The night was chilly, with a mild humidity laced into the air. The world around him covered in a seeming fog, though he knew it was just his heavy soul making the world seem so. He needed a drink, and a stiff one at that.
He walked the wet streets slowly, taking in the surreal darkness he now found himself in. The obnoxious neon lights, the glittering puddles of rain beneath, and the mumbling brainless people moving in between them.
He walked into the first bar he could find, not giving a damn about the dirty looks or soulless eyes he was greeted by. He made his way to the bar; lowered eye lids showing he was almost as dead as the rest of them.
Just a few drinks, and he’d join them happily.
The bartender acknowledged him, but only long enough to gruff out a “sure” when he asked for some Southern Comfort. He threw it back quickly, relishing in the way it burned his throat and empty belly.
He threw up a small signal, getting another in return. And he downed that one too.
Five drinks in and the world seemed a little less fucked. Or maybe he just gave less of one; either was fine, but then the music started.
That slow deep strumming you only ever seemed to hear in seedy bars. The kind of strumming that went along with lost souls and jaded lovers. You know the kind; the kind that remind your heart what it was like to be shattered.
Yeeeaah, that’s what he was hearing, and God it made his whole existence quake. Wether it was because he’d heard it when buddies of his had gotten broken, or in his dreams because he’d never known it personally, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. All he knew was it gave the heat he was feeling a whole new meaning.
He drunkenly looked over his shoulder, only to see the source of the music swaying slowly in front of the pool table.
Her ashen blonde hair braided loosely down her back, and her pale skin glowing beneath the bars cool lights.
He stared for a while; his head moved from side to side from the drink, but he sure as fuck stared. And she knew.
You don’t stare at a woman like that and not get her attention. God in heaven, he wished he had done it sooner because her head slowly turned to face him. At first she looked surprised to see him staring; then the corners of her lips quirked up, and her eyes glittered with something he couldn’t place.
His hands suddenly ached and his mouth grew dry, but nothing bothered him more than the very obvious lack of her that he now felt. So he got up, and stupidly made his way to her side.
He didn’t care about the other men around her, nor about the one that seemingly had all of her attention. No, he didn’t care a single bit. All he heard was the strumming, and he wanted to know what it was like to feel it too.
He took her by the waist, pulled her close, and kissed her the only way he knew how; hungrily, and painfully.
It was like the whole world died right there on her lips, because he couldn’t sense anything but her. Nothing but her, and the music she came with.
God how he moaned when he felt her kiss him back; when he felt her soft hands reach up and bury themselves in his hair. She tasted of honey and smelt like roses, but her touch was sin and her love was thorns. But sailors were hardy men, and could wether any storm.
He vowed right there, sealing it on her lips, that he’d weather this one. So long as the music kept on. So long as the rose in her soul bloomed for him. He would weather it all. For her, and her music.
Inspired by Love Is A Bitch by Two Feet and my current lover