Do you remember when we met? It wasn't anything special, I know. I didn't think to mark down the date on my calendar, simply because I didn't know it would be so important. It was at that old music store, remember? It shut down last year; no one's ever heard of the songs they sell now.
It smelt like dust and age, if age has a smell. It does according to you. You has these huge, bulky black headphones, and I could hear your music from across the room. I was kind of scared at first, I'll admit. I thought that the tattoos that lines your arm were beautiful, but the lip ring put me off a little. You had your hood up. You looked scary.
I had never seen you in the store before, and the store was my home, with the music that no one remembered and the distinct smell of old. So I decided, because I recognized the song you had on from across the room, that if you came back I'd say hello. Perhaps I'd ask you why your hair was blue, or what CD you bought when you left the store. Maybe, I thought, we could be friends.
You came back the next day. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't waiting at that table in the corner, watching the door with sweaty palms. I realize now that I was doing that thing you pointed out, the nervous habit, the tapping of my fingers. I could hear your music again. It wasn't a song I recognized this time.
I remember, I didn't ask you why your hair was blue, or what CD you bought when you left the day before. I asked you what song you were listening to.
I don't think I've ever told you how terrifying that moment was for me. I couldn't stop shaking, and my palms were practically soaked. My hair (which was not blue like yours) was plastered to my face, and there must have been some sort of monster eating my stomach.
But I also remember, while we were standing in front of a row of my favourite CD's, that you pulled those completely impractical headphones down to your neck when I tugged at your baggy sleeve. And you didn't laugh when I stumbled over a few of my words, and when I got the question out you just grinned, lip ring stretching, eyes crinkling, and I don't think I've ever seen someone so beautiful.
You weren't very scary in that moment. And I was a little bit speechless when you pulled your headphones off and put them over my ears. And really, the song was very pretty, but not as pretty as you.
The music store seemed to be our hideaway. A place where I was we. We would sit at that table, the one where I was always shaking, and you'd give me your impractical headphones and I'd give you my considerably smaller earbuds. Those first few days we didn't talk at all, and I think the employees found us strange. And then I gave you my earbuds one day, and you had them in for not even half an hour, and your eyes started to shine, and your hands turned to fists in a motion I now know was sadness, and I didn't know what to do. Then you broke that invisible barrier, and you came to the other side of the table and you took me in your arms I suddenly felt very safe. I don't usually feel safe, you know.
Did you know how much I wanted to go outside with you? Is that why the day after you didn't have your headphones with you? Did you know that music was my crutch? Is that why you held my hand when we walked down the street? Is that why you didn't mind when I started shaking?
I wish I had marked down the day we met.
Your hair was always changing colours over the years. I think your hair has been colours that I don't even know the names of. Your hair was still blue when you met my parents for the first time. They seemed so happy to meet you. Do you think they knew that we knew they were watching us? That we saw their little smiles when you hugged me goodbye? They told me later, after you were gone, that they didn't mind the tattoos or the piercing, because I didn't shake as much when you were with me.
Your hair was red when you graduated high school. You were a year older than me, so I had to wait, but I was at your graduation. I remember, your parents seemed to know that you were the only one who didn't make me shake when they touched me. Did you talk about me? Did you tell them about the shaking? You were grinning when you got your diploma, and your classmates seemed a little shocked. They must not have known how cute you really were.
Your hair was purple when I graduated. Did you dye it that colour because it's my favourite? I think you did. I was shaking when I got my diploma, and I think I was about to cry. But you were in the front row with your purple hair, and you started mouthing lyrics at me, my favourite lyrics. You must have done that on purpose too. I think I offended the principal when I refused to shake her hand, but it was okay, because you were laughing.
Your hair was yellow when we moved in together. We were at the same university, the arts one that I got a scholarship for. I remember, the apartment was always filled with your paintings. They were all over the floors, but never on the walls. Why did you never hang your painting on the walls? And I remember, that you used to take me as often as you could so I could practice the piano without disturbing the neighbours, and you'd sit on the bench beside me and lay your head on my shoulder to keep me from shaking. I was always shaking. Why didn't I shake when I was around you?
Your hair was blue again when you went missing. I remember, you went to buy some headphones, because I had lost mine and yours were broken and music was the only thing that kept me from shaking when you weren't around. You took the keys with you, from that little bowl on top of our poorly made shoe shelf, and you hugged me, and then you were gone. You haven't come back yet. People have started telling me that you never will.
And I'll have to ask you where you went when we meet again, because I can't find you anymore.
And for some reason, I can't stop shaking.
