Chapter 12.

Day of Show by Skullcrusher

'Studio today, sorry love', I read from my phone in my head. I had worked all day and was becoming much too accustomed to not being alone. I took a deep breath.

The sun had already set. But the skies were clear enough to see the stars tonight. That sounded wonderful until I actually sat down on my balcony to look at them.

They reminded me of him and that idea nearly would have disgusted me if it weren't... him.

I hated looking at them alone. Yet I was drawn to them. I could pick out Jupiter and Saturn, two of the brightest in the sky. They were right next to each other, when in reality they were years and years away. Stars were always my favorite until I was alone under them. That is an entirely different feeling.

I turned on my music to fill the extra silence, and it was partially comforting. Until it was a song I couldn't even handle listening to. I turned it off quickly. I hardly felt like the old me, who took pride in the ability to be lonely, excusing it as independence although it was so unhealthy. And I had no idea if that was good or really, really bad.

I used to want to be alone. I'd grown used to these nights where I gazed alone. I was alone, for years just alone. And it was definitely my own fault. I grew up with no one but my mum and Anna. And I wrote cheesy poetry until I taught myself not to. And I convinced myself that I was in love to fix myself. I had no idea how wrong that was then.

I grew up taking every burden upon myself, blaming myself for everything the universe gifted me. The only thing my mum wanted me to truly know was that it was not my fault. And I spent my rebellious teen years not believing her.

I'd been taught to stay grounded by my mum, but I was letting it restrict me from growing. And changing. I grabbed my phone and her guitar from inside, and sat back down. "Hi, mum." I let a small smile peek from my lips but my eyes still felt heavy.

When I heard her voice, my tears fell silently streaking my cheeks. I despised myself for continuing to do it, this thing where I tried to stay strong for other people's sake. The problem with my mind is that I knew when something I did was wrong but I couldn't convince myself to open up to anyone about it. It was for them, not for me. My mom needed me to be stronger.

"I just wanted to call you, and say that" I sniffled a little bit, "Tell you that I, uh, miss you. A lot." "I miss you too, Darbs. What's wrong?" She said in her usual comforting tone. I laughed a little bit, wiping my eyes. She knew.

"Nothing is wrong, mum." I steadied my breath, deciding to tell her everything. "A lot has happened."

...

"Do you love him, Darbs. It's more simple than it sounds." After I spilled the whole story she jumped straight to the question and it sent a pang of fear through me. "Mum, no- I-" I stood up and leaned over the balcony, watching the people and the lights below me. There was even music playing a distance away. I laughed at my own self pity, letting my free hand rise and fall abruptly hitting my leg. I let out a deep sigh, "I'm too nervous. I'm terrified that we're taking it way too fast, but... too slow. At the same time. And I didn't come here to love a person, I came to love a city and to write about it." My expression dimmed quite quickly.

"Well it doesn't matter what you planned, what matters is that you're taking what you've been given... and you're loving that. Look Darby, I know you don't want to and you don't like hearing it but you have no reason not to love this boy with everything that you are. If you want to, of course. If he breaks your heart, then, well, you will have gained more experience. You went looking for experience, as are we all in life."

"I know." I said, millions of answers crowded into my head but of course 'I know' was the only thing to come out.

"You have the most capacity to love another of any person I know, Sunshine." She sounded so certain. I nodded, although she wouldn't have known that.

"Bye, I love you mum. Thank you." I said softly before hanging up.

I picked up the guitar I had no idea how to play. And I figured things out.

The Bottom of It by Fruit Bats

"I'd love to." I said over the phone to Harry. A smile grazed my lips and I let it this time. A couple minutes later he was at my front door. I wore a tan collared shirt, some brown flared pants, nothing too fancy but I felt like me in it. It was probably around 11p.m., a little late to go out but he insisted and I genuinely wanted to. He invited me to the studio, actually. I didn't have to wonder why, that no longer mattered to me. He handed me another little picked flower.

The drive was calming and sweet. I laid my head on my arm that hung out the window. Harry played soft music and his sweet hums took over my thoughts. I took multiple deep breaths because I knew I wouldn't feel as peaceful as this for long enough.

"What did you do today?" He asked me. "I worked for awhile, I went home and I called my mum. I tried to play guitar," I laughed at myself. "Oh? And how did that go?" He joined in with a soft smile. "Not so good," I shook my head, looking at him as I crinkled up my eyes.

"I guess I need a better teacher than myself." I turned away from the window and shifted towards him, focusing every bit of attention to his features.

"Well I wrote a song, believe it or not. Or at least the idea of it. Not done yet." He said, taking a left turn to who knows where. "Why would I not believe you, you're a genius when it comes to songwriting." He blushed. "Tell me about it." I asked casually, my eyes took little notice of where we were going.

