minutes in heaven?"
"Do you want to?"
"Of co-" He pulled a face. "No, not really, actually. Only him. What has he done to me?"
"He's ruined you, Bren."
"Jealous?"
And he was, desperately "Thats why you're dating him, right? To make me jealous."
"Obviously, no homo though."
"I wouldn't dare."

Brendon laughed, loud and full and Dallon was a junkie, and this was another hit, sending him higher, happier, more reckless.

The room was dancing around them, shifting eyes and short dresses and people hyped up on various things, but Brendon was laughing right in the middle, and Dallon watched it all, almost detached, almost happy.

The bottle had spun, bar Brendon, dizzily round and round, matching weakness's to names.

Jimmy held his breath, hoping that while Ray was technically in the closet, he'd still come in Lindseys closet with him.

Round, around, around. Lindseys eyes following it, trying to figure out who she wanted it to land on — she still hadn't decided who Jimmy was to be set up with. It had to be someone, though; the way he pined for Ray was ridiculous.

Ray told himself that if it was anyone else, he wasn't allowed to feel jealous, because it was his fault. He wasn't allowed to picture them pushed together, Jimmys mischief-making smile. The air turning pink and red.

And fate was feeling generous that day. Someone deeply in love had died and been reclaimed by her, she she granted wishes with ease. Ray grinned at his boyfriend.

Lindsey groaned aloud, "You don't have to..."
"Yeah," Ray insisted, "I don't mind."
Jimmy shrugged. "Its the rules of the game."
"Fine." Lindsey decreed it like some sort of ruler (admittedly she'd look amazing in a crown)

They shut the door on them, but Ray could feel them on the other side, the performance pressure pushing against them.

"Lets fake make out." Jimmy said, and then, too quickly for any protests, his lips were on him, and Ray could feel each of his fingertips along his spine. His head spun with the taste of alcohol transferring from mouth to mouth.

He pushed a spike of Jimmys hair flat, and for a moment his attention fell to the muffled 'hey!' against his lips, but then it was gone, all the pressure and noise was seeping between Jimmys fingers.

He remembered his 'best kiss', or at least the answer he gave when people asked him for it. He had been deliriously happy in that moment, and it was a giddy, excited kiss covered in young flowers. He had thought that was the pinnacle. But there, then, in the darkish closet, Jimmy was tugging on something deep inside him, and the flowers were spiked roses, drawing blood.

He thought about Jimmy telling him he loved him, and wondered if it felt a bit like this. That pull towards him, like gravity, until he was stuck in orbit and he didn't care if he got stuck or not. That was dangerous, but good dangerous — rose thorn dangerous.