i fucking hate it here already, i thought to myself. it's good that i decided to get out of bed but i didn't even think it through much. the music is throbbing in my ears, the people all are all drugged up and i just feel anxious. dim lights coat the halls towards the toilet and i feel like i might throw up.
the year is 1999 and it is summer time.
i used to feel good during the summer, but my life has lately been plagued with uncomfortable changes and rotten memories i need to let go of. life doesn't seem to link hands with me. toilet walls are smeared with all sorts of teen angst in red markers, and i find myself right in the middle of it all facing the mirror, depicting every pseudo-deep quote with my tired eyeliner eyes and pale skin. god, i thought to myself, you look a fucking mess. i haven't even popped a pill yet but my body looks like it morphed. i don't know how to put it other than that i'm just... not looking good. i mean, i try to make the best of it. i guess i look good for a crackwhore. and with that thought, i giggled to myself, fixed my make up and left.
i prepared myself before actually walking into the club because i felt like i could die at any moment from an anxiety attack. god, can i fucking relax for once in my life? it's actually so funny to me that i'm doing this. like it will make anything better in my life. like it will change something. but, i mean, it's better than rotting away at home, right?
right.
so i try to walk inside. music matching my quickened heartbeat. opening the door, about to leave the dark hallway, into this vomit of colors covering the dancefloor.

SHIT!

"oh my god. are you good?" asks me an attractive, deep voice.
"uh, not really. fuck." i say, releasing air from nose to lighten the mood.

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i have just accidentally walked into some tall dude and bumped my head against his chin really hard. oh, of fucking course jessika. of fucking course.

the figure of the man seems broad and one of a kind, i can't describe it. i haven't gotten to see his face yet due to falling onto the ground. as the lights are dim i can't register much of him in front of me, but i see a pair of ripped black jeans, black doc martens as well as a chain hanging from the side of his hip and a black tee with some cool graphics on it. looks fine as hell from here, not gonna lie. i'm intrigued.

"can i help?" he asks.
"no, i'm good. i think."

i look up at him, releasing noises of pain through gritted teeth. fuck, my leg hurts.

...

no fucking way.

...

i look at his face. and i flinch.

"oh shit, you're hot."
...
did i just really fucking say that out loud?

"haha, excuse me doll?" he smiles playfully at me, fixing himself and offering me a helping hand. i accept and try my best not to look into his eyes out of embarrassment. the lights of the club coat his entire body so perfectly, and there is something so hypnotizing about what i'm seeing right now.

and wait, did he just call me...
...doll?

"i. i am. i. oh. um."
"did you also get some brain damage from falling or are you just shy looking at me, sweet cheeks?"

no way.
what a cocky little bitch.
this is going to be a rollercoaster ride of feelings for me, isn't it?

i keep on looking at him and i still can't seem to register how handsome he is. his eyes are a light and cold blue paired with a distinctive nose and a pair of soft lips curled up into a smirk. his eyebrows look carved and he seems to have some black eyeshadow on his lids lightly blended. his face has something so alluring about it, or just, his entire being does, and i do think that it might give me some brain damage. how can i even respond to him? oh my god, and he's cocky. oh my god.

"you? and making me shy? tsk, arrogant much?" i joke around, knowing damn well he's right.
"arrogant? if you saw how fucking red you got when you first looked at me, you would understand. but sure, i'm arrogant." he snickered back at me while fixing his dark blue hair.

i already knew he would be the death of me with that sentence alone.
an asshole with an attitude but who also wanted to help me out? i'm all his.
dude, can i chill? what if he's not even all that?
but god, he's so hot. but so intimidating, too. i should leave now, it’s getting too much.

"alright. whatever you say." i roll my eyes and say with a joking tone.

and then he proceeded to say something where i knew he absolutely got me fucked up.

"got an attitude, princess?"

...

got an attitude, princess. got a fucking attitude.
i'm sweating like never before and i start to heat up like crazy as he raises his eyebrows and pierces right through me with his sharp gaze. he is just standing there, yet he is not. he seems to be punching right back at me. and he seems to fucking know, too.
i hate how i can feel myself getting red.
i hate it.
i hate it so much.
i'm speechless and i have no idea how to respond so my mouth forms into slight O shape and i stand there, in shock.

