Too High

Published: October 3, 2024 — written 5 months and 3 weeks ago.

“This stuff is good!” Aaron mumbled with his eyes closed. He was lying on his friend’s couch, barely feeling his arms. “It’s almost like I’m … flying… “ He felt his shoulders feeling light and relaxed until he suddenly heard Connor cough and wheeze, then how he scrambled to his feet, sitting up on his bed. His voice was shrieky and filled with disbelief. “Dude!… You fucking are!”

Aaron scrunched his face to peer through his eyes and could barely make out the ceiling, visible through a grey round hole in the darkness in front of him. He shook himself, and then felt himself drop back onto the couch, making the springs creak underneath him. “What the fuck was that?” he mumbled, fighting against his stoned body to sit up. He found his friend staring at him, with his eyes wide open. “Dude…” he heard him say, then watched how his face turned into a grin, followed by a silent giggle that didn’t seem to stop as he fell backwards onto his bed again.

Uneasy, he looked around the room. A poster of a clown hung above his friend, the face a mix of a skull, a child, and a panda looking down on them, holding a distortedly painted guitar. And it all was framed with more skulls and deranged monsters. For a second he doubted if getting high at his friend’s had been the best idea. But then he remembered why he was suddenly worried and spun around.

“Flying?” he barely whispered to himself. At least his vision started to slowly normalise and as quickly as his drugged state allowed he started probing the surface of the couch. Everything felt normal, the grey material was worn out and dusty. He lifted the cushions one by one, trying to see if anything had been installed underneath, anything to trick him. He stuck his hand into the crease and worked it along the back rest, but only found decades of crumbs and a shrivelled fry. Connor’s laugh made him turn around.

“What are you fingering the couch for?”

Aaron shrugged, as he pulled his left hand back out again. “Nothing,… just weird, I guess.”

He closed his eyes to avoid the smirk looking back at him, both the one of the clown and the one on his friend’s face. Remembering the sensation of falling back onto the couch sent a shiver down his spine. He looked at the two cut-up plastic bottles standing on the small, square Lack table between them. Questions ran through his head as his eyelids began to feel heavy again, barely being able to open them. He gripped the edge of the couch and then relaxed, letting himself fall back into the couch. He allowed his arms to slump down and began moving his fingers in alternating patterns, tracing his steps in his head as to what he had done before it had happened.

“Lifting index and ring finger,” he mumbled, “and then the others…” And then he remembered how he had alternated the pattern between both hands. At first, he messed up the tapping movements, with his fingers sticking out and trembling, but soon he found the right rhythm. And as he relaxed into the tapping, he felt light, a glowing feeling that worked down from his arms, then to his knees. He thought of lifting his feet but then noticed how he had no ground under them. Wiggling his toes in his socks, he tried to feel for the scruffy red carpet. Nothing. He opened his eyes to find his friend holding his phone at him, his mouth and eyes wide open.

“Duuuude….” Connor whispered, “how the fuck are you doing this?” But instead of replying, Aaron panicked. He tensed his arms and immediately felt gravity pulling at his stomach, feeling as if he had spent the last seconds at the highest point of a swing, and it was now pulling him back. With a thud, he came crashing down into the couch. The sound of something breaking underneath him cracked through the room. Connor laughed hysterically. “I told you! … Fuck! I got this! I fucking got this on video!”

He shook the phone in his hand with excitement. Then, wearily, he stood up and carefully stepped around the small table, not to knock over the improvised bong filled with water. Sitting down next to Aaron, he tapped the screen and started the video. And as he watched himself relax and begin to hover and rise above the couch, it sent the same dreadful shiver back down his spine again. But this time it lingered, and was joined by a cold sweat all over his body. His pulse began thumping in his ears.

“Let me see again!” he whispered, holding his hand out.

With trembling fingers, he watched the video again and again, how he had been hovering almost two feet above the couch. And unlike his friend, he did not share his excitement. Aaron got up with fear. He swiped back into the gallery and deleted the video, then with relief, he watched his muscle memory kick in as he scrolled down to the deleted folder, only to find it locked. He opened it, held the phone briefly at his friend’s puzzled face looking up at him.

“Hey!!!” he screamed, flinging out his arms, trying to get his phone back, but Aaron used his foot to push him back into the couch. With Connor out of reach of his phone, he felt him connect his fists with his thigh instead, repeatedly punching him as he selected the video and then confirmed the option to delete it from all devices.

He watched the preview icon disappear from the screen just as he was knocked over backwards onto the small table. The plastic bottles crunched underneath him, drenching his hoodie as he rolled off sideways, and then onto his knees, stumbling away. He turned around to see Connor ignore the mess as he was swiping frantically across his phone. And as he realised the video was gone, he flung the phone into the corner of the room, crashing into a Minecraft Lego set. He sounded angry, his eyes staring at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Why did you delete it?”