To be continued. .?

His fingers were long and flexible and tanned, just like the rest of him, and they looked completely at home as they danced eleganty up and bown the wooden fret board. She watched him sittin cross-legged on the floor infront of her, his head down and his eyes fixed on the strings. Concentrating? Contemplating? And if so, what? Music? His future? His girlfriend? His favourite soft drink? Though she allready knew it was Sprite. The sugar free stuff.
But no, she had no idea what was going his mind at that moment, but somehow she knew it was something far more intense than what he was going to have for dinner that night. She wanted to ask. She wanted to hear it all, every fleeting thought, every unspoken comment.
There was a time not so long ago when she couldve just casually asked " Whatya thinkin Ryan?" And he would reply with a cheeky smile " Oh well wouldnt you like to know?" And then proceed to tell her every fleeting thought and every unspoken comment. But things were different back then.
She thought now of those days, when her father was still around and his mother was alive. When he wasnt going out with whats- her – face. When hanging out was an arrangment every weekend and all weekend, filled with talking and laughing and rambling and wathing arty DVDS and downloadin the hottest new tunes off the net and drinking lots of tea.
But now, now they would show up unexpectadely at eachothers doorstep and come in without speaking, and theyd come to do juat that; not speak. Occasionaly he would bring over a DVD that his girlfriend refused to watch because it wasnt a chick flick, but they rarely got around to watching it. They seemed to loose all concept of time, not that i mattered, neither of their parents now gave a damn how long either of them were gone. Tonight was a typical night, her mum was out with one of her new boyfriends and his dad was at home, probably extremely drunk by now, he rarely hung around long enough to see.
She observed him now, his tieless school shirt hung loosely on his slender body and his hair looked almost black in her small poorly lit living room that seemed to grow darker with every second of their silence subdueing the flickering flames into glowing embers. There was this one stubborn strand that kept falling accross his forehead and forcing his hand to leave its beloved fret board to brush it back. And it was then that she always noticed the latest ugly bruise and she wondered if this one was " just another hardcore basketball injury". She wouldve given anything to ask. Just like she wouldve given anything to be that guitar in his hand if it meant being held by him.
“Do you recognise this?” Finally he spoke. His voice was rough and sounded like he needed to clear his throat. She searched her brain for an answer because she figured the truthful one in this case was not the right one. But then the notes caught her hear and she actually listened to whaqt he was playing. Suddenly memories came rushing into her minds eye. Mundane memories of every time she sat on her bedroom floor and cried, cold and lonely and missing her dad.She more than recognised it, it was her sad song, The song she put on when she felt just that, sad, and just wanted to cry .
“Yeah some Damien Rice song right?”
, Ofcourse she knew she was right. Just like she knew the name of the song , along with the aqlbum it was from and the length; the same lenght of time she allowed herself to sit and cry.d began to
He nodded and began to strum something else. She was glad, as her eyes felt tender and susceptible to tears.
She wanted to hear him speak again.
“I have his album somewher at home” She didnt bother listening to her own words , instead she listened longinly for his response and wondered how it was right tht any guy should have such beautiful eyes. Like a waterfall of emeralds that she just wanted to drown in.
“Oh yeah? Whats it like?” he asked with a genine tone of semi interest.
“Its actually really good. Very. . raw.” She felt a little proud that she sounded like she knew stuff about music. “Is one of those albums with a motif, like a running theme all the way through it. About this girl he can never have because shes too young.”
" Man, that must suck."
“No, no it works quite well actually.”
He gave a slight smile and she felt that melting sensation inside for the hundreth time that night.
“I meant not being able to have a girl because shes too young.”
“Oh. Yeah well that too”
She felt her cheeks go a little shde of red and she returned the slight smile. And then it happened. She didnt know what ‘it’ was, but she knew it happened, and it happened the split second their eyes met and locked, so gently yet so firmly and without escape. Time froze and then melted and neither of them spoke, but a different kind of not speaking now. She did notice the guitar slipping from his hands and being placed on the dusty floorboards. All she could see was his tanned face, his perfect eyes coming closer to hers. She felt his hand on hers, still warm from being wrapped around the guitar neckso long. She felt his fingers delicately resting against her cheek. She felt the coolness of the space between their almost touching lips. She felt the smile that only reached his perfect eyes. Then she felt his words, pronounced in a whisper.
“Thank you”

To be continued. .?

EdelPankhurst

Co. Cork, Ireland

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Artist's Description

I hope someone likes this. . took me like an hour to type. . im a realllly slow typer!

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fiction

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