Songs About Hayley (A Hayley Williams FanFiction)

Harder To Breathe

"So, how are things with you and Cynthia?"

And there's the question I was dreading he would ask. That's my best friend of 14 years, George. I understand the guy's just looking out for me, making sure I'm alright and all, but he doesn't stop himself from being too nosy sometimes.

"Alright, I guess." That's a lie, probably the biggest one I've told in my entire life, even bigger than when I was 5 years old drawing on the walls and stone-faced told my Mum it was 'Mr Nobody' that had done it.

"Look, y'know, Paul, if there ar-", his phone rings, thank God. One of the benefits of studying abroad for college, your family call you every 10 minutes to check everything is okay and the horrors of America haven't violently killed you yet.

I moved to Nashville from Scotland around 5 or 6 months ago after finishing up high school. My Mum would never let me take a gap year off in a million years so I figured I would go abroad and study there too, so its a win-win for everyone.

And, yes, my name is Paul.

"Shit, I gotta run, but don't think this lets you off from telling me what's wrong! I'll talk to you later, Paulie." I hated when he called me that. Anyway, George's peer pressure was not enough for me to talk about my feelings just yet, so I guess I'll keep them bottled up some more until I have some sort of mental breakdown, at least something interesting will happen then.

As I'm leaving this nice little cafe named Joe's I found in the centre of Nashville, only a couple months ago, my phone goes off. Cynthia. Shit, what now?

"Hey, uh, where are you?" I hear her say on the other end of the line.

"Just leaving Joe's, why, what's wrong?" Does she think I have the energy to cheat on her at 9:30am on a Tuesday?

"Nothing, nothing. Just, you were gone for a long time, thought you might be up to something, I don't know." I had been gone 20 minutes. I sighed heavily to show her my annoyance.

"I'll be home soon."

"Good" is all she said and then the line went dead, she hung up. Just a month ago we were in love and having a wonderful time waking up to each other every morning, now, and I hate to say it, but I can't stand to even look at her anymore, and I think she feels the same. I knew it was too early to ask her to move in.

Eventually, I return to my 'humble abode' and hang up my jacket, as someone who came from Scotland, it just felt natural to have a coat on in the middle of Summer, June to be exact. I look around the little apartment, it was all I could afford really, I knew I needed to find some sort of job to even pay rent next month, let alone keep myself alive. Cynthia kept going on about taking out a loan, I knew that would only end with me being in more debt than if I had a gambling addiction. I walk into the almost phone box like kitchen and see Cynthia making herself breakfast, toast.

"Hey" she says bluntly. That's the way I want to be greeted by my girlfriend while in a stressful time in my life. No affection or reassurance, just "Hey".

"George is doing well." I tell her as I open the fridge to see a carton of orange juice and nothing else. "Where's all the food, I thought you said you were going shopping while I was out.

"Well, if you haven't noticed, man-of-the-house, we have no fucking money, I've been wearing the same clothes for 3 days because you still haven't called the guy to fix the washing machine."

"Well, that's because we have no fucking money." I sarcastically return with.

"This isn't a fucking joke, Paul. What are you going to do?"

"Why just me? Can't you try and find a job too, instead of sitting in the bedroom smoking cannabis all damn day!?" I was getting kind of mad now.

"Excuse me? You were the one who asked me to move in with you while you had no money!" Women always know how to win an argument, I don't think I've ever won an argument with a women in my life. So, I do what every man does best, I flee.

"I'm going to get milk" I say flatly and leave, slamming the door behind me as I leave, and storm down the hallway, just wanting to get away from that damn apartment. I get in my car and head for the store.

"That was Justin Timberlake with 'Sexyback', coming up we've got last year's Summer hit, it's Timbaland and Nelly Furtado with 'Promiscuous'" blasts the man from the car radio. Is it wrong to unironically like this song? I mumble the words as I drive to my destination, hell, from the amount of times it was played last year, I'm not surprised I know all the words.

I return home at around 1:30pm after just cruising around Nashville for a few hours, probably a bad idea as I'm almost out of petrol and that's even more money. There's no one home apart from a lone piece of paper on the bare kitchen counter.

Going out with friends, will be home late. Don't wait up for me.

At least, she's out of my hair for a while. God, I sound like a parent, glad that their child is out for a while so they can relax. I flip through the movie channels on the TV and decide to watch A Hard Day's Night, probably my favourite movie of all time. Eventually, at some point around 11pm, I slip into a sweet slumber.