I know you've been hurt before,
but you don't have to run from me. I'm on your side.
Runner • Why Don't We
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She's there again.
Her hands shake as she carefully stencils in notes on her paper. Her finger dance on the keys gently.
I stand on the outside looking in. I watch from the tiny window. I admire her grace and beauty.
It began in the spring. I'd arrived at the studio like normal, but someone was at the piano already. It continued that way for the next six months. I've spent so much time watching someone whose name I don't even know.
Today, I turn away, but something stops me.
The faint sound of the piano floats towards me. She's playing my song. My hand flies to the door handle
Everything slows down.
The door opens slowly.
She turns.
Her eyes widen at me.
I walk towards her.
Then, she's gone.
I stand numbly at the piano. She'd rushed out before I could say hello. She'd rushed out before I could join her playing. She'd rushed out before I could do anything.
She's gone.
. . .
She doesn't appear for weeks. I look for her in a halls, in the studio, in every class, but she's lost.
I wait every day in the studio. I play every day. I play the same song: her song.
I mess around with the melody, the chords, the octave. I play it backwards and forwards. I continue playing it over and over again until my fingers slip into a new melody.
The next day, I sit down and continue my song.
I spend weeks working on the song until it's finished. Then, I play it over and over again.
The school year comes to an end, and she's no where to be found.
The last day arrives and I follow my routine: one last time.
I open the door slowly, and time slows down.
She turns.
Her eyes widen at me.
I walk towards her.
She stays.
"Can you teach me your song?" Her voice is quiet against the noise within my head. I blink, staring at her long enough to ensure she's real.
"Yes."
. . .
We spend weeks together in the studio, even when the school is locked up. We write songs together. We play together.
She's always nervous and jumpy. If I step too close, she'll be gone again. I keep my distance. I watch as she plays.
We continue this ritual every day, until the day I kiss her.
It happened quickly. It happened without thinking.
I only remember her fingers were flying over the keys so gracefully, and I suddenly felt an urge to kiss her.
I did, and she ran.
She was gone, again.
. . .
She doesn't show for days, but it feels like years.
I wait.
Four days pass, and I arrive like normal, but she's there. This time, she's waiting for me.
"I'm so sorry," Her voice is soft.
"Don't be," I reply back. Her eyes are glassy.
"I loved him, and he left. No explanation. No texts. He just left me."
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer.
"I know you've been hurt before, but you don't have to run from me. I'm on your side," I promise her.
And, this time, she leans toward me. This time, she kisses me.
hey, guys! i recently published a new book "On My Way," a Why Don't We book, so if you're a fan of the boys, check it out! thank you for the continuous support!
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