2015-04-02 22:23:59 by Quarl
A Game To Remember
Jarryd was on his way to the annual Australian Chip Tune festival. He could feel the wind in his hair as it forced a smile from his somewhat impish yet still boyish features. It was a great day to be alive he thought to himself. He dismounted his Vespa and ejected the cassete for mobile enjoyment on his walkman at a later point. An avid collector of trash and technology long forgotten, he said to himself for the umptenth time, "They just don't make cassette players like they used to."
He tossed the cassette into his leather steampunk satchel, strapped it to his leg, and hobbeled off in a way that only a half-thought out fashion statement could produce. He didn't expect to pick up any chicks with the stroll he was currently displaying, but there was a certain fire in his eyes that only a fellow alternative music junky could truly understand. It was a fire that glistened in the heat of the day and made his shortcomings irrelevant. Today was a very special day.
He aproached a few of the venues at the festival over the next hour or so. There was time to kill before the big show. He had agreed to do a DJ set with a few other Aussie favorites. A lot of the names were familiar to him. There was Nintendrix from Melbourne who curiously decided to perform Jimi Hendrix-Nintendo mashups alongside an old court room stenotype. Echo Echo was a popular trans* DJ from the United States. But one name stood out more than any other: Midimachine, or as he's known by friends and family, Rohan.
The two had brushed shoulders a few times in the past. It might have been his imagination, but Jarryd had felt as if more than just shoulders had touched. It was like two seemingly complimentary spirits had glimpsed into the soul of the other. Jarryd hadn't voiced the true depth of his feelings out of fear, but today was going to be different.
He was carrying his lucky Memorex MB2059B Voice Recorder. Some of his best tunes were built off of the cheap lo-fi sounds that only second hand junk could faithfully produce. After all, he knew that any sound captured on it could later be compressed, distorted, amplified, and resampled. He wasn't after kicks, chirps, and blips though. He wanted a piece of Rohan's mind. He wanted voice samples that only love could produce. He was curious if Rohan sharred his feelings. He wondered if it was truely love or if it was just some odd fantasy he was chasing after.
Rohan slipped away from the crowd of the festival for a few minutes to regrease his hair. Crowds were never really his thing. He was kind of shy and just wanted a little space to breath. He had been aproached by a few girls minutes earlier and the experience had left him empty. As they tried to pique his interest with their impressive knowledge of former Neo Geo hits and Dreamcast trivia, Rohan only slipped further away into his moody anticipation. He knew Jarryd would be at the festival.
One year ago the two had met in a dark gay bar. Katy Perry was blarring on the monitors. It was another drag night with glitzy queens and sad stereotypes but the two boys had locked eyes, made conversation, and had left with a mutual feeling of suspense. It was as if the night was supposed to last forever but the time stamp signaled that the evening would end at midnight. It was a school night after all. Meanwhile half of the queens were still underage. As the manager hurried the patrons out of the saloon Rohan had felt his heart tear a little. Who was this Jarryd fellow and why did he wait all of Rohan's life to appear? They could have been family in a past life, so why were they so seemingly distant in this one?
Rohan's imagination twirled around inside of his head as his hair gel took various forms and shapes on the outside. Eventually Rohan decided that his hair looked "good enough", despite having no real progression from a sloppy mess into an even sloppier mess. It was fasionable and he had to admit to himself that it would just never look as good as it did in highschool. He pulled out a retro pocket Gameboy, zigg zagged his way through the hustle and bustle, and booted up a game of Tetris. His gaze would leave his screen every few seconds to affirm some kind of direction that wasn't leading him into a wall. It was an escape.
His perspective shifted. The people in Rohan's way became colorful falling blocks in a 2D plane. Suddenly he didn't need to focus. It was as if the world on his screen was sycnhed with his legs as he managed to narrowly avoid knocking over a cosplayer on stilts. His feet moved in rhythm to the game. Seeing a lucky break in the block pattern Rohan flipped his headphones over his ears and really started to get into a flow. The familiar Russian folk melody allowed Rohan to melt into the crowd. The difficulty increased and the tempo got faster. He could feel his heart racing as he neared his old high score. The rows of blocks steadily grew taller. Rohan began to sweat.
He walked straight into a wall. The gameboy cracked and his still tender heart began to fall apart. All was lost. Tears began to well up in his eyes. The memories he had of that device dated back to elementary school. Through the years, his friends had come and gone, but his Gamboy was his boyfriend for life. At that moment, as if the great Greek Gods of Mount Olympus commanded it, Rohan could hear a familiar voice sing into his ear.
"I have like three of those at home if you want one."
"Jarryd!" Rohan exclaimed. "It's really not that important. I wasn't being very careful," he confessed.
"What have you been up to mate?" Mate? Did I really just say mate? Jarryd thought to himself. Suddenly Jarryd began to sweat as well. His social anxieties began to inch back into his psyche. Lucky for him, Rohan filled the awkward void.
"Oh, not a whole lot it would seem."
"Maybe we could talk about it a bit more over milkshakes?"
Really? Did I just say milkshakes?, cried Jarryd's embarrased inner voice.
Rohan took a brave step forward. "I'd love that. Or wait, no. How about slurpies instead? I almost forgot I have a lactose intolerance."
Jarryd's composure returned swiftly when he realized a fleeting passion eminating from Rohan as well. Jarryd swiftly nodded in agreement over the choice in beverage and decided to lead the way. Jarryd was aware of a convenient store located nearby with a Slurpee machine inside of it. They'd have to leave the festival momentarily, but their pass-cards were secure. Safely tucked under their shirts. Readmittance was guranteed but it was begining to look as if the two legendary artists would not return in time for their DJ sets.
In a dark alley not far from the festival, the primal chirps of fornication began to twitter. A hot electric mess was begining to pulse. At first the ritual seemed mechanical. Their clothes came off. Their skin embraced. Rohan could feel Jarryd's hand on his crotch. Heat eminated from their body parts and a fire began to burn. Jarryd could feel the wind in his hair again. He let out a small squeelch not unlike something analog. Rohan threw his hands down Jarryd's backside and grasped him by the hips.
The person in Rohan's way became a flat plane recieving his colorful shapes. Thrust after thrust, Rohan proved time and time again that his attack would endure. For every attack Jarryd could mitigate, Rohan had another ready. As the rainbow blocks continued to fall, Rohan began to speed up. The two boys began to sweat. Rohan pulled Jarryd's hair.
"Have me!" screamed Jarryd. Rohan began to creshendo. The hardness increased and the tempo got faster. A sudden break in the pattern. He could feel his heart racing. His legs began to tremble as he managed to roar out a victorious "yes!" Rohan had climaxed. He withdrew his flacid member from his mate and bagan an awkward hunt for his under garmets. He found his briefs and slacks atop a garbage can. Not the best place to throw them, but he was kind of in a rush when he put them there. The two boys cautiosly put their clothe's back on and reluctantly returned to society.
Later that night Jarryd found himself restless. While the concert was missed that day and a few booking agents were pissed, Jarryd managed to see the positive aspects of his day. He returned home with a number to call, an email to write, and a lover to pine for. His jovial fantasies began to subside. Jarryd removed the Memorex voice recorder from his satchel. He hit play on the recorder and relived his afair. The reverberation of his boyfriend's climax immortalized.