You Look Your Best When You Walk Away
Chapter I: Rainbow Posters Cause For Me To Look At You That Way.
Do you remember that one song?? The one I helped you learn that summer about three years ago?? The one about the person who's love is on "the other side, slowly laughing??" Yeah, that one...
For some reason, everything was at its most funny that night. I remember I laughed more that night than any other night in my life. It could've been that I was with Chris, or it could've been that I was at my happiest. Who knows?? God, maybe. Maybe not.
He laughed along with me, though, his dark grey eyes shining in the blacklight. My posters around us glowed brightly, a rainbow of neon colors. Oh, how ironic it was. See, I had already come to a very important conclusion in my life. Beware, everyone, for the announcement...
I was gay.
Of course, Chris didn't know this. For all I had in mind, he would never know. I wasn't about to come out to my family, so what me think that I was going to come out to my best friend?? My fear was that he was going to reject me, I mean, come on, who wants to be best friends with a queer?? I could already tell that Chris wasn't that kind of guy.
All though, tough luck for me, I was already sure that I was in love with him.
"You know, I always have the most fun when I'm with you, Riley." He said, brushing my dark chocolate brown hair away from my eyes. All though, as luck would have it, I got the gravity-defying hair that automatically bounces back into place. I just smiled back down to him, though.
"That's because I know how to have more fun than those stuck up prize bitches you hang out with, Mister." I laughed, pushing him off of my bed. He fell to the floor laughing and stood up laughing. His towering six-foot-two frame hovered over me, placing a transparent veil over my thin, sprawled out body.
Chris kneeled beside the bed, his elbows holding him up on the springy mattress. My head turned to where I looked upside down at him, smiling ridiculously.
"Remember what you called those quote-unquote 'prize bitches', one day, they'll kick your ass... And I'll laugh."
It was a rainy day. The sky was an absolutely stunning shade of grey as we walked under it. Rain pelted the top of Chris' dark black umbrella, a strange, repetitive sound. He saw me looking up curiously, my hazel-brown eyes alight with fascination.
"Do you always get this way when it rains??" He asked playfully, all though he didn't have to ask. Always, he knew the answer. I swear, the kid knew more about me than I did!! It was almost like he stalked me... Okay, so I told him almost everything about me. I was, and am, an open book.
But it always seemed that Chris wasn't satisfied, he always needed more than what was there. And, I, being the cute little puppy lap dog, always gave it to him. Anything he asked, I answered. If he wanted to know why the grass was green or why the sky was blue, I came up with an answer. So what if most of the time the answer was complete bullshit?? He bought it because it came from my mouth. That was why we were friends. We trusted each other more than anybody else in the world. He had an older brother, but who did he come to to ask about sex or drugs??
Yeah, that's right, me.
I think that was why I fell in love with him. We had this absolutely great relationship, and I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world.
Except maybe a night with him... in my bed... naked. But, we won't talk about that.
My mind had to refocus as I looked at him like he just asked me if I wanted to fuck right then and there on the sidewalk. But, then, I saw the mini-headphones in his pale sand hands, offered to me like a roasted duck on a platter. Oh, heh, he wanted me to listen to his iPod with him.
"Sure." I answered plainly. I took the headphones and hooked one in my left ear. He hooked the other one in his right ear and turned up the volume. My lips formed a smile when I heard the song he meant for me to listen to. "Protège moi" by Placebo. Y'know, the one with French verses and English choruses??
I know this song by heart. I started to sing it quietly, not wanting to disturb his listening to the song (wow, okay, I can't even speak English). Chris just smiled to me and told me to sing louder.
"C'est le malaise du moment
L'épidémie qui s'étend
La fête est finie on descend
Les pensées qui glacent la raison
Paupiéres baissees, visage gris
Surgissent les fantomes de notre lit
On ouvre le loquet de la grille
Du taudit qu'on appelle maison
Protect me from what I want
Protect me from what I want
Protect me from what I want
Protège moi, protège moi..."
"Has anyone ever told you that you sing like a god??" Chris asked me, smiling his wonderfully crooked smile at me.
"I only hear it everyday from you, sweetheart!!" I giggled (hmm, and one wonders about my sexuality), throwing an arm carelessly around his thinner, higher shoulders. It wasn't unnatural for us to show affection towards each other in a simple, yet held-longer-than-needed hug, or a friendly wink or something, but there was always something that pleasantly unnerved me about the way he'd send messages with his lovely optics.
"Shall we call and invite the ever-lovely friends of ours to enjoy this fabulous day with us?? Or shall it be the two of us again??" He asked, a ghost of a grin on his thin, defined lips. On more than one occassion, I've found my eyes attracted to those lips. And, I've always wondered how they would taste if I were to capture them. Would they taste like Heaven?? Would they taste delectably like Christopher William Osborn??
Maybe I should try the taste of Christopher William sometime.
"I think we shall invite some of our fab friends." I joked as he pulled out his mobile. In a flash, text messages flew from his long, guitar-picking-worthy fingers to Drucilla (all though, on second though, don't call her that... she'll kill you), Hazel, Jagger, and Leigh.
"They'll meet us at Papi's Pizzaria in about ten minutes." Chris said, smiling his lop-sided grin at me.
To fill you in, Papi's Pizzaria is the supposed "happenin'" place around here, in rainy Seattle. You can eat, hear bands on the old-timey jukebox, chat with friends, and, on occassion, live, local bands will play. One night, Chris, Dru (as I said before, don't call her Drucilla), Hazel and I played some covers we'd been working on. The crowd was really nice to us, so we played some more... just some random songs we'd thrown together that Chris and (mostly) I wrote a long time ago.
"So, what'll we do 'till then, m'love??" I asked dramatically, falling almost completely backwards and into his arms. "I think I shall die if I don't talk to someone other than your sorry ass in less than five minutes' time."
Chris caught me easily and locked eyes with me in the most fuckable of ways. The tension between our gazes was tangible... well, easily touchable.
Of course, my fucking luck, "Every You, Every Me" by Placebo started playing... And one of the first lines involves the words "pucker" and "up". My breath hitched in my throat as my brain screamed at me to kiss those adoring lips. But, I didn't. I couldn't. I wouldn't. No, I just put my hand on his emothin chest and pushed myself up. I smirked sadly to him from my place outside of the safety of the umbrella.
Outside of the temptation of those lips.