lights

Flicking the light switch on and off. His room being darkened and lit up by bland yellow lights.

In his head, he could see flashing neon lights and all other kinds of lights swirling around. A different time.

The heater hummed as it churned out air. Sitting next to it, holding his hands up to the exhaust would feel so good.

Frigid air. Sweaty bodies. His own, hot.

Otherwise silence.

Loud, blaring, rhythm.

His smelled bad. Of dog after a long shower.

It smelled bad. And good. Sweat, hormones, after all, he was an animal. They all were. They could smell and taste the hormones in the air. And that made them excited. It made him excited. He dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his pants. His erection rubbed against them. He looked around awkwardly. Sweat, hormones. Cologne.

The wooden floor felt cold and smooth, speckled with flecks of rough dust. His feet were bare.

He was in his nice joggers, comfortable. He could feel the stickiness of the floor with every step. It bothered him. It didn’t seem to bother anyone else.

He flicked the light switch on and off. In the darkness, he could see the other. Then he’d turn it back on, and it would be his room.

The other was a cavernous room. He was standing right by the speakers that were hammering out loud sounds. His heart raced with them. Out of control of his mind. Away from his body. As if trying to escape. He panicked a little.

On. His room was calming. Soothing. His heart slowed down. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

Off. The lights were flashing. Different colors. People were dancing, up, down. Up. Down. Attractive. Barely clothed. Unattractive. Barely clothed. His heart was racing away from him.

On. Soothing. Simple. Comfortable. He knew his room. It gave him solace. He was alone. Off.

He was surrounded by people. He had moved away from the speakers. They were all around him. Not encircling. He was terrified of being surrounded by a circle of them at these things. They always expected you to do something. He wasn’t that kind of person.

On. Soothing. Safe.

Off. Flashing. Screaming. Joyful.

On. He breathed.

Off. His heart thumped.

On. He gasped for air. Sucking it in like he wouldn’t get it when he flicked the lights off in his room.

Off. He couldn’t breathe. The air was constricting. Too tight. It would not come in. He felt sick in his stomach. He didn’t know where the switch was. How would he turn it off. He began to panic. He found it and-

On. In his room. On his knees. That was close. Beads of sweat on his forehead. He didn’t want to do it again but he couldn’t help it.

Off-on-off-on-off-on- and again and again. He collapsed onto the sofa, his fingers turning the switches on and off. His brain could not handle it. His hand dropped. He started twitching. Uncontrollably. Faster and faster. Eyes moving around, then still. Mouth open, foam forming by it. Tongue lolling out.