Infatuated (hsau)

chapter 13.

°°
We made pretend, we were best friends
Then she said, "Oh, you're a freak"
They ordered me to make mistakes
Together again, like the beginning
It all works somehow in the end
The things we did, the things you hide
But for the record, it's between you and I
°°

Harlow Dean

I never slept a wink last night, I couldn't. I tried and I failed, I tossed and I turned, I read and I listened to music, I lay on my side and on my back yet I couldn't drift off into that much needed slumber.

Maybe it was the anxiety of having Harry next door, maybe it was the gut wrenching cramps that sprung out of nowhere but either way, not one minute of sleep was achieved.

It's 10AM and I'm sat at my table with a cup of coffee, wearing some pyjama shorts and an old Rolling Stones T-shirt whilst Harry's upstairs in the spare room. What I'm supposed to do I don't know...Do I waken him? Do I just wait? Does he want to shower? Does he eat in the morning? Do I be nice and bring a glass of water and some aspirin for the hangover? Do I just sit here all day waiting for him to show his face?

He's the first person who isn't my mother that's stayed here, other than Owen that is. I feel so out of routine, I don't like change and now there's a man sleeping in my spare room, a man who'll wake up and probably start being a dick. Even Willow seemed confused, she noticed the pair of mysterious black Chelsea boots at the front door and now she's avoiding me, my own cat is avoiding me.

The question of how Harry will be towards me this morning is still doing rounds in my mind. Will he hate me and try piss of off or will he be his version of nice? Last night he wasn't the worst, although it was just a circle of saying something harsh and then something the slightest bit nicer.

This is too much to think about when I've not slept, as if my mind isn't ready in overdrive.

I'll just piano all the thoughts away, drown myself in some intense, dramatic piece that matches the madness going on in my head right now. It won't waken Harry, I can't normally hear when Willow decides to dance on top of the keys and judging by the state he as in last night, he won't be awake for a little while longer.

I remember him falling on top of the bed and instantly falling asleep the second his head crashed down onto the pillow. I had to push him up my stairs because the minute he stepped out the car he turned into a literal zombie.

I've sat on the floor in my office holding a bucket up for this man to throw up into and I've pushed him up my own stairs and made sure he went to bed so if he dares to start being a dick I'll happily remind him of that.

Je Te Veux. That's the one, good old Eric Satie once again.

The whole word disappears when I'm playing, it's like the only two things present are me and Sylvie the piano. I get lost in the sound, my mind only focussed on the keys I'm pressing that grow to become muscle memory. That's the beauty of it I suppose, and the pieces that are so intricate only have you getting more lost in the art.

This was another one I taught myself, I like playing these ones, makes me feel proud and that's a feeling that rarely comes out to play. The ones I learned from my grandmother are good when I'm reminiscing or when I'm sad and lose myself.  There's not a bad memory attached to the piano, only because nobody cares about classical music, everyone finds it boring. I'm not complaining though, means I don't get these songs ruined by people who don't care about them, because they don't even want to listen in the first place.

That was Owen, always told me to get a normal hobby, an exciting one and so I did. I bought a club and look at us now. I'm (sometimes) happy and doing better than I ever have, he's part of a gang and clearly lonely.