"you..." i whisper lightly and cut myself off. he starts to walk up to me until he's close and checks me out head to bottom. i gulp really hard and he laughs again.

"you're cute. i have to go now, though. getting ready for my show on stage later. come watch me if you like. i'll immediately find you in the crowd because your face looks like a tomato." he smirks, lightly patting my back.
"YEAH YEAH, WHATEVER. HAVE FUN." i scoff and try to walk away into the crowd of people dancing.

"wait." he says.
"what?"
"nice ass you got there."
i give him a confused look and check my own ass out to see if it's exposed, which it's not. i was wearing a yellow checkered skirt with no possible outline of my ass showing.

he laughs.
"be careful when you fall, your skirt went all the way up. can't let creepy dudes see you."

he did just not say that.
oh my god, no.
i am just an embarassment. i try to look cool to some sexy guy this whole time while my entire ass was out for him to see? what do i do. oh my god. what do i do? i need to safe myself. he can't think i'm that much of a loser.

"oh, like you?" i hiss back at him.
"good one, doll."

bingo.

"see you later, yeah?" he shouts as he throws a wink at me and leaves into the backstage area that is located right next to the stage.

did all of this just truly happen?
i have no words.
he is an asshole. yes he is.
but a hot one.
but GOD. FUCK HIM.
but god... fuck me.
fuck.
his posture alone makes me blush, it's so embarrassing. and i know he noticed it too. what am i going to do? should i really go and watch him? i bet he's lame. and can't sing. or whatever he does.
fuck, i hate him.
i need to see him more.

when he called me princess i felt like
i was reborn.
like he was throttling my heart continuously.
like my lungs inverted on the spot.
but yeah, fuck him though.

the dj is playing some current hits and i find myself to be in a pool full of drugged up people dancing their worries away.
that “blue” song is playing. is this a joke? i mean, it’s a good song. but this just feels like a fever dream right now and i’m one step away from simply turning hysterical.

before i could even start dancing, two girls started to approach me. their arms were linked and they rocked platforms with cute matching mini dresses.
“hey girl!” one of them said, smiling at me and adjusting her glasses.

i have truly never seen them before, and i was a little terrified, to be quite honest, at all the encounters i suddenly have with strangers. i proceeded to smile and say hey right back. how will i embarrass myself this time, i thought.

“i know this is so weird, and i promise we don’t, like, stalk you or bech or whatever, but we just saw you talking to him and girl, how was it? do you know him? he’s so hot, isn’t he?”

his name is bech? even his name is sexy?
give me a fucking break, man.

i was fairly curious as to why to why they know him and why they’re so oddly obsessed with him. is he that popular of an artist?
dude, did I just talk to some punk legend without even realizing it?
my friends are right, i truly live under a rock when it comes to mainstream artists.

“to be quite honest, i don’t even know that bech guy. i accidentally bumped into him and he helped picking me up from the ground. he’s like, hot, yeah, but also, whatever.”

as i was letting my words flow out i assumed they were big fans by the way their eyes widened with every sentence i spoke. i just can’t help but ask for more information on him from them. i’m actually turning insane.

“can you guys tell me some stuff about him? you seem to know him pretty well?”

they both look at eachother and start squeaking in unison.

“HIS NAME IS BECH THORS AND HE IS BORN DECEMBER 24TH 1980 HE IS TRANS NONBINARY AND HE WAS BORN AND RAISED IN SWEDEN HE SPEAKS OVER FIVE LANGUAGES AND IS INTERESTED IN MECHANICAL WORK AS WELL AS PSYCHOLOGY AND LINGUISTICS HE HAS A PET DOG CALLED ALVA AND TWO BIRDS NAMED FYLKE AND LUKE HE IS SINGLE AND KNOWN TO BE A COMPLETE HEARTTHROB HE HAS MADE MULTIPLE HIT SINGLES THAT HAVE PEAKED AT HIGH PLACES OF THE CHARTS HE IS VERY FLIRTY AND-“

she takes a deep breath and coughs heavily as her friend starts to laugh and divert her attention onto me.

