Reverie [Bruno Mars - Editing]

Chapter fifteen

Chapter fifteen

Bruno was frowning in concentration, his eyebrows drawn together with his eyes closed. It was interesting to watch, and I imagined him this way while he was making music. He still looked tired. His clothes crumpled; the curls on his head thick and unruly. . . I thought he was beautiful and it was frustrating. I wondered where his fedora had disappeared to, he wasn't wearing his jewelry either with the exception of the thin, gold chain that laced around his neck, the crucifix hidden in the V of his shirt. Bruno opened one eye. “You're staring at me.”

“Yeah.”

“I can't do it with you staring at me.” He rocked back and forth on his heels. “Turn around? Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head, my back against him. “Just keep trying.”

“I can't do it, Adrian.”

I faced him again and he shrugged as if saying *I can't.* “You can,” I assured, tapping the side of my forehead with my finger. “The key is in here, remember?”

“How did you even find that out?” he asked.

It was my turn to shrug. “I don't know. I just figured since this place surrounds what's going on in your head, they placed the key in there. Technology goes wireless, I guess.” It bothered me how well I was getting to know this place. Maybe this was where I belong, I pushed the thought away instantly, but the mind is really its own labyrinth: single thoughts, as if they're keys, lead to goals, opening doors. “So,” Bruno started. “don't picture the door opening?”

“Picture whatever opens the door,” I said. “That's your key.”

He asked quietly, “What's your key?”

I looked away from him, feeling his eyes on me like a light touch. “Um,” I began.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” he said, just as quietly. 

“I want to tell you.” And I really did want to. I started rambling. “My mom. She's my key. It's weird, actually, because whenever I see her I can't see her face. Either her head is tilted, her face is blurred or her hair's in the way and I'm scared Bruno.” I took a deep breath. “It's like I'm forgetting her. Like my dad.” I raked a hand through my hair frustratingly. “But who's memory is that bad? Absolutely no one's.”

He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head a little to the side. “What happened to your dad?”

“He died when I was three, from an accident. My mom never kept pictures of him, I guess she didn't like the memories.” I disregarded the dull ache in my stomach. “I don't know what he looks like.”

Bruno was silent for a moment before speaking. “You know I'm scared too.” He looked as though he wanted to say something else but quickly stopped himself, his mouth opening then quickly closing. He looked away from me, seeming to be deep in thought. “What's your key?” I said softly, and his eyes fell closed. Just seconds later, there was an indistict grinding sound as the door slid open a couple of inches. Bruno looked at me, wide eyed, and cursed in surprise.

I glanced at the open door in amazement. He opened it way faster than I ever did. “You did it!” I rushed to the door and started to drag it open, pulling at its edge. “What's you're key?” When Bruno didn't answer, I turned around to look at him. He was staring at me in stunned silence. “What?” I asked, a little alarmed. “What's wrong?”

He shook his head slowly, gaining his composure. “Nothing,” he breathed. “It's—It's nothing.”

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