nine things || lrh

Eighth Thing

I couldn't find a lighter. I hid it with the cigarettes.

I hid them from Luke.

I told him I stopped smoking.

I wanted him to be proud of me.

I was lying to him. Just like I was lying to myself when I said I had no problem.

That this isn't an addiction. Irony.

I was sure I had hidden it behind the dresser that stood under the TV. The lighter wasn't there.

Fuck.

I have matches in the kitchen.

I tripped. I tripped over the guitar stand. Fucking guitar stand.

Guitar. Slightly damaged. His first love.

༻✧༺

"I'll never learn"

It was evening.

No.

More like a night. Late at night.

He wanted to teach me, but I don't think I had a talent for it. Or maybe I wasn't feeling like doing it.

He was a terrible teacher or I was a terrible student.

I couldn't tell him about it.

"You have to try a little harder" he changed the arrangement of my fingers on the strings.

"So stop fucking yelling at me. You're stressing me out."

"I'm not screaming at all"

"Sure you just speak loudly"

"Sometimes I'm sick of you" I laughed.

"Well me too, Mr. Impatient" he laughed.

He had good intentions.

Only his nerves were weak. Small imperfections.

He showed me a few chords.

But honestly? I didn't remember any of them. He tried so hard. He did it with such passion.

"Sit between my legs"

As I did it, he rested his chin on my shoulder. He adjusted my hands again.

"Oh yeah, now I starting catching it"

I wasn't.

I lied.

There was something lovely about the way he tried to teach me.

Was I a bad girl? Was I a bad human? I just wanted to fuck with him a little. Was it bad?

"Can you repeat at least the three chords I showed you?"

I turned my head.

He raised his.

Those eyes. Those blue eyes of his. I still couldn't get enough of them.

The way the skin around his eyes wrinkled slightly as he smiled.

Those little things.

"Oh sure. No problem"

He was surprised.

My confidence. Always disappeared somewhere or was hiding somewhere in me. It just came out with the first glass of wine.

"So please. I'm waiting."

He leaned back.

Show time.

Please don't be angry.

I jerked the strings. The guitar made a terrible noise. Almost painful for the ears.

I repeated this several times.

I was having too much fun.

I turned around. I put my hand on Luke's thigh, looking at his disappointed expression.

"Was it good? Can I join the band now?"

He didn't want to. He tried his best. I saw it in the muscles of his face.

He didn't want to smile.

Fail.

"I can't fuckin' deal with you"

"I thought you love me"

He tickled my sides at belly level.

From laughing I slid from the couch to the floor. I held the guitar tightly, hugging it against my chest.

Asshole.

He got up and took his guitar from me.

Rude.

"Hey, I'm not finished yet. Come back here" I tried to get up.

I was breathless due to laughter.

"But I finished" he put the guitar on the stand next to the TV.

"You're terrible"

I took the glass of wine from the glass table.

My favorite white wine.

"Well you're not perfect too" he took my glass away.

Rude.

"I wanted to drink this you asshole" I hit him lightly on the leg.

I was terrible. He helped me stood up.

"I have to be honest. You aren't a good musician"

"No shit, Sherlock" we laughed.

༻✧༺

I loved it. Us. Our relationship.

Everything that was related to us. With him.

How did I deserve him?

I wish.

I would like to change that.

I wish I could spend more time with him.

Platonic.

To have more of these memories.

I want more.

I regret.

It's a pity he didn't teach me more often how to play the guitar.

I regret.