IN WHICH,
The boy who frequents your father's workshop carves a place for himself in your heart.
'He's looking at you. He's looking at you as if you're his whole world. If anyone could see him right now, they would immediately understand one thing:...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The night was young, and the bar was even rowdier than usual around this time.
Iver, the man who had graciously hired you after listening to you play a song, had supported you throughout the busy nights. Whenever you paused for a break or finished a round of songs, he had always offered you free drinks or a moment to relax. He was proud of you, of the talent that he played a part in cultivating. The regulars at the bar also enjoyed your shows, looking forward to your next ones.
As soon as you told your parents the news, the happiness on their faces was evident. It seemed you were growing quicker by the day. How could their sweet child mature so quickly in a couple of months?
It was that lumberjack, Treech. The one you wouldn't stop talking about. He had entered your life and offered an entirely new perspective, like how the warmth of the sun uncovered the frostbitten flowers of the colder seasons.
Even without him there, the mark he had left was irreversible. You tried to fill it up, to brush over his existence until you realised - you couldn't. Not anymore.
Playing the guitar felt as if you were still carrying a part of him with you, sharing it with the district. You liked to think that maybe, in some other universe, he would be watching you from the crowd. You would be on the stage glittering in the golden light of the bar, and he would have asked you to dance. One dance would lead to sharing a meal, and perhaps you two could have lived your youths effervescent and carefree.
It was a funny thought, you told yourself. Realistically, you wouldn't even be here shining like a gem in front of the people. The only reason you were here right now was because of him, and the magic he had imparted to you in those firm hands of his.
Resuming your place back on the stage, you greet the audience with a smile on your face.
As an artist, your work was what the people would look at. Never you. You were alright with that however, as being the center of everyone's attention was frightening.
Somehow, that didn't matter now. The spotlight was calling your name, and it had never felt more right for you.
"Alright, alright. One more round of songs, just because you asked!!"
You laugh melodically, and the audience cheers in response. Delicately, your hands dance across your guitar and the bar lights up once again.
Shake it like a ladder to the sun
Makes me feel like a madman on the run
Find me never never far gone
Your fingers rapidly strum across the strings, and the microphone echoes with the sound of your voice.
