brief encounter tugs at my heart strings
I met Sebastian on a Tuesday night in April. I stood there, alone, my shoes sticking to the beer stained floor and a flower in my hair. He walked up to me, after locking eyes behind the bar and asked me if I was shy. He was awkward and subtle, yet sweet and suave, radiating heroin chic. I said "yes, and you?" He nodded and told me "sometimes". An ironic introduction for someone hiding behind tattoos and flowing dark hair.
The way he moved, spoke, intrigued me. Five seconds and a simple conversation and I knew. I knew by the breaths, the short yet full words, the stares and the sad eyes. The hand swiftly pressed into the small of my back then consciously pulled away, the protective glances all evening from across the bar. Sebastian made me tilt my head and blink, the way a dog stares wantingly out of a window. I left that night with a curious heart.
He held my hand as we walked past the cracks in our familiar sidewalks. The morning was damp and grey as I opened my eyes to a comfortable stranger, a peaceful danger. We slept backwards and upside-down in his bed that night, our evening hazy and make-believe. How could this happen? What about him? My head hurts and my mind panics, but my soul is content. No one in this world knows where I am, no one can trace my path on a map with their finger. We are a mystery in that moment. To ourselves, to curious eyes, and even more to each other. I have no serious regret, no urgent guilt. Repercussions seem far off and distant as this boy named Sebastian reaches over and pulls the hair away from my eyes to say hello with a crooked smile.
The next day is always painful. This encounter has left me still, calm and turned completely inwards. It was as if I had imploded, spending hours in bed playing it over, playing the last year over. Passing through the motions of what has become my life, existing off of coffee, cigarettes and lies. This one simply left me wanting more. More destruction, more fog, more deciphering the sullen portals that were his eyes. More dark and innocent whispers, more nervous and soothing touch, more outlawed attention.