"Oh I should stop asking you to keep playing. I'm so sorry-"
"Don't be silly, I like playing for you." I like having you give me all your attention for a moment.
My fingers weren't exactly getting sore, they were too calloused to feel anything from the strings anymore. They were getting quite stiff though. My back was beginning to hurt. I had gone off a tangent and sung plenty of songs to you that evening. You sang along to a few, and my heart had swelled in unimaginable ways.
How could it be that simply hearing you sing along with me seemed to make me forget how to breathe and make my chest hurt with all the adoration that had overflowed in it.
Your voice had been sweeter than whatever donuts you were obsessed with, so sweet, so delicate. I could have taken a bite and died a happy girl.
"No, you don't be silly. That's enough playing for a night. Perhaps next time I'll sculpt you something." you had leaned back.
I had an itching feeling you were going to call it a night, very soon.
So on an impulse I had blurted out, "You want me to teach you?"
your eyebrows had raised, your interest in what I had just said unmistakably written across your features.
"Teach me?" your head tilted to the side, and I had actually pressed a hand over my chest to calm my heart down. It was hammering away far too loudly. The blood rushing far too fast, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to survive the night.
"Yea," I had cleared my throat, trying to smooth out my voice a bit. Trying to sound like my body wasn't reacting to this situation like it was life or death.
"Guitar. I'll teach you. For a bit. What do you say?"
"You would do that?"
"Of course I would." I found it so silly that you still hesitated when you asked things from me. After the months we had spent together by then, this should have been nothing. I wish you would realise my body would move first to answer your demands before my mind could even form a coherent thought.
That was how at your mercy all of me was.
Still is.
Which is why this story is being written in the first place. A cowardly attempt at doing what I do best. Running away. Because if you had told me a single word, I would surrender all my fear at your feet and follow you around for the rest of my life.
Despite knowing what I was doing was wrong.
Despite knowing you deserve so much better.
I suppose you wouldn't even dream of asking me to stay once you know the entire story.
"How do I," you had frowned, sitting up. "How do we do this?"
"Do you mind if I'm a little," don't sound like a creep, you aren't going to make her uncomfortable, don't be weird about it.
"A little close to you?"
I had physically cringed from saying that to you which had made me frantically backtrack on my words before you had interrupted me. Giggling like I was stupid for even asking you that.
"Not at all."
I suppose I was relieved you trusted me enough to find my question ridiculous.
So when you had gotten up and made your way to me. Grabbing the hand that I had reached out to guide you to me, and finally settling between my legs. I had made sure not to crowd you. I had made sure to squeeze one of the pillows off your couch between us. It made it slightly uncomfortable for me, making me hunch over to reach the guitar that now rested in your lap to reach where your fingers press the strings.
But you had seemed excited. Like a child, learning a new word. your eyes, holding the most beautiful parts of the galaxy together, glittered with this new found excitement. Your cheeks had darker streaks of pink than usual.
I had put my hand above yours, and gently guided it down all the frets, the strings. Telling you that this was where we would be making music, and you humming. So close to me now, my heart flipped every time you made a sound.
We were so close I could hear you breathe.
I was certain my heart wouldn't be able to survive this.
"Now we'll start by playing some basic chords ok?" you had hummed again.
Very gently I pressed each of your fingers into the right stings at the right places to strum out a C-chord.
You flinched and I had immediately pulled back, "Sorry it hurts a bit, I forget to mention that to you. My fingers are so callous I barely feel anything anymore-"
"Show." you had said putting your hand out, your voice dripping with curiosity.
I had bundled up what was left of the last of my nerves and placed my hand in your open palm. You had grabbed my hand with both of yours and felt it. Pressing and proding, till you found my fingers and its rough tips.
"You really don't feel anything?"
I'm feeling a bit much right now, like too much.
"Nope. it's all calloused." I had said pulling my hand out of your grasp for the sake of my weak, weak heart that seemed to be thumping so loud, I was afraid you would hear it.
"Dont put your hand on something so rough angel." I had said, and you had giggled again like I had said something absurd, something you couldn't wrap your head around.
"Your hands feel fine though? I didn't think they were rough at all. I think your hands are perfect, music girl."
I had to lean back for a moment to get my bearings before I told you I would press into the chords. That you could simply sturm.
Your first strum had accidentally used too much force, making you jump slightly at the loud sound. It was because you had jumped, that I had reflexively tightened my arms around you. I hadn't meant to startle you or take advantage of that situation to do that.
I promise.
I had immediately let go, laughing a little, telling you you had to be gentle.
You apologized and tried again, slower this time.
You had learnt how to strum a basic pattern for the C-chord by the end of an hour.
My fingers felt warm from pressing into the strings, my face felt warm from being so close to you.
You got up excitedly by the end of our session. Told me you had something to give me. Told me you had been waiting for a while to give me this, and from off down the hallway that led you to your rooms.
You had brought out a handful of candy. Wrapped in colourful wraps.
"Open one." you had said, trying to mask your excitement that you were practically bursting with. I had chuckled and grabbed the purple candy to unwrap it.
It glittered in my hand, like a piece of the night sky was in my hand.
You had begged me to taste it, telling me it wasn't painfully sweet. Promising it was worth it.
And you had been right.
It sort of crackled against my tongue. It wasn't too sweet. Or too anything. In fact, it was a really new taste. I had never had anything like this before.
"Do you like it?"
Do I like it?
Without really thinking much I had said, "It looks like your eyes, the candy."
A burst of laughter, squeezing my heart of all its love. I huffed out a breath and had been glad I was sitting. I'm pretty sure my knees would have gone weak had I been the one standing.
I had been looking up at you standing before me then. While laughing you had said, "They're actually called 'sparkles'. Weird name I know." you had wiped a tear out of your eyes, your hair falling over your shoulder. I hugged the pillow on your couch to keep me from brushing my fingers through the white strands. "I got it from my dad's hometown. There's this candy shop that makes their own candy every morning. And this specific candy," you sat down next to me.
Our elbows had been touching the entire time, but you seemed oblivious to me attempting to shift away slightly cause I couldn't quite take anymore that night.
Any more close proximity and I was sure either my brain would shortcircuit or my heart would jump out of my chest.
I found myself quite pathetic then too, honestly.
"It was my definition of a night sky. Dad always said it looked like the candy maker hand picked out stars from the sky and sprinkled them into the mix. That's why it glittered. Like the night sky."
You had closed your eyes, a sweet smile on your lips, "I always called it 'candy made by stars' when I was younger. I guess I still do." you had confessed, trying to laugh away your embarrassment.
I had lost a little control then. Forgotten not to reach out towards you too much. Forgotten to keep that safe distance from you as I had the entire time we had known each other.
I had reached out my hand, turning your face to mine, and brushed the white strand on your face away. Tucking them slowly behind your ear, noticing how flushed your cheeks were, how wide your eyes were.
Lord, your eyes.
"Your eyes look the candy," I had repeated stupidly, so awfully close to you I had felt your huff of laughter at my words on my face, "like candy made by stars."
I plan to gaze at the night sky everyday, my angel. After I leave I will look for the pattern of stars I found in your eyes in the sky, and miss you. I will look at the moon some nights, and pray you are well.
I hope you drop this ridiculous book by now.
I hope it is boring enough for you to drop it before you finish it. To be honest I am still very afraid, even as I write this, of you finding out what happened. Especially since I found out that night, the night you shared some of that candy, the night I realised I loved you after all, that you had been a part of my life long before I knew of you.
That you knew a piece of my past.
A piece a little too close to home.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.