“we’re huge fans, yeah.”

...

what the absolute fuck just happened?
and i thought i was crazy for liking him so much already. yeah, no, i think i’m good now.
i mean, i am not surprised he got girls all over his dick like that but god, i didn’t know it was to such an extent. it’s actually a little concerning.
well, at least i got some info on him. 19 years old, single and sounds pretty intelligent. i truly am fucked for falling for him like that. but hey, at least i'm not THAT batshit crazy over him.

for now.

“thank you for letting me kn-“

and before i could even finish my sentence, the dj took up the stage to announce something all across the club.

“i know you guys are just as excited as i am to be welcoming this very special guest on stage today. can you guys guess it? of course you can, welcome the punk rock legend BECH THORS!”

and with that, the crowd goes wild, and so does my heart,

as I find myself to be right in front of the stage, locking eyes with him as he walks out with his red electric guitar hanging against his stomach.

fuck.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS UP, CALI?” he yells excitedly, raising his hands right straight up as everyone raises their voices even higher. it’s like he knows he will get all these cheers, every movement seems so calculated and charming.
seeing him on stage has a completely different feeling to it, i mean, of course it does, but… it’s weird… i can’t seem to put my eyes off him right now. i feel like i’ve been put in a spell to stay locked like this. but it’s just… him. bech thors.
with his gaze hovering the crowd he then proceeds to find mine…
…
and doesn’t stop looking either?

my body is in trance as his cold eyes cause me to get dizzy and hot for a moment, unable to function and scared to move. he smirks and puts the microphone to his mouth again, walking around stage casually, still, not giving up on this staring game we’re playing.
“what a great audience i have with me today. love the energy so much already. let’s play some songs now, right? are you all fucking ready?”
everyones shouting echoes through the club which leads bech to show a cunning expression on his face. he knows the crowd loves him, he does.

the music blasts in my ears and his voice echoes in my ears. a sweet honey like tone with a slight raspiness when he raises it. it’s almost like a firework of running milk chocolate, but also a fest of strobing rainbow lights in a dark room. it’s energy, and it’s comfort, and it’s freedom, and it’s love, and it’s sex, and it’s…

wow.

“you bring the bleach, I'll bring chlorine
we can dye our hair a color
that nobody's ever seen
you're a national threat and you're messing with my head
'cause baby you're a punk rock queen
yeah baby you're a punk rock queen”

he performs his heart out, sweat rolling down his face, yelling into the microphone like his life depended on it. there is something so fascinating about the way he moves around and lets go of himself.
almost like he doesn’t care. like he lost a care in the world.
i was unable to look away, but really, do i want to?
as he holds his guitar and plays it, i watch each his single move.
the way he holds the guitar reminds me of a greek god that is being depicted as a statue standing in the most expensive museums. wow, how corny, jessika.
with the way he pulls each string to create a melody, i find myself melting and intrigued.
how is he so goddamn fine?
hair covering his pale face, veins popping out of his arms, fingers focused on the show. and his eyes find mine again. and again.
and again, and again, and again.
my heart attacks me again,
and again, and again, and again.

he kneels down, nonchalantly takes his hair out of his face and continues to sing his song. it almost feels like he is trying to give me a message, like he is singing this… to me?
pff, what the fuck are you even thinking, jessika?
you’re not that important. get out of dreamland, you’ve gotten lost a little too much.
someone like him is unreachable. i understand the hype now.
he is a literal vampire who has bitten and cursed me to fall in love with him. goddamn it.

