Post by SomethingAboutTheStars on Apr 5, 2012 21:16:48 GMT -5
17 more chapters to go! Thanks SO SO SO SO SO MUCH to Greysongal97!! <3 I love your support on this story.
This chapter includes an awkward poem (I'm definitely not a poet) and lots of Greyson's views. (:
Oh, and have you read walktherainbows's story, Hanging By A Thread? It's gorgeously written! Sadly, she hasn't updated in awhile...but...hopefully soon!!!
Stephen and I talk when Lorence is asleep, which is a lot of the time. She’s supposed to be here for another two or three days, and then will have to come back for a check on her burns. She looks peaceful sleeping. One time, Stephen and I leave the hospital to go on a walk. I’m slightly worried.
“What if she wakes up and we’re not there?” I ask continually.
“Calm down, dude. She’ll be good. I mean, I know she likes you and everything, but she’s strong and doesn’t always like to have someone take care of her. She actually told me that sitting in a hospital is humiliating,” Stephen laughs.
“Maybe it’s not her,” I say thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s me.”
“That you don’t want to be away from her?” Stephen asks.
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I don’t feel like I can love her enough to heal her when I’m further away.”
“She can heal herself. I mean, love helps, but like I said, she’s strong,” Stephen says. Then he pulls up his sleeve. “This is what I mean about her not liking people take care of her.” On his wrist there’s a bracelet. It’s got colorful beads on it and the string looks like it can’t take anymore. Then I see the second one. But the other isn’t as crammed with beads. I look at Stephen with confusion.
“These are favors,” he said, touching each one. “Every time I walk her home, give her a ride, call a cab and give her change, pour free hot chocolate…she puts a bead on. She says she’ll pay me back eventually.”
I smile. “That sounds just like what she’d do.”
Stephen nods.
“So you’ve known each other for a while?” I ask.
“Actually, a really long time. We just got reconnected about a year ago.”
“How long would that be?”
“Let’s see, we’re nineteen now, uhm, so it was four years when she was fourteen, so about seven years,” Stephen looks at me with a goofy grin, like he’s fake proud of himself for doing the math.
“Wow.” I’m impressed. There’s a question that’s bugging me, but I wouldn’t want to make this awkward. But I say it. “Did you ever like her?”
“Nope. We were always just…friends.” Stephen takes the question easily. There’s no air change between us.
“Ah. I was just—“ I start to say.
Stephen finishes for me. “Wondering.”
I nod. We keep walking, talking about simple things—sports, soccer, baseball, music, piano, guitar, singing—I find we have a lot in common. It dawns on me that Lorence might’ve liked Stephen. They were friends for so long; maybe she tried to give him her heart. I wonder if I should ask her, but then decide it could be a touchy subject.
Stephen and I chatter for another block, until we’ve come to a bookstore. The café is a few more blocks down, I recognized the area. Stephen tells me that Lorence works here in the mornings, comes to the café, and then goes home to write or something. I motion to the inside.
“Why don’t we get her something?” I suggest. Stephen agrees and we walk inside.
I choose a pack of black moleskines notebooks and Stephen finds fountain pens. We pay separately, and walk back. Right before we go, I buy white Sharpie pens.
Lorence is still sleeping when we get back. Stephen’s father is sitting on the cot they brought in for me. So far, I haven’t used it. I’ve instead pulled up a chair and sit next to her. Though I want to talk to Lorence again, tell her I love her, and apologize, I’m glad she’s still asleep. For one, she needs to heal. Two, I need to work on something for her. Stephen’s dad comes over as we spread what we’ve bought onto the table at the foot of her bed. He puts his hand on Stephen’s shoulder, and I see Stephen flinch away, but then tolerates the touch. I take the pack of white Sharpies and open it, and pull off the plastic covering the notebooks. There’s three of them. I give one to Stephen after his dad leaves. Stephen seems to relax. Then I take the other.
“Do what you want with it,” I tell him. I start to draw the words that describe my love for Lorence. I see Stephen is writing inside jokes and song lyrics. One is from the Plain White T’s. This is the place where your mind can escape all the problems today have gone far, far away. This is the time with no history, welcome to mystery.
I get inspired and start writing more. First, I pull the receipt out of my pocket and write the lyrics on the receipt with another pen that I find on the table. You’re the match we’re the spark we’re fire we light up the dark. They’re old lyrics, but I remember how much I liked them. But then I think of the fire that nearly destroyed us and I crumble the receipt up, shoving it deep into my pocket. When I wash my jacket and dry it, the lint will take care of it and I’ll throw it away. I don’t want to see it again.
So instead I try and write more lyrics.
It’s a long day dream ahead
I know you’ll be waiting when I wake up.
It’s a long nightmare ahead
I hope your there to give me love.
Well, what do you know?
A broken pianist and a broken artist
We both are trying to make it in our world
But there’s something on our shoulders
What do you know?
A tattered page, we’re out of tune.
But nothing else matters,
When I love you.
I admit it’s not my best, but I like it. I decorate the notebook with the words, putting them different ways, horizontal or vertical, trying to write the lines in different fonts. And then I realize how long it’s been since I’ve written down song lyrics. I try and hide the smile as I continue working.
