Little Freak {HS}

IX - Mesmerized

I suppose her hair really is red. And it almost looks metallic. Almost like a color never seen before. I wonder if people notice it too. I wonder if she has ever been told how pretty her hair is. Or if she realises that if it were somebody else's hair it would never make me stare like I'm staring at her right now.

We were supposed to be doing our homework - suddenly, I found myself asking her if she wanted to do it together. I couldn't help it. There was something in me that felt in danger for not being next to her. That's the best way in which I can describe it, and only I know how I had never felt this way before.

I do have my homework in my hand and pen in the other, but my attention is somewhere else. She seems to have already finished hers, for she got up some moments ago, slightly slamming the materials on top of the little table in front of the couch of her basement, and went straight to her keyboard where she's now playing something calm I don't recognize.

Giving it a second thought, I think she just gave up on doing her homework, giving the frustrated sigh she let out when she did. For moments I worried I might had done something wrong, unintentionally of course. But I've been sitting here completely quiet and focused, so now I'm left to assume that perhaps she didn't even want me to come in the first place.

I've been looking at her back turned to me and the movements of her slow arms and low head, and it is genuinely breaking my heart to see her in a bad mood. It's like her sadness is a prediction of the end of the world, and I'm yet to know how do I suddenly have these kind of thoughts as if they've always been obvious things. But I'm just finding out about them, must I do something about it?

I purse my lips, putting my things aside and hesitating for a second before standing up.

"You'll have to teach me how to play, someday." I tell her after stopping right beside her at the instrument and making sure she noticed me, not risking to scare her. But she barely seems to acknowledge me as her response is a small affirmative hum and not a little sign that I distract her in some way. I keep my hands on my pockets and glance from hers to her side profile covered by her hair.

"I'm sorry." I speak again, trying to make her look at me before I give in and take it behind her ear, the more I'm sure the look in her eyes would crush me if she did.

"For what?" She asks confused, the frown of her eyebrows flinching, but still busy with the keys.

"I don't know, I feel like you're mad at me."

"You're actually the last person I'm mad at, right now." She chuckles and talks quickly, an ironic smile heard in the way she does. I hesitate "What does that mean?"

"I'm not mad at you." And now she hesitates too "Although you're the reason why people make me mad at them."

I keep my eyes on the part of her face I can see, trying to make sense of her words. She's mad at someone, but I'm the reason behind it? Then, she is mad at me, question mark. She must sense my deep confusion, so she stops playing suddenly, sighing again and letting her head fall back, her hair following and clearing me the sight of her eyes blinking longer for that second.

"My friends stoped talking to me since they found out I was in your band." She explains and my face falls. I should've expected. I noticed the rumors that I had a band already, but it was only known Caroline was the other member on friday, with the announcements for our concert and our names on it. But everytime I had to reach for her in school, she was with other people and I always ignored the hesitant glances they sent my way everytime. But now I can not ignore that maybe they understood what was going on sooner, right because of those rumors. Why would I be talking with one specific person if they had nothing to do with it? And who else would?