graham

the next day after my near death experience was... weird.
everyone in school, and i mean everyone, had been staring at me all day.
they'd give me this strange looks, some others would give me looks of concern and a few people would come up to me to ask me if i was alright.

some others just didn't give a fuck about it or they just didn't know what had happened.

and not only that, some others would look at me and whisper something in the ear of the person who was next to them.

the teachers had been more patient with me and they'd ask me if i was okay or if i needed something every five fucking minutes.

my god this school was full of hypocritical morons.

i just wanted to be treated like they always had, i didn't need empathy from other people to make me feel better.

i mean it was nice that some people were trying to make me feel better and giving me support but, what was the point of it after all that happened? what was the point of it if no one had stood up for me before all of that?

i had wished they had kicked out macquoid or at least suspended him and the rest of them, which they didn't.
however, they had been told they would stay in detention and collaborate with the maintenance after school.

bullshit. this school was total bullshit.
they should have just kicked them out already and never be able to come back again. it didn't matter if they were in their last year in this school.

i wanted this week to end already. i wanted everything to end already.

i couldn't stand the fact that i still had a year left.
i couldn't stand the fact that after senior year, damon would be in college and i wasn't going to see him anymore.

he was the only friend i had.

when we didn't see each other, the only way we could interact was by phone calls.

what if he finds someone out there much better than me? what if he decides i'm boring and decides he doesn't wanna be friends with me anymore?

just to think about it made me anxious and i hadn't noticed damon was arching an eyebrow at me.

'coxon? whatcha thinking?'
'oh, it's nothing. just thinking about stuff'
'mhm.'

he lit his cigarette and offered me one handing the pack, but then pulling it back.

'oh wait, sorry, i forget you think they're gross.'
'oh c'mon, don't be a piece of shit.' i whined as i extended my arm out to take a cig.
'addict.'
'i'm not you.'

~

we were at damon's place and i had brought my guitar again to give him some lessons.
he was always too excited about it.
he'd ask me questions like 'when are you teaching me guitar again?'

i think it was safe to say that damon's place was like my second home.

everyone in his family was so lovely to me and they treated me like -- an actual son, which my parents really didn't.

i tried not to be spitful or selfish about it. i didn't wanna live all my life hating on them and be an ungrateful son, because i know they have given anything for me and i always appreciated that.

this time i was teaching damon how to play "how soon is now?" by the smiths.

they had had a great impact on me and they were one of the few bands that had inspired me to start playing guitar.

my dad knew how much i loved them and how badly i wanted to start learning guitar because of them and he proceeded me to give me one for my 13th birthday.

it was one of the greatest gifts someone could have ever given to me.

it wasn't a really tough one to learn so i decided it could be an easy for damon to play.

'the opening riff is just the "F" chord with loads of reverb' i instructed as he was placing his hand on the chord.
'and how do you get that "wavy" feeling?' he asked as he was making this shape of a wave with his hand.
'same thing, you just position your hand to play the "F" chord as i've shown you here in the partiture.' i say as i show him the partiture.
'except hammer on the first-finger barre on the second fret to begin the riff. here let me show you.' i grab my guitar back and start playing so he gets an idea on how to do it.

he focus his eyes on every movement i do with my fingers and stares at them.
when i'm done, he gives me this grimace in confusion.

'what? it's not that hard.' i say as i give him the guitar back. 'now you do it.'

'sure it isn't.' he giggles.

he positioned his hand in "F" chord but as i watch him play, i see he has trouble with changing from chord to chord so i decide to guide him a little.

'let me help you.'
'no, i can do it myself.'
'no you can't, you're awful at this.' i say jokingly.

i stand behind him and lean forward a bit so I can run my hand over the fingerboard of the guitar and grab his fingers to help him go from chord to chord.

'now start playing.' i tell him as i signal him to strum the guitar with his right hand.

then he proceeds strumming the guitar as i guide his fingers with my hand.

'you shut your mouth, you shut your mouth. how can you say i go about things the wrong way?' he began singing.

wow. since when did he learn to sing?

'i am human and i need to be loved. just like everyone else does.'

i looked at him in awe. he never actually told me he had the ability to sing.

i can't tell if he's too concentrated on what he's doing or if he just doesn't mind that i'm resting my chin on his shoulder.

not that i meant to do that, i hadn't realized it either since i was too focused on helping damon out.

maybe he just didn't mind.

then, he finally got it right.

'see? told you it wasn't that hard.'
'how are you so good at this?' he asks.
'i've been playing guitar for a couple of years. it's just practice and dedication. you know what they say, practice makes perfect.' i make a short pause.

'why didn't you tell me you could sing?'
'because i actually can't. i just do it when there's inspiration.'
'bullshit, that was actually pretty good!' i exclaim. 'you should do it more frequently.'
'should i?' he smiles.
'definitely.'

...

'ok that'd be five pounds.' i joke, stretching my hand to charge him.
'fuck off.' he slaps my hand away.