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Gordon always lurks nearby when I'm in quarantine. It's so he can be there the moment Dr Frankenstein & Co. let me go. I appreciate it in ways words fail to express.
"Hey," the man says, nervous as always.
"Gordon," I respond in lieu of a greeting. Saying his name somehow makes him feel more real to me.
"So, what's the plan?" I ask, because Gordon always has one when they finally allow me to spend some time with him. We have been talking over the comm for the past few days, sure, but this is different — being able to actually be around the only person on this base who doesn't treat me like a really interesting pattern on a Petri dish.
Gordon seems to breathe a sigh of relief. I am in a good mood, and we are both thankful for it. Despite what Gordon thinks, I am aware of my mood swings… Unfortunately, being aware doesn't really mean being in control.
"Is there anything specific you wanna do, Warren?"
The question surprises me.
"I didn't really think about it," I say. "No preference?"
"Are you asking me or—"
"No, no preference. Statement. We can… play something if you want? I don't think I really care." I just want to spend some time with you, I don't say.
"Oh, alright then. If you really don't have a preference,—"
"I don't."
"—then I've got something we haven't done yet."
I'm intrigued. I didn't think it was possible to come up with a new activity to do in our free time at this point.
"I was looking for a tape in the Golden Bullet and found this." Gordon holds up a cassette. "It was at the back of the glove box, I basically forgot about it."
Great. Is this another audio of something horribly macabre?
"What is it?" I ask cautiously. I don't think I can handle anything about how fucked up Overhead is right now, especially considering I'm their favourite lab rat at the moment.
"Just some metal songs I like," Gordon says, "I gave them a re-listen. Y'know, while you were hypersleeping."
I am surprised yet again, so I take too long to say something and Gordon visibly grows more nervous.
"Come on! It'll be nice to just relax and listen to some songs," he tries to convince me, but I don't really need any convincing. It does sound nice.
"Yeah, sure," I say.
I expect Gordon to take me to the mess, but he doesn't. Instead, we head to his room in the farmhouse.
We settle on the floor and I take Waffles out of her vivarium while Gordon puts the tape in the cassette player. Energetic music starts playing as she waddles around.
"I put the songs on when I was fixing the flickering light in the bathroom. Or er, trying to, anyway. I just had to make you listen to this one," Gordon says with an impish grin.
"…okay?"
"You'll see."
It takes me way too much effort to look away from his mischievous face and focus on the song. The lyrics start and I miss the first few lines because I'm imagining Gordon, slightly younger, sitting on the floor, just like this, in one of his bandmates' dorm room, listening to this very tape.
Frozen soul, frozen down to the core
Break the ice, I can't take anymore
Freezing (Freezing), can't move at all
Screaming (Screaming), can't hear my call
I am dying to live
Cry out, I'm trapped under ice
"Oh ha ha," I say, acting annoyed despite finding it mildly amusing.
"It's about you!" Gordon exclaims and grins back at me, all teeth.
We listen on.
"Now comes the best part," Gordon speaks over the song again.
No release from my cryonic state
What is this? I've been stricken by fate
Wrapped up tight, cannot move, can't break free
Hand of doom has a tight grip on me
I smack him as he laughs. God, I live for these moments.
Before the next song can start on its own, Gordon starts skipping over them through the tape, quickly glancing at the cassette case. I assume he's looking at the list of songs.
When he settles back down, a song I recognise starts playing. Nothing Else Matters by Metallica.
Gordon notices how I perk up and smiles.
"I thought you might enjoy this one."
I do. Especially when Gordon starts singing along.
"So close, no matter how far," Gordon watches me, eyes twinkling.
"Couldn't be much more from the heart, come on!" he encourages me and continues singing. "Forever trusting who we are."
I can't hide my smile as I join in.
"And nothing else matters."
We sing through the whole song. It's actually quite cathartic.
Gordon doesn't get up to change the song this time. Lonely Day by System Of A Down starts playing.
