Lotus

Summary:

Beyoncé is reminiscing about the last person who made her feel alive.

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Beyoncé Giselle Knowles
(Pov)

She was a star.

In my eyes atleast.

Sometimes—on nights like this I can't help but think of her.

Nights where I'm finally alone—not being boarder-line harassed by my editor—

Nights where, I'm alone.

I sat on my couch in my studio apartment, I knew I could afford a mansion or a much bigger place but—those kind of houses just make me feel lonely with no one to share it with.

I sat back and blew on my tea reminiscing about before I was famous. Before the "fame" before the new level of stress I was introduced to—before I was lonely.

I loved and hated being by myself.

I could be alone and not be bothered by anyone in my business—but being alone was also a curse. I couldn't distract myself when I was alone. I was uncomfortable in my own company—because I always think back to the person I miss the most.

"Onika.." I muttered under my breath.

I met her when I was 16. I was lost, confused—I didn't feel like I had much of a purpose back then. My parents were split, and were terrible at co-parenting.

I didn't have many friends—more like bad influences. I started smoking—doing shit no 16 year old should be doing.

And then I met her.

She was just as quiet as I was—but she was smart. She made me feel alive—when she came out her shell it was like watching a flower bloom after cold winters.

I didn't realize it back then but—I'm sure now that I was in love with her.

Who couldn't? She was beautiful—she was smart—she was humble—she also put me in my place. She told me to stop smoking—stop hanging out with kids that did nothing but get me in trouble —and focus on school.

"She'd get so mad.."I mumbled.

She would. Some days she wouldn't talk to me till I got my act together. I quickly realized I couldn't go more than a week without her. It was hard—but she helped me overcome my struggles.

I was a rude teenager, didn't respect people—got myself in trouble—I wasn't taught any better. She was my distraction from the craziness I got myself into. She was calm. She enjoyed reading in her garden—it was weird for me back then.

To sit and be calm, not to yell or be yelled at, but to be crowded, not to be high out of my mind—just to sit—surrounded by flowers and the girl that made my heart rate quicken whenever her hand graced mine.

Her favorite flower was a Lotus—it was one of the facts I still remember about her.

She filled that empty space in my heart.

She made me a better person.

I'm not sure if we were even sure what we were back then. We weren't dating but—saying we were friends always rolled off my tongue weird.

We held hands.

We never talked about it. It was just something we did. Whenever she would sit down and read she's hold my hand. Whenever we were alone at night—and we were walking somewhere—we'd hold hands.