A New Life (River Phoenix)

Lost In The World Of Music

By the time we'd gotten to the fourth floor, it was all commotion. We headed down the hallway and towards the faint sound of electric guitars.

It was easy to tell it was Flea; he had a very personalized way of playing.

It sounded, and looked, like he had put every thought and every feeling into his sound. It truly was a magical thing.

I admired it.

Entering their apartment room, I was immediately taken over by the smell of cologne and fresh pizza.

A man and a woman sat on the couch River and I had slept on. They held beers and loud laughters, admiring each other's company.

Another younger looking man laid on the ground. A cigarette hung from his lips as he starred up at the ceiling. His eyes looked slightly lifeless and unfocused.

If I hadn't knew any better, I'd say he was under the influence of some type of drug.

In a way, though, he seemed completely sane. His face wasn't discolored or sweaty, and he laid mostly still, blinking occasionally.

My guess was marijuana.

Piper's first instinct was beer. And let me tell you, I wasn't surprised.

Once she had headed to the kitchen, I started down the opposite way. Chatter and laughter grew as I made my way down the hall.

I went straight to the source of the music, expecting to see Flea. After dodging through a couple people in the doorway, I saw exactly what I wanted to see.

Flea and River.

Both of them hung over guitars, unaware that I had arrived.

Flea wore blue pajama pants and a white t-shirt with writing on it that I couldn't make out. His head bobbed as he continued playing, whereas River was much more still. His hair had gotten slightly shorter since the night before. He wore a red, thin-looking sweater and a pair of plaid green pajama pants.

It seemed as if everyone dressed on the nicer side, besides River and Flea.

I leaned against the door, waiting minutes for them to end their jam session. The clock read about 11:50, but the time seemed to pass much slower.

As time went on, more people left as more people arrived.

But to my surprise, Flea and River stayed completely still; lost in the world of music.

River suddenly looked up, examining the room until he saw me.

The smile on his face was barely noticeable. He motioned for me to join him, and I did. I took the spot next to him and stayed quiet until he spoke up. For a few minutes he continued jamming with Flea, and then stopped.

"Nice seeing you." He said simply.

"Yeah, you as well." I answered.

He seemed tense and his voice was slightly off. He cleared his throat and set down his guitar, getting up and helping me do the same.

"Let's get some drinks." He told me.

I nodded and followed him back down the hallway. It was that moment when I realized how much taller he was than I. Looking straight ahead, my eyes seemed to level with the middle of his shoulder blades.

He was very big and manly, yet somehow came off as very gentle and childlike.

"Flea invite you?" River asked.

"Yeah." I said gawkily.

Soon, a man approached River with a joint in his hand. He took a final puff and handed it to River, who put it gently between his lips.

The smell was clear; pot. I felt relieved in a way, yet nervous in another.

For one, I wasn't aware River had ever tried a drug. At the same time, it was just pot.

He took a hit so simply it seemed as if he'd done it before, and soon he offered it to me.

I hesitated at first, but then accepted.

I had smoked on rare occasion, so I took a drag and handed it back to him.

He studied me as I did it; a light smile peeked through his lips.

He took one final hit and offered it to a nearby man, who graciously took it and walked away to a group of boys.

"That was cool." River said nonchalantly. Did he mean the smoking?

"How?" I asked him.

"I didn't know that side of you." He said.

"I don't really smoke," I started. "And I could say the same about you."

His smile faded at my last comment as he cocked his head towards the hall.

"We should go back," He told me.

I nodded and followed him back to the room where Flea sat on the ground, socializing with some men I hadn't noticed before. They must have arrived recently. He claimed the spot next to Flea and patted the ground beside him.

Happily, I accepted River's offer.

Once I'd sat down, he slung his arm lightly around my waist and pressed me closer to him, locking two of his fingers in one of the belt loops of my jeans.

No one seemed to notice, even River. His eyes stayed focused on Flea as his hand focused somewhere else.

I stayed quiet, and truthfully, I wasn't complaining.

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has anyone heard of the Mark Dice theory? it's basically a bunch of people claiming that River faked his death and now goes by Mark Dice. personally I think it's a lot of bs but i kinda wanna hear what everyone else thinks about it. also thank you for reading my story I'm keeping up really well with it :) the ending is amazing, i swear. its already planned😂