n o t e
hey, loves! welcome back. just want you guys to know that when i write, i don't place a strong bias to one character alone. in fact, it's either i love all of them or i don't favor any one at all. in this case, i'd like to develop another perspective in order to raise the stakes that would make the story more effective; i hope.
let's see where this goes.
sky
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everything;
lifehouse
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—fortyfour—
{ part one }
the second chance
AT 11:30 IN the evening, the mellifluous, honeyed tones ricocheted through the walls of the cabin. The sound of the piano was so hauntingly beautiful that Paige couldn't help but get swept away.
Paige got up, her fingers curling the thick blanket down to her waist. A slight confusion made its way onto her face as she gazed outside, the snow falling so lightly like a feather beyond the window pane.
She wondered if Owen was still awake.
And quite frankly, she'd been turning to her bed from one side to the other as she thought of the chances she didn't take or the things she missed that might be something good–ever since she left Owen downstairs after they both called it a night two hours ago.
Right after a candlelit, sumptuous dinner with a bottle of wine on the side, they reached into a decision to watch a movie together. Owen had flipped through the channels, and they found none worth watching. So he raided into the wooden shelf where the HDTV was perched on, in a quest for some good 'ol movies.
"Huh," he'd huffed, standing up with one hand on his waist, the other holding up a CD. "Serendipity?"
She'd gasped in mirth. "Oh, yes. That's a good movie! I don't know if you'd like that, though. It's a romantic movie, so."
Shrugging, he cocked his head and simply said, "Alright. Let's watch it."
"But guys find those kind of movies boring. You tend to sleep halfway through it."
"Nonsense."
For some unexplainable reason, they'd settled into a cozy silence as they nestled themselves into the couch. Paige fished a chip out of the bag she'd grabbed on the way before the movie started, and offered the junkfood to Owen. He waved it off and pulled the blanket from his side so he could give it to her.
She'd stopped chewing then because her lips fluttered up a small smile. "Thanks," she said, taking it from his hand. And from there, she couldn't remember if they had any proper conversation throughout the movie. Whether it was because they were too engaged into it or for an entirely different reason altogether, she wasn't sure.
She was aware it didn't have to have a reason, though. The two of them were comfortable enough not to accompany it with small talks–the ones you to try to fill into an empty envelope with words that didn't really matter. What was a greeting card when you didn't write something heartfelt, anyway? The ready-made letters were too impersonal. Scripted.
So she didn't pretend to be a chatty extrovert, and just enjoyed the moment. But within herself, she really did want to talk to him about something that required much more courage as those of extraordinary days where you had to actually prepare for a speech.
Albeit if she did, it would feel like she was running a red light. On the other side of the street, shattered dreams awaited, regrets were waiting to hold you captive.
In the middle of the movie, Paige looked at him sideways with a sense of uncertainty. Owen had probably felt her eyes boring into his face so he'd turned aside, only for her to look back into the screen as fast as she could.
Owen cleared his throat, and she braved herself into those deep-set of eyes. He just smiled, and though Owen wasn't required to talk, he was unusually silent this time. He was the one who always had something to say, someone who'd perfected thoughts in word form. But tonight, he was mum through and through.
She couldn't help but feel uneasy. More because of the odd rhythm of her heart. Of course, they were alone in a secluded property, temporary living together under a single roof, and they both had feelings for each other.
Feelings that might be uncontrollably hard for both of them in this kind of setting, to be honest.
Owen stood up out of the blue, only for her to realize that he'd be jostling more firewood into the fireplace, the very action igniting crackling flying ashes around it.
He must be cold, Paige thought, before she cursorily glanced at the blanket around her as Owen padded back to the couch.
"Hey," she'd called out softly, and he'd arched a questioning eyebrow. "This is big enough for two." Even as she said this, she could tell her cheeks were turning a shade of crimson.
He blinked, gazing down at the fleece blanket in a manner that didn't conceal his hesitation. "You sure?"
