GUYS LOOK WHAT HAPPENED TO ME ON GOAT SIMULATOR I'VE NEVER LAUGHED SO HARD EVER
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"No, Maricruz, that's not -- there's not such thing as an 'H' key."Luke runs a hand through his quiff, and he sighs. There's a small smile across his lips, though, but I feel guilty for being such a slow learner. He taps his foot four times, before cracking his knuckles and dancing them across the piano again. "Okay, so the first bit goes G, F#, B, E, okay? The little black key over here is an F#."
I press it experimentally. "This?"
He nods. "Yeah."
I play all the notes over again, in order. Despite being instrumentally illiterate, I can play Welcome to the Black Parade pretty damn well, now.
At this point, I'm beginning to ponder whether Mara leaped out of my bathroom window, as she hasn't left it in twenty minutes. The last time I checked, she was tugging on her Halloween costume in the bathroom downstairs, and yes, I give it to her that perhaps a red spandex Lady Deadpool costume may not be the easiest to slip into, but come on. I couldn't leave the house with someone else in there, and my therapy session began in less that fifteen minutes. I touch a few more keys experimentally. Really, I shouldn't even own a piano -- the only one who plays that lives in the house is Alejandro.
Although I don't look up, I can feel Luke staring at me. His gaze is soft as always, but his lips stutter and he turns away. This time, I look up, and put my hand on his forearm.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Nothing." He shuffles around on the piano stool, almost pushing me off it accidentally.
"No, seriously, tell me."
I imagined he would respond once again with 'nothing', but he's silent for a while, running his fingers through his risen hair and running his tongue over his lip ring. His eyes won't meet mine; they train along the piano keys stretched out underneath our hands.
"Luke?"
"Is it okay if I ask you something?" he says quietly.
I nod, but my pulse advances. I hide my hands under my thighs.
"Did you and Michael break up because... because you kissed Scout?"
I emit the breath I held and press my forehead against the cool surface of the piano. I don't want to hear about Michael. His name bursts into my stomach like fireworks -- I taste them along my lips, but the flames hit my lungs like five packs of corner shop cigarettes. I want to remember the way he grabbed my neck, the way he blamed me, the way he put me down, the way he gave me the wrong medicine. I want to remember him as the horrible things he has done. For every sin there's a piece of love. There's the little lovebites he left all over my throat, and the way he let me stay at his house to be alone, and the way he pulled up his shirt and reassured me he was 'like that too', and when he promised to put me through university so I could be a lawyer. I swallow back the tears. Nothing goes right. Never.
