in which cameron suffers from seasonal depression and she doesn't know how to help.
there's a thrum of guitar strings.
she hears it— and sighs.
she isn't sure if she should breathe happily or sadly; there's various possibilities of what she would find if she followed the sound until she unveiled the outcome.
she shivers because the gentle pluck of guitar strings is beautiful—he always plays so beautifully—but it's a low toned, melancholic song and she's torn between some unknown battle of duality.
she closes the door behind her body with her foot, the grocery bags in her hands making her arms begin to burn as she waddles to the kitchen. she sets them down and sighs, trying to ignore the guitar but she can't and she shouldn't.
his love huffs.
she blows air from out between her lips and her head drops to her chest. she turns, looking over her shoulder at the stairway— the music is coming from the top of it, their bedroom.
he hasn't moved since i left, has he?
a glimpse at the clock confirms the three hours that have passed since she left, and her heart throbs at the possibility that he hasn't shifted from his spot in their bedroom.
she kicks her shoes off and away and she's mulling in her head some kind of speech but it helplessly dissipates as she walks up the stairs.
"cam?"
the plucking doesn't cease and she isn't sure if she wants it to anyways.
hesitancy.
always, always hesitancy when it comes to times like these.
moments like these are unsure and tentative for her; she can never know if she's making the right choice because he turns so stoic and blank in the winter and she can never gauge any reaction.
even her steps are hesitant as she sighs outside their bedroom doorframe before walking in slowly.
his profile is to her.
he's shirtless and sitting in the middle of their bed and his guitar is in his lap, hair wet with his curls falling down his face and he looks so fucking sad and gorgeous at the same time.
his eyes are downcast on his instrument and he seems lost in his music, so much so that he doesn't react when she's standing a foot into the room.
"cam?"
he jumps.
the dimples at the bottom of his back move and momentarily deepen and she sighs again—she feels like that's all she does nowadays—because she hasn't seen his gorgeous smile in what feels like forever.
she misses his smile.
his face turns so his eyes meet hers and she smiles small, hoping that his guitar playing was a sign of motivation— in any way.
