Look East | A Hozier Fanfiction |

25

Birds chirped outside Molly's window, soaking up the late afternoon sun. She watched them, contemplating going downstairs or not. Her conversation with Andrew had rolled around in her mind for the entire day and she wasn't sure where to go from there. She had power over him, whatever that meant. She didn't ask him to lust after her for five years. She was pretty clear that she could only give him certain things, and he'd accepted them on his own.

He said he cares too much, she thought. There's no way he let me come here just because he thought I could use a jaunt to the countryside. I can get that in fucking Sonoma. And he knows it. He knows I came back to see him for a reason. Doesn't he?

She'd been trying to get a read on him ever since she'd arrived three days beforehand and she kept getting mixed signals. One second, he was smiling and flirting with her as he's cooking dinner and the next he's going on a date with another woman to force distance between the two of them. He was maddening.

He did say that date meant nothing, she reminded herself. But the whole point is that he was actively letting another woman put her grubby paws all over him. WITH YOU BACK AT HIS DAMN HOUSE, she added.

"What the fuck do you want, Andrew?" she whispered, chewing on her bottom lip.

"I can come back," Andrew's voice made her jump.

"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed. "You could fucking knock, you know!" She took several deep breaths, placing her hand over her pounding heart in an effort to slow it down.

He stood in the doorway holding a flat box in one hand. "Your door was open. I thought it was an invitation," he said simply, not even trying to stifle his laughter. He sat on her bed and held the box out to her.

"What's this?" she asked, unfolding herself from the armchair in the corner and walking over.

"Your Christmas present," he said.

"Andrew, I haven't even had a chance to get you anything yet!" she said in annoyance. "Plus its like two weeks to Christmas. You're early."

"You don't have to get me anything, Mol," he told her. "Just getting to spend more time with you is enough of a gift." She glared at him. "Alright, if you have to get me something, make a donation or something like that in my name. Or a book. Something practical."

"I'm not sure where you'd put a book at this point, Andrew," she said, taking the box from him. "You're full to bursting here."

"Look, do you want your gift or not?" he asked in mock annoyance.

"Yes, but why can't it just wait?" she asked, fingering the rough twine tie.

"Because I wanted to give it to you in private, not in front of my family," he told her. "Open it."

She sat next to him and pulled the string from the crisp white box. Underneath the lid there were several sheets of paper with Andrew's scrawling writing on them. She could see where they'd been carefully torn from a notebook or journal. Words were crossed out and rewritten. Notes were scribbled in the margins. The title had been scratched over several times before a final one had been chosen: Shrike. She looked up at him as she flipped through the worn pages.

"What is this?" she asked.

"The original lyrics to Shrike," he said softly.

Molly began to protest. "Andrew, I can't take this!" she said, holding them out for him. "These are priceless. They're yours. Why would you give this to me?"

"Because its your song. You inspired it. You gave me the melody for it. Its half yours," he said simply. "I don't know when I'll get to see you in person again. And if anything were to happen to me, I'd want you to have them. So I figured I'd give them to you now and save the time."