Affluent [H.S]

Seventeen

30 June 2020
Emersyn Ripley

My life feels like a constant rotation of bad luck, different scenarios playing out at my expense. I'm stuck in an endless cycle and you're my only escape, Romeo.

There's so much ahead of us, it's just a case of time. How much time do I have with you?

I like to think forever.

But I have a tendency to dream bigger than reality.

The rain hammers down outside, my eyes trained on the little droplets that roll down the windows into a puddle on the ledge. Listening to them brings me a strange comfort, the darkness adds to it.

I love the rain.

Even though it's viewed by some as sad and forces people to stay indoors, we wouldn't have flowers without the rain. They bloom and flourish with the help from the rain, like how letting your own sadness out helps you heal and thrive as a person.

Rain can come so unexpectedly, the sunniest days sometimes experience it so suddenly and it reminds me of falling in love.

The first droplet hits you and immediate panic takes over, trying to hide away and take cover until you realise it's just rain and allow yourself to walk through it. Love makes people panic, it makes them run away to protect their own heart but sometimes heartbreak makes you a better first person.

Are you going to be my heartbreak, Romeo?

Is my heart going to slowly unknowingly splinter while we're together until it no longer can hold itself together, finally having to split into hundreds of little pieces? I hope not.

I fear my heart is going to cling to you for a while, maybe forever.

Forever is a long time but I'm committed.

My pen scratches against the journal pages, resting on my tucked up knees in front of the window, sitting on the ledge with my temple leant on the glass to watch the raindrops roll down the other side.

The soft strum of guitar strings mixes with the pattering of the rain to create the most beautiful tune, my head lifting to gaze at a shirtless Harry sitting up against his headboard, guitar in his lap.

You truly were art.

Sitting playing your guitar with delicate fingers, concentrating heavily to make sure what you're playing is correct. It's clear you hadn't picked the dusty instrument up for a while but as soon as I laid eyes on it and asked why you'd hidden it, you pulled it out to play.

Did you want to impress me, Romeo?

Or did the hidden guitar bring back memories you'd locked away when you left the guitar to collect dust? Was playing it while I'm in the room comforting? Did you feel safe to relive those emotions?