Exclusively: You and I

Peculiarly and spectacularly, we are alive. Breathe it and feel it with your entire being. The good and the bad. The sensation will soon escape your grasp like escaping sand…

~

He traces through his book, eyes often fluttering away and letting his thoughts drift before forcing his mind back on the novel. 

She rests her head on his lap scrolling aimlessly through her phone. The hard thumps of overhead feet, the muffled rain, the hum of the vents. “Hey.. do you ever wonder how great life will be when we leave this apartment?” he says, and she glances over to see a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah, it’ll be something.”

“I mean, I had no idea how hard university would be but when my dad finally lets me take over his company we’ll be at the top!” He shifts, leaving the couch and staring at the cloudy window where rain stained the glass.

“And you’ll bring me along with you right?” She grins. 

“You’re the only one I love, how could we ever part?” He says teasingly which she rolls her eyes at. 

Surprisingly he opens the window letting the winds flow in, and fresh, wet, air fills his lungs. When he turns back he sees watery tears falling from her face. Once he wipes his eyes, they’re gone and her cheeks are dry. He determines that the rain distorted his sight.

Gingerly, he sits on the couch’s arm thinking on his next words to make her inspired, to make him inspired. When she leaves every weekend, the dark emptiness of the wispy apartment sometimes becomes… Pressing his hands together, he stares at the concrete ground for a second.

‘No, nevermind.’

“Hey how’s art going?”, are the words he finally decides on. She groans, flipping over on her back and looking to the ceiling. 

“Stressful.” she mumbles. Closing her eyes she releases all of her pent-up tension. He nods quietly, a hint of envy playing around in his heart on how open she could be. She breaks him out of his trance with a question directed towards him.

“And how’s business management?” She ends with.

A newfound hesitation erupts as goosebumps on his arms which prevents him from answering immediately. He deliberated for a moment with his mind and body. They seemed to be fighting with him from saying his usual answer. 

“Amazing!” he finally answers with energy. 

A wave of disappointment slips over his body as his usual statement flies from his lips again.

“Oh? What do you like about it? I could never go into a profession that doesn’t include my paints.” She moves over. Her words touch his heart and he looks down with faltering eyes.

A single thought passes through his mind, ‘I’m tired.’ 

“Oh man, where can I start…!” He laughs instead, getting up and stretching his body. “The people, for once, are so smart. Highschool fools compare to nothing next to them.” She smiles softly at him, moving around talking about his passion.

“The work is also very gratifying. Whenever I hand in a paper, man, it’s just the best thing whenever it comes back. Sometimes with a note from the professor saying I did it perfectly.” Walking around, he picks up his textbook from under the table and shows her some of his good grades.

Her eyes glow warmly at his achievements. 

“And man, I can’t even get started on how-” 

“You sure say ‘man’ a lot.” She notes. He looks back at her.

“It’s like you’re trying to convince me that it’s like working at Six Flags.” she giggles putting a hand to her mouth. “Surely it gets boring sometimes, right?” Cold sweats run down his back. His mouth trembles at this opportunity.

‘I dread every morning I have to get up for class. My passion has whittled to nothingness.’

“Actually, I love it. I can’t imagine doing anything else.” He answers with a smile. Changing the subject, he throws the question back on her. “So what do you like about art?” 

She reaches kindly for him. He sits back down at her request, and she rests her head on his lap again. “I like how free I am when I draw. I can draw anything. Yeah, it gets annoying with deadlines and stuff, but knowing that I can take my hands and get them to draw everything that’s on my mind is…. liberating.” She breathes. 

As she rambled on, he became more enamored with how she talked. Pure love--like a kid who’s just been giving their first piece of paper and pencil. Choppy sentences and silly remarks, but beautifully real.

“So you like that feeling?” he sums it up, brushing her hair. “Being free, yeah.” she mutters. “Building a future with you is going to be interesting.” he chuckles. “I’ll be the serious business person, and you’ll be the person that counteracts that. My opposite.”

“Yeah.” she said simply. Getting up suddenly, she looks around the room. “Hey, do you still have that thing!” She says with excitement in her voice. “What thing?” he answers, with her contagious smile affecting him. 

She snaps her fingers wiping her face with her hand trying desperately to remember. 

“Yeah! Your guitar?” She says finally. He thinks back and then nods. “Then drop the book and find it!” She laughs, pushing his back up from the couch.

“Okay, okay.” He says with his hands up, digging through an unpacked suitcase where everything fun in his life was hidden. Overwhelmed by studying and papers, he had forgotten it existed.

He took out the sleek guitar case and took out the instrument. It was still cool in his hands, it felt necessary to take a moment to admire it and let nostalgic memories flood back into his mind. “You said your friend lives on a higher level in this complex right? Let’s leave this basement and go visit.” She insisted vibrantly. 

“He’s out, but I have his key. I guess I could-” “Yes! Let’s do it.” He couldn’t help but grin at her. 

Within the moment, they were gone.

Like children, laughing they made their way up the stairs, rising and rising, until they made it to the floor. Taking the keys from his pocket, he opens his friend’s door. She holds his guitar kindly as they walk past the clean room to the balcony. 

He tried not to focus on how in order his friend’s place was when he struggled with his room daily. Her face broke down all of those feelings of inadequacy as they unlatched the glass balcony door.

‘Whenever you leave I feel so alone..’ his thoughts whisper, as they stand in the rain and look down and the rushing people and flashing cars.

Sitting on near the ledge, they feel water soak their pants.

“Play me something.” She mumbles.

Looking at the guitar he tunes it for a moment, before wondering what to play. 16-year old him would’ve known the exact chords to make this moment magical.

23-year old him was lost.

He lets his fingers gently strum the strings with half-closed eyes. His hands remember, so he lets them take rein. Gentle music fills their bubble. She rests her hands on her legs, listening.

He replays the only chords he remembers, smiling at the person he used to be. She was his only memento of time before university. His only love. 

“This music is wonderful.” she says. Her expressions, her words, her thoughts. He’d bear everything on his back, if it meant her could stay with her.

Her eyes lock with his, and he offers a small smile. She doesn’t return it, only gives him a pained look.

“Hey… can we break up?” she whispers.