Tutor Writing Challenge! [April]

(2 things I rarely do: write in 2nd person and write homosexual chars, help!!)

corvan harper.

The tradition of forbidden love starts like any Thursday night. Slicked back, dyed black hair and faded, ripped jeans hanging from gangly limbs. Cloth bracelets wrapped around your right wrist. Running through darkness, night vision on. Where you’re headed, you’ll need it.

The rich kids arrive in their Mustangs, carving donuts into the gravel, threatening to knock over the Harleys lined up like dominoes. Shrieks fill the air, shrill and high-pitched and girlish in nature, no doubt meant to be flirtatious. Over it all, you hear the buzz of a bassist’s reverb coming from inside a run-down shack. A neon sign blinks lazily in front of it, directly to your right. You’re here, but you’re far, far away.

Three months ago so distant, and you never thought this would become the scene of your teenage dreams.

You should have left a note for Elijah.

Can’t. Too risky.

You tell him everything, but even some secrets shouldn’t test the trust of a brotherhood. Truth serum like cough syrup – sickly sweet, and you want to gag. You long to wash it down.

“What can I get you, pretty boy?”

“Just a Coke.”

She squeezes you on the shoulder and gives you a wink as she disappears inside, and whilst you have no intentions of joining her, you can hear the band inside beginning to stir.

So you follow.

You’re immediately hit with the smells of fresh sweat and spilled drinks. Discordant notes echo in your head, rattling your bones as the tempo begins to lift. The colours of a psychedelic rainbow dance along the walls, pinks and greens and reds. There’s a heavy thrumming beneath your skin and you’re searching for eyes, dark blue and stormy and enough to make you almost believe you belong to the night.

The room is crowded as always, bodies pressed up against each other. The band is poised and ready to entertain, a rock and roll beat starting to set the tone of the night. The influence of disco from the previous decade has well and truly been eradicated, bringing with it the rise of a new era. So much has changed in just a few short years, and yet one thing remains the same throughout it all: your lack of bravado. Your introverted tendencies want to lead you away from the crowds, already dizzying and reckless. But above it all is a lure, pulling you forwards against your will. You push them down. Look up at your secret lover.

Front and centre, a man clutches a microphone with rough hands. Despite his thin frame, traces of muscles peek out from a white T-shirt, already stained with sweat. He’d given you his leather jacket last night, asked you to wear it for him tonight. “Won’t need it up there.” The lights make the stage too hot, or so he says. On top of the world for everyone to see. Power you couldn’t begin to imagine, but to him, the stage is home. He's never been so free. And when he moves, you move with him. You imagine how it feels to hold him close, how it would be to blend into the crowd with him. Just two boys under the spell of late night love and live music.

But some things aren’t meant to be.

You’re reminded of the truth of the matter – that your dreams can only ever be a fantasy – when he sends a wink out into the crowd. Even if, deep down, it’s meant for you, the squealing girls around you will claim it for their own. That’s how it has to be. He plays his part so well – sexy and flirtatious and untouchable – and you can’t ignore the twinge of jealousy that shoots through your bones. Just for a second, but it’s there. You want his wink. You want him for yourself. You don’t want to share, but you have to.

It’s just an act. You know what’s at stake.

Maybe you should have asked for something stronger than just a Coke.

No, you resolve to pass on the liquor tonight. Let the music and the night be enough to envelope you as you dream of the day you can both be free to be yourselves.

.
.

Some decades later, the crowd begins to thin as someone kills the music. The band is already packing up their instruments, no doubt itching for a cold drink at the bar. You stay behind, nursing your drink from the corner of the room, watching the world blow by. A small group of giggling girls gossip about which member “is totally the hottest”, and no guesses for who they settle on. The jealousy bubbles up inside of you once again, only to be squashed by those piercing blue eyes that meet your gaze, rake over you slowly. A small smile at the side of his lips.

He slides past the girls easily, merely nodding at them – enough to make them swoon – before making a beeline for your corner. You shouldn’t feel nervous – “he’s crazy about you, you know?” – but your heart still lifts to skip a beat or two. You pull the hoodie of his leather jacket tight around your face to protect yourself from prying eyes. You can never be too sure, but tonight you’re thankful for the underage drinking shenanigans that ease your anxiety a little. Oh, to be young and drunk and have a clean slate memory by morning.

Before you know it, he’s stood in front of you. You can smell the cheap aftershave radiating off his chest; you breathe him in.

“You don’t know how good that jacket looks on you, do you?”

You’re blushing, uncontrollably, and how does he manage to turn you into one of those giggling girls with just a few words? You forget to speak, feel your brain short-circuiting as you look at him mutely.

He clasps your hand in his, squeezing tightly, once, twice, before letting it fall back to your side. Later, it whispers.

“Let’s get out of here.”

And who are you to argue? You follow him into the night, walking slowly side by side at first, before he’s gaining speed and he’s running, sprinting down deserted streets. A few right turns and you’d be back at Julia, where Elijah is sleeping, unaware of the fraud he shares a bedroom with. But right now, he could be miles away. The two of you run together, free, letting out shrieks and whoops of delight that travel through the night, loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood.

Maybe there’s shadows at your heels, ready to drag you down, but they can’t hurt you in this moment.

You don’t care. You’d follow him anywhere.