Positive Affinity Warfare
The pill dissolved away on his tongue. The chalky orange taste sent shivers down his spine. Time fell away as the homely living room, bulging with people and chatter, slipped into a glossy light. The intoxication fulfilled him, his nerves settling into the gentle strum of his heartbeat as the sensation kicked in. The table lamps cascaded golden waterfalls of light across the worn couches. Warmth pressed against his eyelids - but still did nothing for his worries. Despite the heavy drunken laughter and cries of the party-goers around him, he elapsed into a world all his own. Distortions began to appear at the fringes of his vision - in the looms of his fragmented mind, his surroundings seemed to drop all extraneous emotion. Spots and lines replaced the boisterous crowd. Chirps and hisses blotted out the sounds of the house party around him. He could smell sex upon the air, pungent and oppressive. Another scent layered the first - a rosy perfume. She lay beside him, though he couldn't see her. He wouldn't look. He didn't want to. Another image, not an individual but a stance - a tall posture, strong shoulders rolled back - took her place. He smiled.
He braced himself against them, breathing heavily and spitefully. The man, thin and wispy as a cloud, and almost as transparent, gazed fixedly out the window. His jaws were set as he examined the moon, his gaze mournful. The woman's hawk-like yellow eyes bulged, her mouth slack. Suddenly, she began to shout and storm, and the incomprehensible noise slowly dropped in tone. Her barking was ferocious and interminable, but somehow adorable. Harley was ok with it all. It was the natural reaction of fear of loss and confusion, and was only a fraction of his inner turmoil. Her voice rose into a whine. Subconsciously he recoiled from it, shielding himself from her piercing dive.
"Harley?" A voice said, low in tone with the drawl of youth.
"What," he responded instinctively as the mirage of his parents were whisked away. The room still dissolved and swirled in glowing red and blue petals, but he sensed a presence nearby. The voice responded but was indecipherable. "What?" Harley asked.
"...are you leaving?"
"No, I asked when dude."
Harley's head rolled back onto the couch, his gaze snapping up to the white, barren ceiling. He wanted to answer, but couldn't recall the question. Oh well, he thought with a shrug. Stars buzzed above. They glimmered and expanded. He couldn't tear his eyes from them. From the bowels of his loosened mind, splattered the shaky image from a projector. The drawling voice disappeared. A wolf wandered the white, snow-capped forest alone. Harley the wolf. He followed his nose, never before having seen the terrain before he moved cautiously. There was some scent on the air. The light from the moon pierced the trees, but the wolf recoiled from its knowing presence. Following the dipping shadowed lines through the forest, he came to a clearing where, in the center, lay a bundle of clothes. The smell of rotting meat seared his nostrils, but in the air was another smell, and he sniffed again. He knew that smell. That perfume. He cowered from the moon, but as it was the only way to her, he crept out into the open. The wolf winced as the radiant light illuminated his form, clearly defining the highlights and patterns of his coat. He reached her body within moments. Her face was turned up, cold and lifeless. Her blood, from no wound he could see, had bled a halo around her head.
Her eyes flared open. The wolf gasped. Harley gasped.
"Damian, is he okay?" The girl was right overhead, but not looking at him.
"He fell asleep on me last time." Answered Damian. "Hey, Harley! Wake up bud, its your girl!"
Harley blinked blearily up at her. She smiled - was he gawking? He was half expecting to see blood pour from her eyes. Oh God, his cheeks grew hot as he remembered the luminous touch of moon. Had she seen him like that? Had she noticed the markings that proved their their entire relationship a fabrication? What are you thinking Harley - of course she didn't see that. It never happened! It's all in your mind!
"Harley? What's wrong baby?" Her tone was one of adoration and care, of ease and humor. It was anything but tense. The blotch of darkness above disappeared. She sat on his lap as her arm hooked his face into her breasts. "Harley? What did you do?" She cooed to him.
"What? What are you saying?" She asked, her eyebrows cocking as she recognized that he had only just honed in on what she was saying. "Did you take something?"
"I didn't." She shook her head, but his eyesight was gone.
"Honey has to go now. I'll see you in the morning," the weight lifted from his lap. Her voice was lower and more distant when she next spoke. "Look after him, okay? I need to get going..." Who did she say that to? It didn't matter. Behind his eyelids, a figure began to dance.
Beautiful movements to a rhythm all its own. He saw before him absolute perfection: the best components of man and woman melded together, serving life's most basic purpose. He moved to it, his fingers reaching through the barrier of the illusion. The warm touch of skin, moist from movement, shook away his mind's barriers as if they nothing more than a thin glaze shielding his true desires. To just be, to glide and feel and exist without the cold shocks of reality, held the moment in utter equilibrium. Pleasure radiated first from the body and secondly from the mind. Here, he was fulfilled. Harley remembered himself. H felt the spark of his mind smolder into life, shredding through the illusions that conspired to overthrow his mind yet again. For a moment he could think and he tried to capture it - this was to be alive. Morals and values were now held to a personal expectation instead of a cultural one. He had recognized his barriers, and while they wouldn't disappear, even with the help from the pill, he knew now that they could now be overcome. Confusion, fear, and doubt he had dealt with in himself - but that was the easiest part. How would those he cared about react? He couldn't admit his true being without hurting them, but nor could he shield them from the truth forever.
The noise was what brought his mind back into his body. It was a sigh - a rasping, deep sigh which shuddered violently in his ear. The world drew into focus briefly, losing the idealized perspective of the moment. He found himself digging one hand into the carpet with the other hand gripping the ecstatic leg pressing against his chest. The pleasure and passion and pain and absurdity of the moment hit him just as the rhythm came to a halt. Harley was breathing heavily. The hands gripping his hips were loosening now. The world flashed brilliantly stark for a moment, but soon began to deteriorate under the influence of the pill. He struggled to maintain consciousness, to understand the moment. Before his vision dimmed he caught his image in the mirror in front of him. His eyes were wide, with thick purple bags beneath them - but he hardly noticed the sagging skin. There was another figure. It crouched over him, completely naked. Their heads touched, though Harley couldn't see his face. It was certainly male. Shaggy black hair intertwined with Harley's blonde. The man kissed his neck one last time, and rolled free - the moment finished. Harley, unable to balance even on all fours, collapsed onto his side, his eyes catching a full profile of the man lying across from him before darkness consumed him. Him. The person was a him. The word was all that he held onto in his downward spiral.
Harley smiled freely.