Through Your Notes

Sunday

Sunday

12.02 a.m.

"Do you write your own songs?" I ask.

"No." You shake your head.

"I thought I saw some music sheets with you yesterday? And, you seem like you were writing something?"

"So, I see you have been stalking me." You smirk.

"No." I say, sternly. "I was just observing you for my sketch."

"Yeah, right." You laugh.

"Why not?" I ask. "Why don't you write your own songs?"

"I am still learning."

"I think you're amazing."

"How so?" You scratch your head. "You've never heard me play."

"I know so." I chuckle.

"You're really something, aren't you?"

I shrug.

"Where do you live?" You ask.

"Miller Residence."

"Oh." You coo. "Of course you do."

I nod.

"You make me forget that you're The Miller sometimes."

"What do you mean 'sometimes'?" I ask. "We just met yesterday."

You chuckle. "Right..."

I chuckle too. "Where do you live?" I ask.

"By the lake."

"Sorry, what?" I frown. "The lake?"

You pat on a black bag. "I sleep in this sleeping bag." You look at me. "I ran away from home."

"Oh." I coo. "Why?" I ask. "If you don't mind me asking?"

"My dad wants me to be something I don't want to be."

"And, that is?"

"An engineer, just like he is."

"What do you want to be?"

"A musician."

"You'll be a great one."

"I know." You smirk. "Except, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No."

"Tell him that it's your dream."

"It's not that easy, K." You say. "It's always easier said than done."

My heart skips a beat. You call me 'K'.

I haven't heard anyone calling me 'K' for a long time.

Only dad called me that. But, I don't mind.

I like the way it comes out from your lips.

It sounds nice.

"K?" You wave your hand before my eyes.

"Ye - yeah?" I turn to look at you.

"Did you hear what I say?"

"I'm sorry." I laugh. "What's that?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Are you?" I ask.

You nod. "Heck yeah."

"Then, me too."

"What?" You laugh.

And, I laugh too.

"Hey, Nathan."

"Hmm?"

"Would you like to spend the night at my place?"