“dressed in all black
you revel in your ego
no looking back
you rebel and we need you”

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the stage is over. he has said his goodbyes and the dj has taken over to play some songs out of crowds choice just like before. everyone started dancing and moving around again, yet i seem to not be able to. my legs are glued to the ground, my knees feel like pudding and i don’t seem to process what just has happened to me in any way.
he looked at me. he looked at me. he looked at me. he looked at me. he looked at me.
this will sound absolutely corny and whatsoever, but i don’t want to leave my place because i want to replay what has happened forever. to look at the stage and to hallucinate my life away just to feel everything i have just felt. just to see his eyes shooting through my body. it’s like every gaze he gave me was another bullet he aimed right into my chest.
was that even real? was i not just hallucinating? i surely am delusional, but not that delusional. It can’t be.
but he’s too good for me?
…
i can’t leave.

without any hesitation i fall onto his back and cling onto him. he leads me into the backstage hall. i close my eyes out of exhaustion from the flashing lights and he walks through a door with the name “BECH” written on it. must be his stage name, too. of course. that name is too sexy not to use for, like, everything.
“sit down right there. on the couch. take a blanket too, yeah? there’s water on the table.”
i slide off his back and slowly step towards the couch he told me to sit down on, letting myself fall onto it. i put the blanket over my lap, and left the water alone.
he sat down on the couch next to the one i sat on, taking a bottle and gulping it all the way down. wow, he is even more handsome in normal lighting. he really is some sort of… human god. is that even possible? his nose creates a lovely slope, his jeans hug him so nicely, it’s like everything about him is unbelievably perfect. it’s scary, really.
“no water, princess?” he offers, legs both on the couch as he lazily sits back.
“who knows what you put in there before i got here.” i joke around, but also, it is odd that he took me here, and that he has been looking at me the way he did. gotta stay safe and all.

“hey.” a familiar voice said behind me and tapped my shoulder. i flinch and turn around quickly. it can’t be.
“BECH?”
he closes my mouth and puts his finger on his lip, shushing me. “dude, be quiet. i have some crazy fangirls here.”
“good for you. what do you want?”
“first off, nice to meet you too, what’s your name?”
what games is he trying to play with me? is he just trying to get a quick fuck for tonight? Is that it? well, he’s fucking wrong here. i mean, i would absolutely let it happen but, GOD, something about how perfect he is makes me so angry.
“jessika, with a k. look, if you want to-“
“with a k? that’s so fucking cool and unique. you seem to not be doing well. is it your first time at a place like this?”
he… wants to know about me?
i start trembling and thinking for a little while of what to say. i look left and right and the flashing lights are making me dizzy. i can’t concentrate at all and almost collapse on the spot.
“can we… go somewhere quiet, please? i think i will-“ bech worriedly looks at me, steps forward, turns around and kneels a little. “piggyride, c’mon.”

“you think you’re all that, miss jessika?” he smirks, putting down the water bottle and pushing his long hair back.
“it’s not like you constantly stared at me on stage or something. what was all that even about, may i ask?”
i really hope he doesn’t think i’m too mean and wants me to leave or something, but since he is playing the same game, i’m bouncing back on him the same way.
i notice him turn silent for a little, eyes widening and head lowering. his expression practically yelled “damn”, and i felt proud for a little, but i was actually, truly curious. what does he want from me?
“so you noticed?” his voice lowers.
“duh.”
he lowers his feet from the couch and lightly bites his lip. “to put it simple, i think you’re really hot. to tell you about it in depth, the first song that i sang was about a girl i made up. one that i deem as ideal. and i know it seems objectifying, or superficial, but it started to really spark to me when you talked back to me the way you did, and gave me these expressions and mannerisms. your appearance just added on to it. so yeah, that’s the reason i looked at you the way i did. didn’t want to lose your attention. no, i know what you think. i didn’t bring you here because of that. i thought that i could approach you and get your number on the dancefloor alone. i brang you here because i saw how dizzy you are and i was truly worried. even with your attitude, you seem so fragile and small, and i can’t let something happen to you. damn, i’m rambling a lot. basically, you’re fucking gorgeous, jessika.”
(...)

i sat there in complete silence, processing each word he has just spoken to me.
he likes me. he… likes me?
he thinks i’m… attractive? he likes me. like i like him.
this is a sick fucking joke. i don’t believe this in any way.

i stand up and walk up to him sitting on the other couch. no reply yet. just silence.
he looks up at me, extremely surprised, yet sly looking.

