LOOK HERE ! THE HELPLESS LAD — mourn his indecision. his inclination to fumble , ANXIETY but the leader of his downward spiral. as if the curse of ALMIGHTY ICARUS soaked to diffuse the iron within his blood ; leaving him desolute to the harmful plague that clouded judgment — a wrong move but the chance of damnation — WICKEDLY SO
TELL HIM WHERE TO GO ? he waits , as if being tested ; figuring to rise off an accord not of his own ( nothing ) reluctance hinged on tired bones , steady ahead does he harboring his monumental struggle with eyes casted aside. the TREACHERY of ailing steps ; of looking between the three options ; WHAT IF HE CHOOSES WRONG? will THIS be the catalyst to failure ; the decision that leads to BANDERSNATCH’S end.
it is with dutiful remembrance to colin’s WATCHFUL GAZE he stumbles out an unintelligible ’ — uhm ’ filler for the silence that populates the atmsophere. hazel flickering , chancing a glance to meet colin before his hand glides over. thoughtless introspection as he places it over the PINK FLOYD album ( but was it HIS CHOICE ? ) — “ dark side of the moon… ” spoken with tilted curiosity. for perhaps the prism was his brain ; fused with choices only refracted by an unknown benefactor , leaving him with nothing but the spectrum of colours as his aftermath.
a brow quirks amidst his otherwise stoic expression, and colin’s hand hovers over the boy’s shoulder tentatively as he struggles to choose between the suggested records. when stefan finally reaches a decision, colin pats him in an almost exaltive manner, commending his sagacious intuition. ❛ brilliant. knew you had it in you, ❜ he says in a strangely monotonous earnest, offering a nod towards the chair to indicate that he wishes for the boy to take a seat once again. stefan is absolutely the refracted white light.
carefully he parts the sleeve, taking care not to damage the precious vinyl. he then places it upon the record player, setting the tip of the needle, and the heart begins beating, cash registers clanging, maniacal laughter resounding. colin places the case on the table before he takes a seat as well, his mind flowing with the melody, thoughts becoming one with those of waters and his bandmates. he’s indulged in this album countless times ( he can recite it forward and back ), sometimes with acid, sometimes with a lover, a memory, or nothing but a joint for company, but always with his own enlightenment. this time he has a colleague -- a mentee, of sorts, and he knows stefan is ready for this.
in syncopation with the music, he taps his index finger against the velvet armrest. he allows his eyes to slide shut and begins bobbing his head ever slightly as pink floyd engulfs his consciousness with existentialist ideals and beautifully catastrophic meaning. he knows that stefan will need it spoonfed to him, but colin doesn’t mind in the very least. in fact, he’s happy to do so -- looking forward to it, even. however, they require a medium for communication, or rather, stefan does to widen his understanding. he’s a simple boy who thinks in black and white. perhaps colin is the triangular figure necessary to widen the spectrum of color that could be stefan’s existence. he clears his throat to catch stefan’s attention, extending the joint in his other hand. ❛ go on, ❜ he beckons, ❛ might as well practice, right ? ❜
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