Unknown

Something random, trying this out.

I met him in a record shop, he came in for something to listen too and I was working my shift. He struck me in such a way that I could never forget the way it felt to see him for the first time. His eyes were on me, through me, undressing me gently and slowly. They are eyes like none before, dark and stormy, muddy brown eyes that no one else in the world could ever have. I did not even know his name when he asked me for a key to the bathroom, or when he took my hand and guided me to follow him there. I did not even know his name after we had finished messing around in the dirty little bathroom, it was not until the next day when he called me in the morning, asking for a ride that he finally told me, in my messages, his name. I got in my car, half awake and followed his voice in my head until I was parked outside a motel. It did not occur to me that this was strange, not even when I saw him, bathed in neon pink light from the motel sign, smoking a cigarette and dancing to music only he seemed to hear. He got into the passenger seat and told me just to drive, no destination, no reason. We were like that for a long time, he would call and I would come, drive around the empty city until daylight.

It'd be early enough in the morning to still look like night when we'd drive. He'd lift his feet onto the dashboard, a cigarette resting between his red lips, with a head of soft curls and wild thoughts. When we first started to drive he'd talk about the world and music and sex and I'd listen, wondering where he could have come from. He talked like the world would stop if he did. He had the mouth of a preacher and the charisma of a cult leader. He was cool, and therefore I was the congregation, the follower. Smoke would fill his lungs until cigarettes were no longer good enough. He'd direct me to the nearest liquor store and disappear around back, making deals for drugs, mostly cocaine and marijuana. He'd take a sniff and roll a spliff, breathing in the smoke like it were air. After a moment of nothing, I would start to drive again and he would cry as the drugs began to eat his beautiful mind. 

"What if I really do die someday? What will the world be like then? I've never believed in any God, so what will the point have been of my entire life?" 

I'd just drive, never interrupt him or answer him. He'd likely forget anything I would say by the afternoon anyway, certainly by night. I sometimes wondered if he remembered we used to drive at all. I was like his mistress in the night, someone he used on the side and forgot about by full morning. The day light would begin to creep up on us and he would be nodding off to sleep, his fragile head leaning right to left. He whispered when he slept, mostly nonsensical meaningless little words or whimpers with the occasional "love you". I'd slowly bring us back to the motel and caress his bony cheeks until he'd wake. He'd wrap and arm around my shoulders and kiss me as I'd help him out of my car and to the door. 

"Won't you ever stay?" He'd sometimes ask if he were coherent enough to speak. I'd often ignore this too, depending on how fucked up he was. If he were there at least a little, I'd tell him about work I did not really need to wake up early for or people I did not really have to meet. He never needed to know I was lying and I never felt right about staying, not with him like that. Most mornings, I would make sure he was in bed and take his shoes off, shut the door behind me and drive off. It was impossible to sleep much on days we'd drive but I never did mind. The longer we carried this on, the more often I would arrive early, speed my way to his motel and we'd spend an hour or two ripping each others clothes off and rolling around his room a bit before our drive. He was good, soft and gentle and animalistic if he wanted to be, even when he was high. 

One night, he stuck to simply cigarettes and kept his enigmatic brain as still and clear as he could. We drove around like normal, just without the drug stop. When we had gone back to the motel he asked me if I would ever stay and I decided to steal him a bit longer, especially in that state of mind and spent the day asleep next to him on the s****y little motel bed we shared so often. When I awoke he was strumming along to a tune he'd written on a cheap guitar. He smiled at me and I smiled back, aware that something had shifted by my prolonged presence in the room. We did not know each other outside of motel rooms and early morning drives and that had always been alright. It was everything that we had needed. He looked at me a moment longer and I felt it in my chest before I spoke it, I needed to say it, it needed to be said with meaning from my lips and in that exact moment, "I love you".