She nodded a little too stiffly. Owen, in between faint reluctance, finally obliged and sidled next to her as he peeled one end of the blanket and wrapped the rest of it around him.
Their knees rubbed against each other as they'd both perched them up the couch, looking like owls in need of comfort. She didn't like this too much closeness.
She didn't like it because it scared her upon realizing how much she actually wanted it. It was like that blinding moment where you could see nothing; your fingertips were trying to reach for anything that wasn't even there amidst the darkness, and you suddenly bump into something to hold on to; and suddenly, a crashing wave of dismantling relief stole your breath away.
He was that kind of comfort.
At one point, their heads turned to each other at the same time and she'd blinked in surprise. But she didn't turn back. Not from that crumbling warmth of his breath against her lips, anyway.
He'd fractionally parted his mouth when his shadow dawned on her face, making the hairs on her neck stand up. From another person's eyes, it probably didn't seem quite right, Paige had thought for a fleeting moment. But this was the part where the lines were blurred, where nothing was right or wrong anymore. Where nothing but freedom and solace had dwelt into.
The beats thrashing against her breastbone were making her limp like flowers wilting away. He'd gotten her so weak she couldn't speak nor stop him or herself from inching towards each other. Everything around them melted away into nothingness as if she was bespectacled with a sense of intoxicating anticipation.
And then a strange emotion flitted across his face, making him inch back. He'd stifled a sigh as he turned a cheek when Paige froze in confusion. In hurt, even.
"I'm gonna go..." he sloppily gestured a thumb towards the back, his jaw clenching for an unspeakable reason, "um, for a smoke."
She was almost offended. Her heart couldn't take it lightly; so when he shot up from the couch, she seized his hand and had only managed to hold his little finger.
"Tell me."
Paige had couched her words vaguely, but she didn't need to complete her sentence. Her request was easy to decipher and Owen had proven her right, if the indecisiveness dawning in his eyes would be a good indication.
"I want to know what's on your mind," she added, when he stayed silent.
It took him a good five seconds before he sunk down into the plush settee again, one leg bent crookedly between them as he rested his arm at the top of the couch–so that it almost looked like he was about to half-imprison her against him.
He ran his fingers through his hair in a way that seemed to be mirroring his frustration. Sighing, he stared right into her eyes and she kept them locked in return.
"Look, Paige," he started gently, his voice barely audible even amidst the engulfing silence, "This is not about me. You're all that I think about, you're all that I want. And it fucking scares me how I'm deeply and excruciatingly in need of you. But I don't want to seem like I'm taking advantage of you because you're vulnerable right now. Even though I want to kiss you so bad right now like I've always wanted to, I can't," he shook his head briefly, "I just can't do it. I don't wanna be that guy who screws everything up because he couldn't wait." His chin creased, lips tugging down at the corners, with eyes turning glassy as if he was about to crumble into a sob. Except, he didn't. And Owen's hand slid down from the couch to cage her hand in his and said, "I didn't think it would affect me that much when we fell out. You were hurting because I left you hanging while I drowned myself away with alcohol somewhere right after I walked out of your door, thinking if you'd ever take me back. Now, you're here. I can't lose you again."
She'd dragged a deep, shuddering breath at his first few words, in between, and the moment he'd finished. When words wouldn't come up, she'd try to engross herself with tugging something. There were ridges on her brown socks and she haphazardly traced one to keep her thoughts with company.
What he'd said basically made her stunned. It was true, she was a fragile little thing. And when Owen had taken a hiatus from her life, she was nothing but a messy scrawl in this paper world. No directions, no definite plan of action, no intention of drawing something worth the art.
She wasn't aware that while she was crying through the nights, waiting for him to come back and apologize to make things make sense again, he was actually drowning in his own sorrows because he'd just made a terrible mistake.
Her heart honestly softened at the edges at the mere words he'd just spoken.
Quite frankly, this was far from what she'd imagined of him having a plenty of good time with women and his friends at St Tropez. Was she a fool just as much because she hadn't looked into things a lot more clearer? For thinking about what she felt alone, not even taking a second to sit through what Owen might be feeling during those moments?
