saturday, january tenth, two thousand fifteenth

• • •

"belle-"
her mother tried to say,
but she didn't want
to get up.
"you're going to be late."

• • •

she rolled over,
blocking out her
mother's petite figure,
trying to shake the
concerned look on
her mom's face
out of her head.

• • •

"you were so happy,"
her mother whispered brokenly.
"what happened?"

• • •

"a trigger."
she explained,
her voice thick with sleep.
all she did was
sleep nowadays.
at least when her eyes were shut,
she didn't think.

• • •

her mother was silent
before her hands shook
her daughter gently.
"please. just go today.
maybe it will help.
music always helps."

the girl closed her eyes,
a pain in her head.
"that's the thing mom,
music's the trigger."

• • •

it took coaxing
in the form of
pleading and
guilt-tripping
to make her go
to the school of rock.

• • •

she sat in the passenger's seat,
staring out into the alleyway
that held the entrance
to her former haven,
now her prison.
she was an hour late.

• • •

when she finally
pushed open the doors
to the school,
her guitar limp in one hand,
she felt like she was
dragging herself.

• • •

"good morni-"
judy started to say,
but was stopped
by the disheveled appearance
and the bleary eyes,
and the bags underneath,
and the bandages barely
peeking out from
under her long sleeved shirt.

• • •

without another word,
she pushed past the doors,
took the stairs,
and she was in hell.

• • •

"you're late,"
derek reprimanded,
stopping the rehearsal.
everyone's eyes were on her.
she felt even worse than before.
she fought the urge
to walk back downstairs,
and never return.

• • •

her show manager
beckoned her over.
she slowly made her way,
passing by him as she did,
which made her
quicken her pace instead.

• • •

derek had to tilt his head down,
in order to meet her gaze.
he said, "because you weren't
here last week--"
she winced.
"you don't know about
the new changes."

"new changes?"

"due to family complications,
mikayla won't be able to do
you got a friend with you."

• • •

she held her breath.
that was the only song
in which she had
a guitar duet,
with just one another person.
where she got
to immerse herself
slowly in the music.
where her talents could shine.

• • •

"and so I picked se-"
she almost dropped
her guitar case.

• • •

"is there a problem?"
derek asked.

but she knew the answer
was never yes,
because it always
had to be no.

• • •

she shook her head,
and derek beckoned
the boy that had
invaded her thoughts
for the past two weeks
over to where she stood.

• • •

he was just as cautious as she,
and he would not meet her gaze.
she noticed how his hands
were trembling slightly
because hers
always seemed to do the same.

• • •

"into the mystic in the front,
you got a friend in the back."

the two of them
cast their guitars upon
their shaky hands,
and made their way into
the back room,
where it was just
him and her,
and only the music
could drown out their silence.

• • •

he already unpacked his Taylor
and had it in his lap.
he sat crosslegged on the floor,
plucking the strings lightly.

• • •

instead of taking the seat
in front or beside him,
she chose the back corner
where she was as far from him
as possible.

• • •

taking out her guitar,
she placed it upon
her lap as well,
and tuned the strings
as slowly as possible.

• • •

and without a word,
she began to play
the song that she
had practiced the most,
because it made her feel
talented,
hopeful,
and like she belonged.

• • •

and she didn't expect it,
but the sound of a second guitar
filtered through the finger picking,
providing a chromatic scale
upwards to match the somber
undertone of her melody.

• • •

and for a moment
she forgot about the pain
of not only his past rejection,
but the pain of her thoughts,
telling her she was
never good enough,
because in that moment,
she felt good enough.
not for derek.
not for him.
but herself.

• • •

the song flowed to a stop,
fading into the static
of the other group's song
in the front room.

• • •

the awkwardness returned.
it was slow and steady,
creeping up on both
of their musically high hearts,
like a phantom lurking
in the dark.

• • •

he coughed.
she ignored him.
how good it felt
to return his actions back.

• • •

and after another
long silence,
he moved.

• • •

he put his guitar down
on the floor,
something she had
never witnessed before,
because his guitar
was like his child,
and he made his way
over to where she sat.

she shrunk back,
holding her fender closer.

• • •

he took a deep breath,
and then spoke.
and his voice was
akin to silk,
and it made her heart ache.

"I'm sorry."
"everyone says that."
"I'm not-- I can't--"
he couldn't find the words;
he was never good with them,
but this girl made him
feel even more tongue-tied
than usual.

• • •

she kept her eyes level to the ground,
the cold wood of her acoustic
bleeding into the thin fabric
of her sweater.

• • •

"I'm not a person
just anyone can love,"
he whispered.
"I have to leave
before they can hurt me,
before I can hurt them."

• • •

"I knew that as soon
as you came out of nowhere,
that we would--
I would be interested.

you were different.
you were... you were like me.
I was scared.
I tried not to think anything of it.
that I only felt admiration.
but I--"
he paused.
"you can't love someone
who's broken."

• • •

and then she said something,
that no one had ever said
to him before.
"but I already have."

• • •

she blew out a sigh;
never one to stay angry
for long periods of time,
it ebbed away after a day or two,
until it was nothing short of regret.

"we're all broken, seth,
some more than others.
I've spent the last couple
of years trying to piece myself
back together."

• • •

"that's why I came here.
because the only thing
that keep me sane was--"

"music."
the both said
at the same time.

• • •

they were quiet again.
but this time,
her gaze met his steadily,
still hesitant,
but willing to take a risk.

• • •

"I'm sorry,"
he said.
she reached out
in a moment
of bravery,
and clasped his hand
in her own.

• • •

she offered
that small half-smile,
that crescent shape 
of her lips
that drove him crazy
and said,
"i forgive you."

• • •

and the weight
seemed to slip off 
his shoulders.

• • •

once their alotted
practice time was up,
the two of them
packed up their guitars,
and made their way to the 
front room,
where a single,
worn-out, rusty couch
sat solitary in the front.

• • •

he sat on the left,
while she sat on the right,
the gap in the middle 
nonexistent.
the gap in their fears
relinquished.
it was just the music.

it was just him and her.

• • •

I think there's about two more chapters left, I think? I'll have to double check. I'm really sad that this story is coming to an end. It's been my darling and my motivation for writing. I literally teared up writing this chapter. I'd really love to hear your thoughts. How about their names now that you know them? c: This is also going to be the longest chapter, yep. Hope you enjoyed it!!

As always, comment, vote, promote! I love you all!

-Isa