Stealing Kisses

Chapter 11

Faith POV: 

We sit on his couch, trying to write down every single memory that we've had since that initial moment. I tell him about the lashing and the skinny dipping, and he circles around his memories of me strategically. I click my pen a few times, trying to remind him of what we are supposed to be doing, but he ignores it. 

"I wonder if maybe you see things that were monumental in why things are the way they are now, you know?" He rambles, trying to avoid answering his side of the question. I take a deep breath, rubbing my forehead as I try to figure out a way to get him back on track. 

"Tim, come on." I let out, witnessing him cringe. He opens his mouth, before sighing. He leans back into the couch, crossing his arms while chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

"I saw you when you were really young. You snuck out of your room, and saw your parents shooting up. You ran up to your Dad, because you were scared..." He stops himself, as I strive to remember what he's talking about. My memory is running dry. "He uh... he took you downstairs and locked you in the basement, while they shot up enough to pass out. Then didn't let you out until the morning." He says quietly, looking down at his lap. I vaguely remember that, but I couldn't have been older than four. I scribble in down in the notebook, seeing a parallel between something he and I saw. 

"I was about four when that happened... and you were around four in the memory I saw of you." I connect, watching him glance up at me. "Do you think it's like a one-for-one?" I question, as he shrugs. 

"I don't know. I really haven't seen enough to tell." He replies, as I stare down at the paper. He stands up, before seeming to grimmance. 

"Are you okay?" I ask, as he rests a hand on his side. He walks toward the bathroom. 

"I'm fine." He says, sounding almost aggressive in tone. He walks into the restroom, shutting the door behind him. I glance down at the sheet, before standing up. Tim's shift in demeanour has me feeling uneasy. I walk around the living room, peeking down a hall that has a staircase at the end. I glance toward the bathroom, before sneaking toward it. I carefully tiptoe down, although he's on the other side of the house. In the basement lies a full out studio, making me smile. I walk up to the computer sitting over the mixing board, shaking the mouse connected to it. It's on, and logged in. 

I glance back toward the staircase, before clicking on a folder listed UNTITLED '02. Inside rests twenty-six audio files. I've hit a treasure trove. 

I click on the only unnamed song, queuing it to play through the headset connected to the mixing board. I put the headphones on, hearing a simple organ play with a guitar, before Tim's voice comes in. 

"I'm going to clean the house, I'm gonna fix the fence. In my final hours, I'm gonna tie up these loose ends. I won't leave a note for anyone to find. Tomorrow they'll know, what I've done here tonight." He sings, making my chest ache. I shut my eyes, paying attention to the lyrics and how he sings them. It doesn't feel as much like a song, as it does a letter. 

"The drastic steps I'm takin' are just an act of desperation. I knew no one would miss me, so what the hell. I fought and lied, I drank too much, I hurt everyone I ever touched. Just how much I hurt you is hard to tell. This is not some kind of cry for help, just goodbye I wish you well. Because I love you... I'm gonna kill myself..." He sings, making me cringe. I quickly press pause, feeling my chest pound. My head throbs with his words, longing for something else to take its place. I hit play again, only to have my finger slip onto the forward key. It queues up the next song.

"She's my kind of rain, like love in a drunken sky. She's confetti falling down all night. She sits quietly there, like water in a jar... Says, 'Baby why are you trembling like you are?' So I wait, and I try... I confess like a child..." His voice sings, giving me chills. I lean back into my chair, shutting my eyes and breathing in the lyrics. 

"She's my kind of rain, like love from a drunken sky... Confetti falling down all night... She's my kind of rain..." His voice sings a gorgeous melody. I reopen my eyes, feeling a little shocked. 

He sits across from me in bed, a guitar resting on his lap while I wear his button-up dress shirt, my hair a complete mess on my shoulders. He smiles at me as he strums, his smile so unbelievably warm. 

"She's the sunset shadows, she's like Rembrandt's light. She's the history that's made at night. She's my lost companion, she's my dreaming tree, together in this brief eternity..." He sings quietly to me, as I rest my head on the pillow, watching him with a smile. "Summer days, winter snows, she's all things to behold..." He continues, before looking at the fretboard on his guitar, trying to remember the chord that comes next.

"She's my kind of rain, like love from a drunken sky... Confetti falling down all night... She's my kind of rain..." He sings the chorus once more. "So I wait, and I try... I confess all my crimes... She's my kind of rain, like love from a drunken sky... Confetti falling down all night... She's my kind of rain..." He says, before setting down his guitar. He reaches out and pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. "What'd you think?" He asks, as I blush ever so slightly.

"I loved it." I release, watching his eyes shine. He then rests his hand on my cheek, before diving in for a kiss. I laugh with his lips against mine, pulling him on top of me and quickly sliding his boxers down. 

I tear the headphones off, feeling out of breath. I set them down on the mixing board, before placing my hands on top of my head, trying to bring myself back to reality. After a few very deep breaths, I put the computer back to sleep mode, before starting toward the stairs. I jump as Tim leans against the doorway, seeming to have been there for a while. 

"You find what you were looking for?" He asks, making me cringe. I open my mouth to speak, before he puts his hands up. "Just... don't do that again, alright?" He says, sounding like he's fairly aggravated. I notice a beam of sweat running down his forehead, making me stare. "Did you hear me?" He says, noticing that I'm not necessarily locked in on him.

"Yeah." I reply, before narrowing my eyes. "Are you okay?" I ask, noticing his pale lips. He blinks a few times, before rolling his eyes and walking upstairs. "Tim..." I call, running after him. I grab onto his arm, before feeling his cold skin. He turns back toward me, his pupils seeming like pinpoints.

"I'm fine." He says, although he appears lightheaded. He continues to storm off, walking into the kitchen. I feel my heart sink when he collapses, his body falling rigid. I rush toward him, as he tries to catch his breath. 

"What's wrong?" I let out, before laying my hand on his chest. His heart is pounding at an alarming rate. He opens his mouth to speak, before seeming to lose the strength. I quickly reach for a phone, dialing 9-1-1 without hesitation.