Sound of Love

Chapter 2 - Just Ten Minutes

This was like a dream, everything was almost unearthly. It was like I had imagined the whole thing, how our songs mixed to make a new song that was so much more than one song alone could be. Alone.

I will not let him be alone.

“You have a beautiful voice,” I say, my smile widening slightly, hoping to reassure him with frivolous words.

“I could say the same.” His eyes were a deep, soft gold.

How rare.

“I was unaware anyone knew about my hideout,” I said blinking, finally starting to think things through.

“I don’t think anyone else does.” Just us.

“I’m sorry though,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Excuse me.”

He sounds somewhat rigid.

“Don’t be silly. Who am I to kick you out?”

He chuckled softly, slightly shaking his head and looking down. “With my luck, probably the owner,” he says as he lifts just his golden eyes to me, smiling. He looks down again, chuckling once more before shaking his hair out of his face and lifting his face to stare at the ceiling, pulling in one long breath.

“You have outstanding luck,” I mumble, thinking how technically I am the owner, or at least his daughter.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, looking at me expectantly.

“Hm? Nothing.” I respond quickly.

He looks out at the lake, seemingly accepting my answer, and I let my eyes follow his. I feel my body slump onto one of the nearby pillars as we stare out at the lake together.

“Why are you here?” I hear his voice.

“I come here to get away from the silence,” I keep my face blank as I continue to watch the dance of the sun upon the lakes tinted face.

“And you?” I glance at him.

“I come here to get away from the noise.”

And that was enough.

********************************************************

After sitting quietly with my stranger for an hour or two I returned home, hoping to avoid anyone noticing my absence.

We had sat silent most of the time, I read my book as I had intended while he sat watching the lake. I saw he had a book in hand, which he chose not to read. At one point he fell asleep, one hand over his broad chest and the other by his side with his book. I had taken the chance that presented itself to me. I had walked out over to where the lake met the land and picked up one of the many flowers still blooming. I had returned to his sleeping side before placing the stem of the flower over the hand on his chest, I had then carefully removed the book from his other hand before placing the book next to him and lifting his hand over his other.

He had looked positively Disney.  

I laughed to myself thinking of his sleeping face with the flowers bud just under his chin.

And now to return to the silence of home. I used to hope that I would get used to the sound of nothing, but that was a long time ago, and I have learned to hope for more realistic things. Like world peace.

I hesitated slightly before the grand door of the ‘magnificent’  house. I forced my hand up, just above the familiar doorknob, but my hand refused to make contact. It shook slightly with the force of my indecision.