This chapter includes an awkward poem (I'm definitely not a poet) and lots of Greyson's views. (:
Oh, and have you read walktherainbows's story, Hanging By A Thread? It's gorgeously written! Sadly, she hasn't updated in awhile...but...hopefully soon!!!
Chapter 20
Greyson
Stephen and I talk when Lorence is asleep, which is a lot of the time. She’s supposed to be here for another two or three days, and then will have to come back for a check on her burns. She looks peaceful sleeping. One time, Stephen and I leave the hospital to go on a walk. I’m slightly worried.
“What if she wakes up and we’re not there?” I ask continually.
“Calm down, dude. She’ll be good. I mean, I know she likes you and everything, but she’s strong and doesn’t always like to have someone take care of her. She actually told me that sitting in a hospital is humiliating,” Stephen laughs.
“Maybe it’s not her,” I say thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s me.”
“That you don’t want to be away from her?” Stephen asks.
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I don’t feel like I can love her enough to heal her when I’m further away.”
“She can heal herself. I mean, love helps, but like I said, she’s strong,” Stephen says. Then he pulls up his sleeve. “This is what I mean about her not liking people take care of her.” On his wrist there’s a bracelet. It’s got colorful beads on it and the string looks like it can’t take anymore. Then I see the second one. But the other isn’t as crammed with beads. I look at Stephen with confusion.
“These are favors,” he said, touching each one. “Every time I walk her home, give her a ride, call a cab and give her change, pour free hot chocolate…she puts a bead on. She says she’ll pay me back eventually.”
I smile. “That sounds just like what she’d do.”
Stephen nods.
“So you’ve known each other for a while?” I ask.
“Actually, a really long time. We just got reconnected about a year ago.”
“How long would that be?”
“Let’s see, we’re nineteen now, uhm, so it was four years when she was fourteen, so about seven years,” Stephen looks at me with a goofy grin, like he’s fake proud of himself for doing the math.
“Wow.” I’m impressed. There’s a question that’s bugging me, but I wouldn’t want to make this awkward. But I say it. “Did you ever like her?”
“Nope. We were always just…friends.” Stephen takes the question easily. There’s no air change between us.
“Ah. I was just—“ I start to say.
Stephen finishes for me. “Wondering.”
I nod. We keep walking, talking about simple things—sports, soccer, baseball, music, piano, guitar, singing—I find we have a lot in common. It dawns on me that Lorence might’ve liked Stephen. They were friends for so long; maybe she tried to give him her heart. I wonder if I should ask her, but then decide it could be a touchy subject.
Stephen and I chatter for another block, until we’ve come to a bookstore. The café is a few more blocks down, I recognized the area. Stephen tells me that Lorence works here in the mornings, comes to the café, and then goes home to write or something. I motion to the inside.
“Why don’t we get her something?” I suggest. Stephen agrees and we walk inside.
I choose a pack of black moleskines notebooks and Stephen finds fountain pens. We pay separately, and walk back. Right before we go, I buy white Sharpie pens.
Lorence is still sleeping when we get back. Stephen’s father is sitting on the cot they brought in for me. So far, I haven’t used it. I’ve instead pulled up a chair and sit next to her. Though I want to talk to Lorence again, tell her I love her, and apologize, I’m glad she’s still asleep. For one, she needs to heal. Two, I need to work on something for her. Stephen’s dad comes over as we spread what we’ve bought onto the table at the foot of her bed. He puts his hand on Stephen’s shoulder, and I see Stephen flinch away, but then tolerates the touch. I take the pack of white Sharpies and open it, and pull off the plastic covering the notebooks. There’s three of them. I give one to Stephen after his dad leaves. Stephen seems to relax. Then I take the other.
“Do what you want with it,” I tell him. I start to draw the words that describe my love for Lorence. I see Stephen is writing inside jokes and song lyrics. One is from the Plain White T’s. This is the place where your mind can escape all the problems today have gone far, far away. This is the time with no history, welcome to mystery.
I get inspired and start writing more. First, I pull the receipt out of my pocket and write the lyrics on the receipt with another pen that I find on the table. You’re the match we’re the spark we’re fire we light up the dark. They’re old lyrics, but I remember how much I liked them. But then I think of the fire that nearly destroyed us and I crumble the receipt up, shoving it deep into my pocket. When I wash my jacket and dry it, the lint will take care of it and I’ll throw it away. I don’t want to see it again.
So instead I try and write more lyrics.
It’s a long day dream ahead
I know you’ll be waiting when I wake up.
It’s a long nightmare ahead
I hope your there to give me love.
Well, what do you know?
A broken pianist and a broken artist
We both are trying to make it in our world
But there’s something on our shoulders
What do you know?
A tattered page, we’re out of tune.
But nothing else matters,
When I love you.
I admit it’s not my best, but I like it. I decorate the notebook with the words, putting them different ways, horizontal or vertical, trying to write the lines in different fonts. And then I realize how long it’s been since I’ve written down song lyrics. I try and hide the smile as I continue working.