apocalypse, the answer

19.

DOORS

i slept on the floor of my grandpas piano room. he called out for me a few times when he came back in the house. i didn't answer. i knew he probably wouldn't look here. i heard him go upstairs and that was it. he didn't come down again. so i waited until i fell asleep.

i needed to focus on why i came. i came for this room. surrounded by books and warm memories. the very first place i made music.

it was very special to me.

i only got up to get the bottle of wine outside the door. i tried opening it, but i hit something as soon as i did.

"ow- fuck," he cursed. he was laying on the floor outside of the door. still in his clothes from yesterday. he had an empty bottle next to him. i looked back next to me in the room. so did i.

we were starting to become more alike under all the stress. i think he might've been that way all of the time though.

"why are you laying here?" i asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

"i was waiting for you to eat breakfast," he said it like it was normal. "didn't want to wake you."

i knew i had probably slept in for hours. my whole body felt like an anchor. i was so exhausted.

i stepped over him and walked to
the kitchen.

i heard him getting up. he stumbled all over the place. he had probably already been drinking again.

"you seem mad," he mumbled. "what happened, are you okay?" he asked me, his eyes filling with concern.

i looked back at him in confusion. i could slap him. "what you did...what you said....what you started?" i said angrily.

he lifted his hands in defense, "i am extremely hungover right now. i'm pretty sure i blacked out, i can't remember a thing," he explained grabbing my hand as to comfort me.

i snatched my hand away from his quickly, "you're a mess."

he didn't say anything after that. he just kind of stood there, appalled.

"you're right," he finally said, plopping down in a chair. "please tell me what happened," he said softly, almost begging like.

he looked like the word guilt.

maybe it's best that he doesn't remember. all of the feelings he gave me and my reactions.

i turned to face him, finally meeting his eyes. "nothing," i said blandly.

i took my cold oatmeal and left.

i decided to play the piano. it was hard for me to try yesterday. but today was going to be different.

i played one of my favorite songs that i knew. it was called merry christmas mr. lawrence. it was a beautiful song. and it was snowing. well. lately it was always snowing.

i figured we might freeze to death in here. i started to not care as much.

though it was cold, the piano room seemed somewhat insulated. the keys still worked just fine, only a little bit out of tune.

i gently lifted the cover, remembering my grandma standing in the doorway when i played. it went from random notes of annoyance to full blown songs when i was able to take lessons as a young kid. they were always so proud.

i pressed down on the keys and slowly got lost in the music. wherever i went when i played, i liked being there. it was wonderful place to be. just me and the music. nobody on earth could take that feeling away from me. not even my sadness. not even the memories.

"beautiful," i heard from behind me. i didn't move. i just started playing again, ignoring him. this time it was claire de lune.

"you're shivering," he said in between notes. i didn't care. we were going to freeze to death eventually.

i jumped when i felt him pull my hair from my shoulders just like he did yesterday. this time to sit his coat on me to wear.

while he did he paused. his fingers brushing over my skin on my neck.

"i kissed you here," he mumbled. "sorry for that," he apologized, brushing his thumb over the skin on my neck. i'm sure there were little bruises there. i didn't feel them though. i didn't feel anything.

i didn't answer. i kept going. yiruma this time. do you.

"did i do anything i shouldn't have?" he asked. he sounded very small. like i could just stick him in my pocket or something. it wasn't like him.

i shrugged and kept playing. he kept his hands on my shoulders. "did we like...you know..." he cleared his throat.

"no," i finally snapped, turning around to look up at him. "we did not fuck. we just..." i remembered what it felt to kiss eli when i looked at him.

he looked so pure. like he cared. but i knew that couldn't have been true.

maybe he was just really drunk...maybe he didn't mean what he said.

"whatever i did i'm sorry," he explained with a sigh. "i won't drink anymore. not like that. not when you're around," he said gently, kneeling down so we were at eye level.

he took both of my hands in his. "i want to remember you," he said. "i don't want to forget anything. i'm sorry."

he seemed sorry. he looked sorry. he was being genuine. and last night he seemed that way too. so i didn't know what to believe. liking someone like him was like a roller coaster of emotions.

"we kissed," i said clearing my throat. "a lot."

he looked surprised. "was it good?" he asked. he looked uncomfortable suddenly. like awkward.

i smiled, looking down. "perhaps."

he rolled his eyes, "you suck."

i shrugged, and i turned around and started to play again.

THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE END.