"Oh yeah, I know this one, too!" It's actually one of my favourites.
Gordon is basically beaming with joy. It feels like the sun is in the room with me.
He sings along again.
"Is this one about you when I'm hypersleeping," I say, turning his own giggle on him.
"Shut up."
Then comes the best part of the song and I can't help myself but join Gordon in singing again.
And if you go, I wanna go with you
And if you die, I wanna die with you
Take your hand and walk away
We both pump up the theatrics in the singing, hands moving in dramatic gestures. We must look ridiculous, but I haven't been this happy and unbothered in a while.
After a few more songs spanning over another half an hour, in which I ask two absolutely deranged 'would you rather' questions and Gordon responds with way too much thought behind his answers, I find myself listening to Gordon ramble about the song that's playing. Well, about the band, really.
"—and they sing about all kinds of sci-fi shit!"
His enthusiasm feels like a drug.
You're in control
I couldn't fight the will to stay
Hm. I really couldn't when he looks this happy.
He rambles some more, and when the song ends, he goes to turn the cassette. I don't recognise the next song either.
The time is close now, the end is near
My walk through the valley, trails of fear
I scoff. It hits absurdly close to home. By which I mean Red Valley.
I feel empty, my penance overdue
I guess it's too late now to be with you
The lyrics reach somewhere deep inside me and touch a sore part of my soul. I feel exposed and, consequently, uncomfortable. Like this song is also about me.
"Uh, Gordon? Can we just skip this one? Please."
I guess that Gordon picks up on my discomfort. He looks slightly worried, his voice impossibly soft and comforting.
"Yeah, sure."
The next song starts playing. The sound is familiar, but I don't recognise it. When they start singing, it clicks pretty fast — Twisted Sister. I know a couple of their songs.
"Twisted Sister is good," I say, paying little mind to the song itself.
"Yeees," Gordon responds, pleased. "They also do pretty much everything. You're in a state of political rage? They've got you covered! You wanna bitch about love? They've also got you covered."
You're not alone
You're not alone
You're not alone
"So," I interrupt the song again, "which of those is this one?"
The lonely hours of unspoken pain
Seems like a lifetime of endless rain
In my confusion I never find
The words to tell you that you're in my mind
Gordon stares at the cassette player like a deer in headlights for a moment, then quickly glances at me, anxious. I can't quite think of a reason for it, but that might be just because our eyes meet and the moment feels so tense that my heart does something funny.
Gordon skips the song. I don't know this one either.
When I saw your face
I became a prisoner of your eyes
I'm starting to pick up a theme.
"Wow. I didn't know there were so many metal songs about feelings."
"…yeah," Gordon admits. He sounds like he was holding his breath.
"And that you liked them," I tease.
"Well…" Gordon's voice cracks. It often does when he's put on the spot.
"This one's nice," I concede.
As I was going under
You pulled me back to earth
"This one really is about us, huh," I blurt out without thinking.
"How do you mean?" Gordon looks at me. His voice is a little strained.
"Oh, I don't know," I try to brush it off, suddenly nervous myself.
"Warren," Gordon says, not quite a question but not quite simply addressing me either. I can't not look at him when he says my name like that.
Our eyes meet and my breath catches. I feel like a bloody teenager who just ran into the classmate he fancies but has never spoken to.
We stare at each other for what must be only a moment. It feels like centuries. I know the song is still playing, but I can barely hear it anymore. There's only static in my brain.
Trapped in time
I cannot leave you
I'm just a prisoner of your eyes
Gordon looks away and speaks so quietly that the only reason I can understand him is because I'm staring at his lips.
"Everyone here does things to you without asking."
I'm not quite sure why he's bringing that up right now. It's not exactly a pleasant thing to think about.
"I kind of really want to kiss you, but I don't want to be like that."
Oh.
"Then ask," I say, mouth moving faster than my brain. If I could fully process what was happening, I would for sure freak out about it.