"I'm afraid that is something I cannot do just yet."

"Harry do you even know where you're going?" I asked, slightly confused. "Uhh, of course I do. I know everything."

"You said the studio was near the art museum, right?" "That it is. But I decided not to go back tonight." He broke a smile that definitely told me something.

...

"This is your house, Harry." I said blatantly as he simply nodded. We were once again pulling up at the familiar cottage he called his temporary home and I never once was not taken aback by its simple beauty. Most of it was hidden in the nighttime darkness, but it was still so pretty. If not, prettier. I think he loved it too. "We put up lights in the backyard." He cheesed.

"Is that what you wanted to show me?" I asked, he pulled my hand and ran right through the middle of the house, whizzing past Sarah in the kitchen, straight to the back yard. I tried to wave but Harry kept running and I was a mess of laughter.

"It's not exactly why I wanted you here but... it's one reason." He turned them on, they were the basic pinterest lights that you see in every picturesque italian house. They lit everything up of course, and beautifully so. He guestered a little 'ta da!' with his arms.

"It's so pretty... I hate to break this to you but you should probably turn them back off." I walked past him to stand out in the middle of the yard. My eyes found a million little stars in the sky, and this time, though it was the exact same sky, they were the most lovely thing I had set my eyes upon. Maybe. But maybe not. "Of course."

I laughed at him and he joined me after turning the lights off. He stood there behind me, with his arms hanging over my shoulders. I'll remember that, I don't care what opposition my mind makes in some future situation.

Je Te Laisserai Des Mots by Patrick Watson

"You aren't even looking at them." I whispered, turning to look over my shoulder. He was messing with my hair, twirling it around and such.

The minute his glance changed from my hair to my eyes, he lifted a finger to my chin, guiding it to face him. "When is your birthday?" He said ever so softly. I turned and placed my own arms around his neck, something about that felt very surreal. It was alluring and entrancing and grand in the way that you feel so uniquely small when watching the sky at night. "It's September 12th. 1994." I answered. "February 1st," He replied, "Also 1994." "Ohoho!" I chuckled, dropping my head from his gaze.

"Favorite color." He asked quietly, as if he needed to know every minor thing about me before kissing me, though he had already before. "Ha! Trick question. I don't have one." I refuted. "Well, I don't either, so there's another trick question. Mine is the whole rainbow." He said, his eyes glazing over. I ran my hand over the hair on the back of his head, it was soft as was his little smile as he began to sway back in forth.

"Hmm," "Favorite book." I asked him before he had the chance. His face was drifting closer to mine. "The Course of Love, uh, Alain de Botton." He did a wonderful french accent, it sent a tiny shock through my nerves.

"My first instinct is to say Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen," His hand found my jaw once more, and I smiled at even just that. He held my face ever so gently, like I was much more delicate and important that I believed I was.

"But now that I am thinking about it I might change my answer." I was whispering at this point too. Fearing that talking too loudly, too harshly would shatter some type of delicate emotion that was building up. "Oh, really?"

I nodded my head slightly.

"I think now it's Felicity by Mary Oliver. Poems."

"And why is that?" He asked, much closer than before, where the space between us was already lacking. I could hardly breathe, but every bit of my soul was experiencing it for the first time. Breathing. How odd is it that I have been existing off of false breath for all of these years.

"Because I can finally understand it."

I'd never felt so wanted as I did then. He softly pulled me closer like I was his only thought. Though I wasn't completely sure, I knew it would take much too long to decipher. I wasn't sure if that was just him, someone who knew how to make people feel loved, whether it was falsely accused or not. Or if it was me. But right then I felt he cared more than I had originally thought.

He pulled away to look at me, but it was much too dark outside for me to see him as I wanted with only the indoor lights carrying their minimal light outside.

There were words that could have filled the silence, though they chose not to. It was alright without them. I placed both of my hands on his cheeks and smiled, fluffing up his hair and forcing myself to run back inside. He chased me in, and I don't think I've ever felt night air like that night's, more crisp or ever so divinely inspired.

Everything that was broken has

forgotten its brokenness. I live

now in a sky-house, through every

window the sun. Also your presence.

Our touching, our stories. Earthy

and holy both. How can this be, but

it is. Every day has something in

it whose name is Forever.

Not anyone who says, "I'm going to be

careful and smart in matters of love,"

who says, "I'm going to choose slowly,"

but only those lovers who didn't choose at all

but were, as it were, chosen

by something invisible and powerful and uncontrollable

and beautiful and possibly even

unsuitable-

only those know what I'm talking about

in this talking about love.

There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.

Like, telling someone you love them.

Or giving your money away, all of it.

Your heart is beating, isn't it?

You're not in chains, are you?

There is nothing more pathetic than caution

when headlong might save a life,

even, possibly, your own.