👨🎤 Misfits, Jocks and Electric Skye (Part 2)
First Draft Created: 2024-06-03 18:45
Last Updated: 1 month, 3 weeks ago
With my dragging our Skye along like a yoyo against his social urges, he and I made it to the bar, finally catching up to the three jocks who had been falling over themselves to buy him - and reluctantly also me - a drink.
This wasn't the first time I'd seen something like this happen. Skye's magic just had that effect on people.
Perhaps it was his hair, his stature, his S-Tier friendliness, how he lit up a room... the fact that he looked like the frontman of a band...
Still, I had been single-minded in not losing our rugby-basketball-built fellows, eyes fixed firmly on the counter and determined not to leave our drinks from the moment they were poured until they were in our hands, something our not-far-off throng of artist and writer collective of friends, the Misfits, had frequently mercilessly teased me about as "the parent" of the group.
I hated feeling like the parent. Particularly as I was one of the group who had not become a parent. Yet it certainly felt like the truth. I was that kind of person - concerned for safety. Protective around all of them, especially around our Skye, as surely anyone should be.
We arrived to reach three jocks at a bar who, evidently, through their own subtle jock communication of nods, shrugs and head tilts as deferrals and ultimately who was tallest and nearest to the bar counter, had come to an arrangement that Shaved was buying the first round. The crush of people in a busy bar, and the fear of truly being caught without a drink, can undermine even the staunchest jock's best intentions of being the first drinks-buyer. All three had the kind of stature that parted crowds, but Shaved had gotten there first.
He must be the runner jock I thought. Or perhaps there *is a social benefit to such evil charisma.*
Five drink came, along with shots of something... blue... suspiciously the same shade of Skye's own hair and finished-on-the-way cocktail, with a lemon slice beside it. Skye placed his now-empty glass down on the counter, as I drained my beer bottle and did the same.
"ID for him," the bartender barked, spotting Skye.
"REALLY?" I cried, exasperated. Skye's twink-like appearance made him necessarily young-looking, and he got carded everywhere as a result. But here at our regular haunt? I was so sick of...
"JEFF!" Skye squealed, a look of delight on his face, and I saw the bartender wink at him. Dear God. Was NOBODY immune to Skye's unconscious magnetism? I noticed the bartender picked up one shot on the table to hand to Skye personally, and that before he did so, he reached from beneath the bar counter, retrieved something small and pink and carefully placed it in the shot glass.
It was a pink jellybean... and it was almost shaped like a heart. Skye giggled. I was starting to realise that there was nobody in this bar who did not know Skye, besides our new Jock-quaintances. I wondered what the private joke was between them. Pink hearts? Really? Skye's obliviousness to men's attention was getting ridiculous at this point.
Alluringly queer-coded as he was, he had the kind of social naiveté only a straight guy could possess. At some point, I was definitely going to have to give him The Talk about men and the vibes he put out. For his own safety.
It was getting to be a real problem, I felt. Two of Skye's former girlfriends, Kristen and Becky, had once joked among themselves that he was a classic uke - they were both fans of the Boys Love manga genre.
Skye, as an artist, aspiring writer and general appreciator of media, had been interested in hearing about the genre, sincerely interested in reading their manga, and yet their implications surrounding himself had totally gone over his head, or perhaps simply in one ear and straight out the other, distracted by the interesting topic of a fascinating new media genre to consume, and several related art styles the manga inspired him to practise. It was past time he had some sage advice from his gay best friend.
As we wove our way out from the throng at the bar counter for a quieter spot, despite my diffusion of tension that the main drinks and shot glasses were now in hands, I still found myself taking side-glances at our jock lads. I realised I was still weighing them up, as we prepared to take our shots. Weighing them up? Sizing them up? Neither option worked out well in my favour.
Drinks in our hands, we formed a circle. In remarkably-coordinated unison, three mountainous downed their three shots, outlined against the bright flashing lights.
Skye and I looked at each other, exchanged a tiny "cheers" of shots, and both started to sip. Skye always sipped drinks. It was another one of those things that made him so endearing of course, and his desire to savour everything he put into his mouth had unintentionally influenced me to do the same. Hence, both of us, like the remarkable nerds we were, one writer, one artist, sipped our shots, like mice at a water dropper, and I had to admit, I certainly felt caged, flanked by the fellows around us.
I was starting to wonder if perhaps it wasn't them and their presence that was bugging me. Perhaps it was just that I'd wanted some time to spend around our crew, not strangers, despite my accursed need to make sure everybody was ok and nobody felt left out. To spend some time catching up, celebrating this occasion. Celebrating with Skye...
Suddenly, the music changed. The shift was dramatic, moving from grungy rock to something clean. It was electronic, but poppy, but old... it was... The Blue song. At least, that's what I thought it was called. Eiffel 65, was it?
