Fair Game

See You Again

Hers

6 AM, and the rhythmic patterns of rain fall disguise themselves as a lullaby. The small thumps against the ceiling make an effort to lull me to sleep, but it just doesn't seem to be working. Visually, the weather begins creating a calm picture on my window pane. Each droplet falls, scattered on my window, and I watch as a single drop races down the glass like a tear.

Can you really call him a boyfriend if you barely know him? My mind asks itself about Zayn. I mean, we've been dating for a few weeks now, and I enjoy every ounce of his company, but this just doesn't feel right.

Although our time together is short, I feel like there is a huge piece of the puzzle I'm missing about him. He seems too perfect to be real.

A muffled voice rings in my ear, harmonizing with the smoothness if the rain. I step out of bed, pressing my bare feet onto the cold floor, and walk to the ledge of my window.

The voice is muffled, and sings to a tune, humming something I've never heard before. I squint my eyes, trying to fixate them on the figure across from me. As I take my glasses from my nightstand, I place them on my nose, seeing Harry sitting on his bed. His features are somewhat blurred due to the sheerness of the bedroom curtains in front of my view.

I feel my muscles tighten, butterflies forming in my chest. His voice is so soothing.

He sits with a guitar strapped to his chest, and I watch his fingers dance along the strings. For a moment he stops, placing his pick in between his teeth, as he jots down something on a piece of paper.

He writes? Maybe all of his anger is used to mask this other side of him. The one with feelings.

Strangely, the way he played did not represent the same genre of music that was playing when I first moved in. It was much calmer, and emotionally driven. He takes the pick and begins to play again, strumming a tune. He nods his head, before singing his written lyrics:

(Play video)

Same lips red, same eyes blue
Same white shirt, couple more tattoos
But it's not you and it's not me
Tastes so sweet, looks so real
Sounds like something that I used to feel
But I can't touch what I see
We're not who we used to be
We're not who we used to be
We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me
Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat
The fridge light washes this room white
Moon dances over your good side
This was all we used to need
Tongue-tied like we've never known
Telling those stories we already told
'Cause we don't say what we really mean
We're not who we used to be
We're not who we used to be
We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me
We're not who we used to be
We're not who we used to be
We're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat
We're not who we used to be
We're not who we used to be
We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me
We're not who we used to be
We don't see what we used to see
We're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat
Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat
I'm just trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat

It was then I knew, Harry is not angry. Nor does he want to be alone. He's hurt.

I feel my heart swell, the butterflies growing within me.

Everything about him makes me nervous. I am usually anxious most of the time, but it was different with Harry. I haven't seen him in weeks, yet seeing him through a bedroom window causes my body to forget how to function.