Heat. Sweat slowly drips from your forehead, as if the beads are even too tired. You desperatly stuggle with you clothing, but everything feel too warm, too constricting. Genius. Yes, thats what you must be, coming to this noisy, crowded club on the hottest nigth of the year. You should just silently slip out. You could go home and camp out in front of the fridge. But no, instead you stay there. Spell. You must under some spell, something the heat is doing to keep you here. But in the back your mind, you really know that you're staying here becase you want to get away. From anything. Wind.
The door swings open and a refreshing gust of wind tickles your neck. You circle your fingers on the rim of your glass, the ice compeltely melted inside. From the corner of your eye, you can see who was so kind to open the door. His bright hair sticks out in the dark, mellow room. He is wearing a jacket, as if the heat doesn't affect him. Eyes. His eyes are the deepest blue, like the cool, clear ocean. You are close enough to dive in. He sees you staring, and approaches you. You begin to sweat, as if you weren't enough already. Voice. His voice is like a melody, showering you with harmonious notes. "You look hot." You giggle. "Well of course I do, so does everyone else." He smirks back. "Would you like a drink?" "Oh, yes, I'd practically die for one." "Good" he says, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the bar. Cold. His hands are so cold . . .
Air. The air rushes towards your faces as he pulls you out the door. So much for getting you a drink. "Cheap bastard" you silently think. Your heels click across the sticky pavement. Unconciously, you grip on his cold hand harder. How can he be like this? Hard. Your knees hit the ground as you trip over something. At least you think you tripped over something, right? He stare is intent as the blood drips from your cut knee. He picks you up. "Lets get that taken care of, shall we" he says, an air of urgency in his voice. "Sure, thanks." you say timidly, still overwhelmed by the handsome face before you. He puts his arm around you, the silky leather against your bare back. Painted nails stroke your hair, shining in the moonlight. Bright. He runs his hands through his bright hair, almost nervously. You run your fingers along the rough brick wall on the alley. Darkness looms before you, the lights of the club withdrawing behind you. The blood drips down your leg, mixing with the sweat coating your skin. You lick your lips, and taste the saltiness of your sweat. A metallic taste enters your mouth as you feel the hand stroking your hair hold on tighter. Nervously, you looked toward him. Gaze. His gaze is straight, as if knowing his destination, and wanting to be there as soon as possible. He catches you looking. He twists he neck toward you, and he gives you a quick smile. His eyes travel down your body, holding at the bloodied mess on you knee. Heart. Your heart beats faster, out of fear, out of anticipation. "Don't worry" he says, sensing you thoughts. "Just follow me." . .