“can you, like, pinch me? like, is this real? can you pinch me, please?” i obey him to.

his mouth curls into a cocky smile. “oh, can i decide where to pinch?”
“YOU ARE SO ANNOYING.” i snap out of my cold persona and laugh, falling onto the couch he’s seated in.
i hate this. he must be getting off to this, right?

“OH FINALLY, I BROKE YOU!” he exclaimed, hands on his head as his smile widens to show his sparkly whites. broke me? does this mean he tried to just see me smile? that was his goal?
“don’t get me wrong, princess, i mainly wanted to make you smile,
but i also wanted to turn you on. whoops, secrets out.”
“yeah, you did a great job both of that, fucker.” i playfully mentioned.
“oh, is that so?” he flirted, looking up and down at me as he fixed his hair.

i can’t deny that the air was getting thicker as i seated myself next to him, looking down on his spread legs and how his ripped jeans exposed little skims of him. god, i feel like a horny teenage boy right now finding his first playboy magazine. but worse, really.

i didn’t offer him a response but i smirked a little and looked away.

“what’s that? what makes you so shy now, hm?” his voice turns lower, eyes visibly hovering me. his hand extends to my face to grab me by the chin and make me face him. i am visibly pink.
“pff, try harder at making yourself look like you’re in control. you were the one who couldn’t resist staring at me. needy, much?” i tease, not losing control over my eye contact with him.
it feels just like when i was in the crowd, but way more intense.

and by that sentence, his face lowered lightly to expose a pair of darkened blue eyes.
they’re still piercing and cold, but not as light as they were before. he looks like he wants to devour me.
like i’m on his killing list. but fuck, he can kill me and i’d be happy.

his grip on my chin loosens and his fingers snakes down from my throat to my belly, right back up to my lips that are lightly opened at the sensation of this entire situation.

“what a disobedient little brat you are. i bet you won’t be this brave when i bend you over and fuck you into oblivion, or, princess?”

“won’t believe it until you show me, daddy.”

and from there we start making out on the spot, leaving no space or time for silence to take over. the room fills with the sound of heavy breathing and lips clashing passionately at eachother. before it gets any more heated, bech loosens his belt, pulls back for a second and commands me to sit on his lap as soon as his cock pops out. i hurry over to his lap to straddle him as our clothes are being taken off by the other.

the situation changed so quickly, but there are truly no complaints.
his cold, veiny hands travel down my spine, leaving a trail of his love behind for me to addicted to. his hands truly felt like magic, his kisses devilishly good, his tongue tastes like heaven. that i find myself to be making out with a punk rock star in their dressing room sounds so fucking cliché,
but it’s happening,

it’s real.

that’s insane.

after one night of bomb make out sessions, loud moans echoing across the room, sweet pain given by scratches and alcohol infused kisses, i find myself to lay awake next to him. to him.
yes, THE “guy from before”, the “legend”, the “mystery”.

all jokes aside, it is him, bech thors, correct.

guess where i am, too? at his house. in his bed.

let me explain, okay? it went a little like this:
we had sex, it was amazing, i was beyond exhausted and he cleaned me up, took care of me and lifted me up to his car to then make me fall asleep at his place. and here we are, covered in innocent white sheets, laying right next to eachother, the morning rising up to greet us.

the sun covers his fair skin with kisses, and i find myself watching it all in awe.
he is so beautiful, like, beyond all that sexy, daddy shit. he truly is someone so, so fascinating as a person. not only does his spirit seem so awakened, so alive, so fresh and young, his appearance seems to match it completely.

the way his eyelashes cover his undereyes with their lovely length, his messy hair goes into all sorts of places, my hickeys spread all over his body make him look like an actual artwork, his hands are locked with mine throughout the whole night. i didn’t ever feel so safe to hold somebody this way, to give someone my trust this way. but he gained it so quickly. wow.

i’m in love with an idiot that didn’t watch his step.

i’m in love with a punk rock legend who begged for “kissies” during aftercare.

i’m in love with a man that tried to talk to me about what cereal he likes the most in full detail on our car ride to his place at approximately 3 am.

i’m in love with bech thors, and please, don’t ever let it stop.

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