Skye's eyes danced.
"My SONG!" he cried. Of course. His deeply favourite colour, too, hence his dyed hair. He had always found the colour calming. Though his shade was more like a bolt of lightning on the eyes.
Skye was staring, almost misty-eyed, at the DJ, someone he could actually see over the crowd from his elevated box, and who even seemed to be glancing in our direction. The DJ's hand was raised. Surely not. Skye waved at him. Skye thought the DJ was waving at him?
It was as if a trigger had been activated in Skye with the onset of this song, or perhaps the DJ's apparent acknowledgement. His main drink in his left hand, Skye uncharacteristically downed the rest of his shot, slammed it down on the table with unusual force, and reached out his right hand towards mine.
Was he... did he just invite me to dance??
I almost spit out my drink, but followed suit immediately, not wanting to miss this opportunity.
Manifesting out of nowhere, Julia from The Misfits appeared, as if on cue.
"Hold my beer!" Skye chirped, and she took it without hesitation. It's not beer I thought. "You can have some if you want!" he added, as an afterthought. She laughed and glanced at me quickly. Her hand was out and I handed her my own drink. "Um.. same. Thanks." Drinks gone. Thank you Julia, storer and sipper of drinks, who knew my peculiarities around dancing, drinks and drink safety.
OK, so it would be real dancing then.
Fair.
Next moment, I was pulled onto the dance floor by the guy half my size and usually passive. OK... Role reversal from my earlier dragging.
Of course, the jocks who had been behind us had manifested and stationed themselves ahead of ourselves to exactly the place we were headed too. They were now dancing frantically in don't-care-just-noticed-you-hey-welcome fashion and just starting to widen their three-person circle as we arrived. They were good. Good at dancing, too. I guess having muscles to work helped. I sighed.
They had been behind us ... Had they... teleported?
Nope. Just the chaos, the dizzying effect of the lighting, music and throng of bodies in the club, and the mesmerising time-dilation effect of Skye's eyes that I had barely been able to look away from ever since we'd safely received our drinks, had rather bent space and time for me.
Opportunity to watch Skye dance. He was opposite me, and the flashing coloured lights made him, his skin, his eyes, hair outline in a magical halo. Also his teeth looked remarkably white, which must have been a strange UV effect and was disconcerting and reminded me of the Batman universe's Joker, but I tried not to let that weird reality creep into my fantasy glow.
The music cross-faded into... A slow song.
Oh well. Time to move off before it got awkwar...
Skye plopped both hands on my shoulders.
I almost froze, but my hands were automatically on his, resting on my own shoulders.
My response had been an automatic habit from the defensive maneouvres I'd learned in mixed martial arts, but now, resting on top of Skye's own hands, they simply stayed.
It was as if the movement and the contact was just natural. Comfortable.
"Skye?"
He smiled up at me.
Oh my god. Those eyes. *THOSE EYES were looking at me in ... that way. Wide. Open. With a look that was soft and almost... vulnerable. What?*
I could feel a certain feeling in my chest, rising, magnifying.
My arms had found my way down his arms, somehow, to wrap around his own back, resting naturally under his own extended arms.
Skye was still smiling. Still gazing up at me.
Then, his hands moved back, over my shoulders, crossing themselves around the back of my neck. He moved himself closer in, and leaned himself against me. Against my chest. The tops of his asymmetrical blue hair just reached to the height of my chin, brushing my stubble.
I swear if I had been a cartoon character there would have been a giant exclamation point above my head, plus the sound effect it came with. You know the one.
My heart was pounding. So loudly! What if he could hear my heart pounding against my chest?
And yet, the moment felt so close, so intimate, it was as if everyone else had melted away. As if a spotlight were shining right on us, and we were the only people... the only ... dance couple on the dance floor. I swallowed as my mind processed the word.
"Skye?"
He loosened his grip, leaned his upper body back a bit, almost hanging onto me as he looked up at me, with my arms still cradling his back lest he fell off-balance. He tilted his head back up to look at me.
Our eyes met again. Despite our height difference, and the foot or so now between our eyes, his face at chest height still felt so close.
"So..." He cleared his throat. Then stopped.
My heart started thumping painfully hard. I knew that whatever he was about to say was something I had waited for, wanted to hear more than the greatest speech.
"Mmmh?" I prodded, gently, one of my fingers also gently prodding his back.
I almost expected another squeal at being poked, or some playful response, but Skye was silent. Serious. Calm. Unlike himself.
"I'm glad," he said, finally, and his voice was deeper than usual.
"Glad?" I encouraged, but my heart betrayed me, thumping even harder than it had been so far. As he'd doubtless heard it thump, when he'd been leaning his ear against it.
"I'm glad... that I finally got to dance with you. I've wanted to for a really long time."