Gordon looks back at me, surprise and hope.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks, the hope on his face bleeding through into his voice as well.
"Yes. Please."
Gordon blinks at me and reaches his hand out towards my face nervously. He stops it mid-air, as if unsure whether I'm serious. Then he seems to decide that I am, in fact, serious, reaching out further, but he awkwardly hovers said hand by my face, twitching with aborted movement as he can't quite decide where to put it.
I laugh softly. Or— no, I don't know what else to call it, because 'I let out air through my nose in fond amusement' sounds weird.
Gordon relaxes a little and chuckles with me, dropping his hand down.
"Sorry mate, I seem to be really bad at this," he says with a strange mix of amusement and anxiety in his voice. The whole situation is so bloody Gordon that I can't help it and actually laugh a little. Of course this man would be too bloody nervous to do what apparently both of us want.
"C'mere," I wave him over and he shuffles closer.
In the end, it's me kissing Gordon, despite the fact that he was the one to ask. And it's so… My head spins, is what I'm trying to say. I try to pace myself, but Gordon tastes like the tea he's been sipping on the whole time we've been sitting here with the songs, and I find myself pulling him closer. He doesn't protest.
He's so gentle and caring with his kisses. It makes me feel fragile, but not in the sense of being weak. It's more like I'm a precious work of art and Gordon is scared of damaging me if he handles me too roughly. It's still a little maddening, because if there's one person I wouldn't mind a bit of rough handling from, it's Gordon. And he's the only one who doesn't.
I'm struggling to hold back my eagerness. I don't want to taint the soft moment, but you have to understand. I've been going crazy over this man for what feels like years. Yes, I know it's only been a couple months. Yes, I know I've been clinically dead and unaware of the world around me for a good chunk of that. However. Well, that's exactly it, isn't it? Gordon went through so much just so I wouldn't have to be alone. I mean, not at first, obviously. First it was the threat of… how did he put it? A grizzly murder? But then it was so I wouldn't be alone.
Bryony told Grace once, when she pretended I couldn't hear them, that high-stress environments like this make people develop strong bonds faster. I suspect she mentioned it because of me and Gordon. Or maybe my soul and his are just made of the same messed up, severely traumatised gunk. I think I will tell him that, one day. It's a good anti-thesis to his memoir title.
The song changes just as I deepen the kiss. It has a completely different vibe to it that goes quite well with our change of pace. We're becoming sloppier, more heated. The barely-there sounds Gordon makes as I let my hands roam more and more freely are intoxicating. We're both gasping for air in between kisses, never pulling off long enough to catch our breath. God, it feels so good, to just kiss him to my heart's content.
Gordon seems to be getting more confident with each passing second. His hand slides under the awful Overhead sweatshirt Pam brought me after my first emergence — maybe Gordon would let me borrow one of his t-shirts after this? — and he tries to pull me even closer, which is not possible at this point.
So wash your face away with dirt
It don't feel good until it hurts
He bites my lip and I'm very glad we're sitting on the floor, because my knees would give out just then. The way he licks into my mouth seconds later makes me lightheaded.
Stoke fire, break neck
Suffer through this, cheat on death
He breaks the kiss and looks at me with a look that is absolutely filthy and an amount of confidence I've never seen on him. It suits him. The latter as well as the former.
Come squeeze and suck the day
Come carpe diem, baby
I surge forward, but he doesn't allow me deep kisses, trying to bribe me with short, slow, shallow ones. I'm close to begging when Gordon slowly presses his palm against my chest, increasing force until my back touches the floor. He rearranges me slightly and kneels around me. Holy fuck he's hot.
He grabs me by the wrists and moves them above my head, where he pins them with one hand, sliding the other one under my sweatshirt again. Then he leans back down to capture my lips in a deep, searing kiss.
Come make me miss you
Come carpe diem, baby
Come carpe diem, baby