The sky was overcast, as if with a sense of foreboding. There was a stillness in the air. A storm was coming.
A_ found himself pondering upon abstract ideas. He was working on the words for some new music. As he stared into the open flames in the fireplace, his mind was softly bombarded with dark, bold emotions. Whether it was the anticipation of the storm outside or a much more fierce storm inside his chest, he could not fathom. He felt a strange sense of caution. As if his brain was trying to prepare him for something.
These feelings were familiar to him. His life, so far, had not been an easy one. He was more comfortable with the dark than he was with the light. He often compared his mind to a dark labyrinth and his heart to a barren wasteland.
His songwriting process was as intense as the lyrics that he came up with. Quite used to the loneliness now, he preferred the isolation. It calmed his mind.
He would sit alone for hours at a time just thinking and feeling. With his mobile phone on airplane mode and the door of his house locked, he transcended the physical world and entered the world of raw emotion.
He was understandably startled when the doorbell rang. He wasn't expecting anyone at this hour of the night. It was 12:30 am.
He became aware of the storm raging outside. The weather had taken its predicted path as the trees outside shook in protest to the cyclonic winds. He threw on his dressing gown and walked over to the door.
With an eye on the coatrack (he could use to defend himself in case of an attack), he slowly unlocked the door. With the chain still bolted he peered through the narrow gap. For a moment in the darkness of the night, he could not recognize the person standing on his front porch. He figured it was a woman or a child judging by the frame of their body. He quickly unchained the door, concluding in his head that someone needed his help because of the storm.
C_ stood motionless as she watched him struggle with the door chain and scramble toward her. His face quickly changed from compassion to shock and then concern as he finally recognized her in the dripping black overcoat. There was a bewildered look on his face when he realized that it wasn't a stranger caught in the storm, but C_ standing outside his door.
His relationship with her was difficult to describe. To anyone who asked, they were very good friends. But the nuances of the relationship were unknown to the world. The delicate complexities that neither A_ nor C_ ever tried to decipher. They were content with their denial.
Whenever A_ was in town, C_ would come over to his place and they would spend hours sitting around, reading poetry and literature, smoking weed, and drinking wine.
They would walk the short hiking trails behind his house that led into beautiful, isolated patches inside the woods. They would lay on the hillside trying to decode the shapes in the clouds and the listening to the hum of the bees.
The time they spent together was kept private. They understood each other's social situation well. As much as they enjoyed spending time with each other their lives couldn't be any more different.
They kept their individual lives separate with strong boundaries. It was an unspoken deal. He could not ask her questions about her other life and she never asked him about his.
He was a public figure who maintained his artist persona for his audience and the people he worked with. His schedule was often spoken for by production studios and bandmates. He always had the clarity to keep his private life away from the public eye and C_ had to respect his boundaries.
He would leave for months on tours and recording sessions. He had an erratic schedule. It was the months in between, when he was home alone, that C_ could see him. During this time there was little to no interference from his work. He was free. His time was his own and he chose to give much of it to C_. At other times he isolated himself and worked on his songs.
