Face The Music

[ 0 ] - prologue

[0]

AUGUST 1998
ALEXANDRIA, EGYPT

Purple haze all in my brain
Lately things just don't seem the same

It was rumored that Jimi Hendrix wrote "Purple Haze" after dreaming about walking under the sea.

Sometimes, that is how I feel when I look at her. I mean, why would anyone leave a full-blown party to check what is happening in the stairwell of her best friend's apartment building? Sara. Sara would.

I haven't considered that when I removed myself from the mass of people who came to have fun just so I can go cry on the dirty stairs. I should have expected her to follow me, or at the very least, notice I was gone.

"What are you doing here?"

I didn't look up. She plopped down next to me, trying to get as little dirt as she can on her black jeans.

Purple Haze all around
Don't know if I'm comin' up or down

"What? You've never seen a full-grown man crying at his birthday party before?" I tried to laugh it off, but my voice broke a little. She chuckled and put her hand on my leg.

"You're not a full-grown man, Omar."

It was hard not to look at her. The fluorescent lights were making the eyeshadow on her eyelids glitter. She also smelled like peaches. I loved peaches.

Am I happy or in misery?
Whatever it is, that girl put a spell on me

"I live almost on my own, I can cook a pretty good dinner and I know how to fill out tax returns. Ergo, I am a grown man."

She let out a small laugh, then leaned on my shoulder, slowly, as if not to disturb anything, as if I were so fragile even leaning on me could make me crumble into pieces.

She didn't ask me what was wrong. She knew it would make everything worse. She just always knew the right thing to do or say. Sometimes, I was jealous.

When I thought too hard about it, I realized that it was not a good decision to tell her I am moving away for good. Nor was it a good decision to tell her I am in love with her before moving away for good.

Help me
Help me
Oh, no, no

She smelled like peaches.

"You smell like peaches," I said, wiping my eyes and finally looking her in the eyes. She smiled, intertwining her hand with mine.

"It's my mom's."

She had lip-gloss on.

I like to think I had a choice, that I could have been sitting on the stairwell next to my best friend who had pink lip-gloss on and smelled like peaches and not kissed her. But, I never had many choices in life in general. I didn't have a choice on where I would spend the rest of my life. I didn't have a choice on if I can take the love of my life with me. And in that moment, I had no choice.

"It was rumored that Jimi Hendrix wrote "Purple Haze" after dreaming about walking under the sea."

"Wha—"

I pressed my lips onto hers, slowly. I could taste the lip-gloss. Strawberry.

Is it tomorrow, or just the end of time?

She kissed me back. It would be cliché to say I wanted to stay like that for the rest of my life. But, I did. I put my hands in her hair. Everything seemed to slow down. The party. The music. The voices of the people chatting. The buzz of the fluorescent lights.

I can't go on like this

I didn't want to let go.

If I let go, then this wasn't real. It never happened and it would never happen. I'd never get to see her again. I'd never get to kiss her again. I'd never get to live my life the way I pictured it, the way I wanted it to go. I wasn't sad anymore. I was angry. Furious.

I broke away.

"We need to get back to the party."

Purple haze, no, it's painful, baby

I didn't see her come behind me right away.

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Side A/B - Song 0 
[ Jimi Hendrix - Purple Haze ] 

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hello lovely people, it's been a while since i've been on wattpad, or writing ya novels in general. please tell me what you think about this! don't hesitate to criticize or leave me something to think about! i missed this.

nour. 

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