Raw Line| SVT

39

The parking lot looked familiar to me, but I couldn't figure out why. THE 8 steps out of the car and I follow suit, shivering at feeling of the cold wind hitting my skin again. He didn't want to tell me where we were headed to so I couldn't help but be curious.

After walking in silence for a few moments, we reach the grid door of a small shop. I try to look at the header, wondering what this shop might be about, but it was too dark to figure out anything.

"Isn't everything closed at this hour, though–"

I break off as soon as I hear the metallic sound of the lock and turn my head to look at the boy beside me. He was holding a key, gleaming in the dim light of the lamp post a few feet away from us. He opens the grid door, unlocking the one behind it as well in a matter of seconds.

I stare at him in shock as my brain slowly starts to connect the dots.

He turns to face me with a playful grin.

"Well, not everything," he speaks before entering the shop and gesturing me to follow.

It's his record shop.

He locks the door behind me, pulling down the blinds and leaving me dumbfounded at the entrance. He starts wondering around the shop, opening a small lamp on the counter on my left, plugging in something that looked like a CD player. I take the time to look around, wondering why he brought me here. There were dozens, maybe even hundreds of CDs, cassettes, vinyls and old records, all put in order carefully. The place was small, indeed, but it was decorated so nicely that it felt like the cozy record room of a passionate collector. A very rich one.

"Welcome to Genius Records," THE 8 speaks eventually, making me flinch.

He chuckles lightly and I sigh, unable to help a smile from forming on my lips. I watch him as he takes a CD from the pile on the counter and puts it in the player. He ruffles his hair as he presses some buttons, his eyes focused. The warm light of the lamp was making me feel at peace somehow and I could only guess that was his intention from the start.

Soft guitar strums echo in the shop and the boy turns his head to look at me. He gestures me to follow him and I find myself doing so, careful not to touch the fragile records on the shelves. THE 8 sits on the counter, patting the spot beside him and I climb on the table, letting out a deep breath and closing my eyes. The song was playing softly in the background, making me feel at ease somehow. This is pretty, I can't help but think.

The simple thought of sitting in the dim light in the middle of the night, with a soft but nice song playing in the background, in some small shop that nobody could really care about at this hour, this simple thought felt comforting. I was trying to focus on my breath and listen to the words of the song, trying to take in as much of the serenity of the moment as I could.

Get the fuck out of my car, Emma.

I open my eyes and sigh in defeat, leaning a bit forward. I knew it couldn't be this easy.

"This is one of the songs I usually listen to when I'm in a bad mood," I hear THE 8 saying beside me and I turn my head to look at him.

His eyes were closed, his black hair falling on the sides of his face. I couldn't help but admire his features, wondering why I never truly did that before. Despite being a top racer and an insanely talented biker, he has always been so calm and soothing towards me. Every one I got to meet in this world had a sharp side, an icy glare shot in between the lines, just... something that was giving away their true selves so easily. I knew that deep down, there was something wicked about him as well. That one night where I offered to drive because he was injured was the proof... but not even then, he wasn't... mischievous. Any emotion he'd have, he was filtering it in such manner that it would always come out so gentle towards the right people.