Kiss Me Slowly

A/N

So this is a song fiction for the song "Kiss Me Slowly" by Parachute... Or at least that's what it started out as, I'm not really sure how it came out. It's still in the editing process, so if you could vote and comment and give me feed back that would be awesome:)

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She turns to leave, her blonde hair bouncing as she moves, and I'm struck by the oh-so-familiar feeling of being left behind.

I was never really the most wanted boy in New York, but when it seemed like I had finally found someone who wouldn't abandon me, I would always be proved wrong.

No one stayed. My Dad had went to god knows where, and my mom is six feet under, along with my best friend, Sam.

As for other friends? Hah. You could hardly call them that, all my friends ever wanted was money or someone to help them out from time to time. And when I needed help, poof, they're nowhere to be found. I wouldn't trust them for a heartbeat.

Quality people are hard to come by, especially people like Sam. But that's over now, and there's nothing I could ever do to replace him or bring him or my mom back. So I just don't talk to people. I keep to myself for the most part, the voices in my head are company enough for me.

But she... She has me at a loss for words as she feels her way through the dark across my apartment, stepping over a flashlight. Even if she is only heading home for the night, having been forced to spend the day with me because of the horrible storm that had trapped us in my apartment and had taken the power out.

Something in me snaps as she turns the door handle.

"Don't... go," I breathe, unsure of myself.

Everyone's left me, but she's different... I can tell that much from the twenty four hours I have spent with her, after I found her cold and wet in the lobby of my apartment, lost and having gotten caught in the hurricane-like storm. I took her into my apartment and kept her warm and dry, giving her company for the past day, something that I would have never considered for anyone else. But the first time I looked into her eyes, I knew I just couldn't leave her there all alone.

Maybe this could turn into something beautiful.

She stops at the door before turning to face me, blinking and sending me an unreadable look.

"Don't leave me alone."

"I'm sorry?" she questions.

I sigh a tired sigh, and run my fingers through my hair.

I'm kind of a hollow shell of my former self, you could say. I've been battered and bruised and shattered on the floor enough times to know that I'm not the man I used to be, not at all.

Too many sleepless nights have been spent laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Not even thinking at all, because what is there to think about any more, anyways? The past is the past, and if I know anything, it's that the past is set in stone. I can't help the empty feeling I get in the middle of the night almost every night. I can't feel anything anymore, and that scares me.

Suddenly, I'm struck at how much I yearn for the company of another human being to ease my troubled thoughts.

"I just thought... maybe... I wouldn't have to face the night alone for the first time in years."

I realize how silly I sound , like a child afraid of the dark, but I'm relieved at the understanding and empathy her expression gives away. I know in a heartbeat that she has faced some of the same demons as me.

Nodding, the door clicks shut and she leans against the door frame, watching me.

"Why are you so sad?" she whispers softly with a melancholic smile.