There was a beautiful picture that I had sitting on my night table that had gotten me through the hardest of times. It was a black and white shot of me and my best friend, sitting on the swing that sat on his back porch. He had a small smile, with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, bent concentrated over the guitar cradled in his lap. I sported my favourite pair of sweatpants and my University wrestling sweater with the knit socks that I'd brought with me on my exchange to England. It had been a private moment, one that was captured for one reason, and one reason only.
"I don't know how you found out." Tom muttered, his cheeks tinged a pale pink from either the crisp Autumn air or embarrassment; I couldn't tell which.
"I just knew that you had to have an outlet!" I chuckled, holding up the six-string that I'd found in his room.
"What were you even looking for?" He agonized. "You can't just go through my closet like that!"
"Harrison told me that you played...and I had to see if it was true." I shrugged, not in the least ashamed of my snooping.
"That snitch!" Tom cursed under his breath.
"Why are you so afraid of me finding out?" I cocked my head to the side. "It's alright if you suck. You're flawless at pretty much everything else."
He gave me a sarcastic glance. "Y/N, you've seen me try to play football."
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"Okay, so almost everything else..."
"And I don't suck." He added hastily.
"I wouldn't have believed you even if you said you did." I replied, hefting the guitar into his lap. "You told me that you couldn't sing either."
"I can't."
"Dude." I raised both my eyebrows at him. "Lie to me one more time. I dare you."
"You think you can take me, Y/N?" He provoked, throwing back his shoulders. "I'm Spider-Man."
"A loser in spandex and a thong against a four time CIS wrestler?" I pretended to crack my knuckles. "Bring it."
We shared a glance and both busted out in raucous laughter. His laugh was one of the most lovely sounds on earth. "Don't worry, Y/N. I already know that you'd kick my butt."
"I'm also gonna kick your butt if you don't play me a song, Holland."
Tom shook his head. "Music is something that's personal, Y/N. Acting, you can share with the world. Dancing is made for performance. But this? It's an outlet for me...you were right."
"Thomas," I smiled and shoved his shoulder. "Do I look like I'm going to let you off the hook just because you fudge something about it being deep private? I want to hear anything that you can play. It doesn't matter that it's personal, because I'm your friend, and I want to know every part of you. Good and bad. Dark or Positive. All of it."