Skye seemed to be fighting himself, trying not to look away, as if I might reject what he was saying. As if anyone would. Did his eyes show... hope?
My mind was still reeling, still processing. No I think. He's sociable. He's just friendly. I'm... I must be making too much of things...
I could feel heat rising in my cheeks. Something on my face betrayed me, because in Skye's eyes now dawned recognition, the realisation that he was not the only one.
I felt his hands, still behind my neck, rearrange themselves. His right hand travelled up along my neck, to cradle the base of my skull, despite how far down he was.
"I..." I was still speechless. I couldn't believe ... was my dream actually coming true? My fingers on his back tightened their grip slightly, as if wanting to send a subtle signal. His fingers on my head and shoulder did the same. My left hand slowly released him, to reach back and rest on his right, against my head.
Finally, I found my voice. "I ... I thought you were straight? Just... cool."
"Me?"
We both burst out laughing.
Skye's right hand caressed the back of my neck, fingers playing in between my own fingers engulfing it, then it released me, slipped out from my grasp and trailed its way along my cheek and upwards along my eye. I shivered, reaching for it again. I brought his hand slowly down in front of my face, cradling it, and on an impulse, kissed it in a swift peck.
"I... I really like your hair," he said, still shy, the dancing of the lights playing up even more in his dancing eyes.
"I really like the pink streak." His hand fought mine, escaped again, and swiftly moved up again to flick the highlighted streak aside, where it had fallen in front of my eyes. It fell right back down again. "Gets in the way though," he added, mischievously, as he reached up again towards it and tucked it, this time, carefully behind my ear. I shivered. "Of wha..." I began
Skye's hand suddenly grasped my shoulder, and I realised his other hand was now clutching the back of my neck. Pulling himself up and me down he sprang up onto his toes.
In my non-comprehension, my arms automatically surrounded his small frame to support him in the way I was always ready to do, tightened to hold him steady, and siezing his chance Skye grabbed my collar, yanked it down and himself upward and kissed me.
The music volume suddenly went down significantly. Some kind of announcement was spoken in a theatrical voice by someone, presumably the DJ. Skye and I ignored it. We were busy.
Lights flickered, brighter than usual. A spotlight really was on us. Literally, this time.
Suddenly, from all around us, the dance floor broke into applause.
As we pulled dazedly back from each other, still tight in our embrace, my head felt dizzy from the rush and confused by the dramatic change in sensory input from all sides. Trying not to fall over, I ... we ... glanced around at the crowd, who were forming a circle around us.
Our friends, the Misfits, were nearest to the front whooping and hollering. Julia cheersed two empty glasses in her hands together. But even their cheering was drowned out by three large jocks, a head above everyone else, who were beaming broadly as they raised their beer glasses, roaring as if for their home team's win. The superseding advantage of sports fans' lungs, I supposed.
"Well I guess they..." I began.
Looking back at Skye, I noticed that he now wasn't paying attention to them or me, instead he was looking at the DJ, who was looking in our direction, his hand raised again in a wave.
"Skye..." I had to tell him the DJ wasn't...
The DJ saluted, and then pulled a rock and roll hand sign.
"Dave." Skye's voice murmured, affectionately.
I glanced back at Skye, whose gaze had already shifted to the bar counter.
Huh?
Following it, I saw that Barman Jeff was also looking at us. He flashed a thumbs up. Hard to tell from here in the dim light, but he seemed to also wink.
No way....
I glanced back at Skye, who winked back at him. Glanced back at the bartender.
Eyes still on Skye, Jeff made a sweeping motion to the crowd at the bar, clearing a space where we could clearly see the counter. Illuminated in a patch of light, I saw him slowly putting down two shot glasses and fill them with the familiar electric clear blue liquid.
I started laughing, but Jeff wasn't done. Carefully, he reached under the counter, grabbed something, and into each shot dropped in something pink and small. More pink jellybeans?
Skye giggled. I turned my away from Jeff and the bar, looking back at Skye, who was now watching my face. He stared up into my eyes with a goofy smile.
"What?"
He smirked mischievously again, and yet again flicked the hair streak that had fallen in front of my eyes, probably when we had pulled apart.
"I always agreed, pink was your colour."
Realization dawning, my hand moved to the same place his had just been, at the same streaked lock he had flicked back, holding it. The exact shade of pink of the jellybeans.
From the corner of my eye, I could see the DJ was making his way to the bar, having switched over to a preloaded playlist.
I watched him and the bartender cheersing the two identical blue shots with jellybeans, knocking them back, exchanging a high five and both looking back pointedly in our direction.
"Finally." Skye said to himself, as if agreeing with them.
The bartender poured out four more identical shots, and motioned for us to come join them.
This time, Skye was the one to take my hand and lead me towards the bar.
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