So when she'd finished the movie all by herself while he carried on excusing himself to light up a cigarette, as if to turn his frustrations away into ashes, she'd soon decided to tell him she'd go upstairs and they both called it a night.
But ever since, she hadn't been able to fall asleep. Only turning and turning in her bed in hopes of catching that slumber dust the lullaby fairies might had scattered in the bedroom.
And when she heard the melodic waves from downstairs, Paige went out of her room and followed where the sound of piano came from. As the sweet tones grew closer, her feet had slowed down against the floorboards as she looked for the right place.
And then there it was. A door left opened that soon led her to the dimly lit studio. She lingered by the door frame and stood there frozen. The piano was positioned adjacent to the door so she could clearly see who was playing there. She stared at Owen's side profile, captivated by the way he'd immersed himself completely into the music–his eyes were closed, his body fractionally pushing and pulling with every change of tune as his arms moved systematically up and down while his fingers smoothly pressed on the keys in quick to slow succession.
Paige almost forgot how Owen had actually been into different competitions when they were younger. No, she almost couldn't recall how he actually played the piano. He was practically coerced by his parents to have piano lessons; even though he claimed to not like it, he turned out to be one with the music which pleasantly surprised her.
It was nice like that. To look at him in plain sight with her unspoken adoration right at the tip of her tongue. Her knees nearly buckled underneath her.
When he was done, Paige didn't say a word. Nor was he aware that she was here staring at him. And when he did turn to her, the air seemed to escape her already corrupted lungs.
When she was in the bedroom, she thought about a lot of things. With Arthur, the kiss she'd shared with Robby, and now with Owen. She'd put up a good fight with the war inside her head, she truly did. Because if she'd look at things in a more technical perspective, she was still into Arthur and she'd kissed Robby back, and that alone was quite reasonable for her not to just dive right into this.
But they were well behind her now. They were a thing of the past to her already.
What was more, though, was that she didn't want to seem desperate for attention. She didn't want others to think like she needed a man to complete her. Because to be honest, she now knew she didn't need one. Her happiness was her own responsibility, not in the hands of other people.
Where she'd constantly told her friends about the value of honesty, now she was faced with the truth and the option of keeping it hidden in a box. Sealed with a lock and never to open it unless if need be. But why did pretending matter? What was wrong in getting it all out of your chest until you were bare to the soul?
Why?
Why would she hide it if she might not live to see tomorrow?
Perhaps she was finding a good reason not to chase the only chance, the second chance they'd both wasted. But ultimately, she knew, that we would regret the ones we weren't brave enough to take.
We thought we were invincible. That we'd be here forever. But we wouldn't. Because we're human.
"Hey..."
His voice was quiet and breathy, and he'd stand up as the look of confusion dawned in his face. At the same time, the sliver of pleasant surprise crossed his eyes, watching her crossing the room rather quickly.
"I thought you were–"
She stood at the tips of her toes and robbed the words out of his lips, wrapped her arms around him with no second-thoughts anymore. He didn't respond as he was obviously taken aback, so she pulled away seemingly out of breath, and looked up at his mesmerizing eyes.
He let out an abrupt breath that matched his surprise. "Why?"
She smiled, arms still hung around his neck. "Because I choose to be happy."
Owen's expression faltered like he couldn't quite believe it. "Paige..."
"Because I'm given a second chance. The effort it took me to get to this point was enormous. I'm here telling you this not because I want you to fill the gaping hole in me, no. I know, with every ounce of my being, that I want you and I can never want enough to kiss you. So now, I'm finally at the other side of my fear. All because I knew you'd be there."
His lips finally quirked up into a fond smile, lashes heavily fanning against his cheekbones as if he was drunk. Fingertips of his carved right into her waist that rocketed a shivering sensation in all of her nerve-endings. "Can you prove that second chance with your lips again, then?"
Her lips tugged up, the arms snaking around his neck nudging him slightly closer.
"Absolutely."