||A short story that was inspired by the Eraserheads' song - "Ang Huling El Bimbo"||
She moved her body gracefully into the soft, sultry music that played in the background. He watched, mesmerized by her grace and beauty whenever she was on stage.
...
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A few weeks away from home have made Gray frustrated with Harley's decision not to come with him. It may have been an abrupt plan but it was the only way to keep her close. In a few month's time, their second album would be released which meant it would be impossible for Gray to come back home for a visit.
Gray ran both hands through his hair in an attempt to calm his pounding headache. The band was still rehearsing and they had been at it since this morning. He just wanted to go back to their apartment and call Harley. She hadn't been responding to his texts and answering his calls. He was worried sick that something might have happened to her.
"Yo, Gray! Stop moping around and come inside," Sinn called from the back entrance of the studio. The quick break he took didn't suppress the worry he felt. Standing up, he dusted off the dirt on his jeans and went inside with Sinn.
Sinn put his arm around Gray's shoulder and gently asked, "What's up with you lately?" He treaded lightly because he knew that Gray was going to go on defense mode.
"Nothing," he mumbled.
"You better leave your personal problems out this studio. Peter is going to have our heads if he catches us slacking off," he patted Gray on his back. A small gesture which meant that everything was going to be fine. Sinn walked ahead, leaving Gray to his own thoughts for a few more seconds. He definitely needed to focus.
After their rehearsals, the band quickly retired to their shared flat. It had been an exhausting day for them. Gray tried to dial Harley's number again but to no avail. The holidays were coming in three weeks. Unfortunately, Peter just got them a deal to perform at the biggest music festival in California for a winter special. There was no hope for him to visit her and his family.
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♪ ♫ ♬
Harley stared at the offending sheet of paper, unable to process the news. There were a bunch of numbers and words that only the doctor could relate to. But, one word stood out...
Positive (+)
"You are already 8 weeks into your pregnancy. So far, your hormone levels are all normal and the baby is doing well. I'll be prescribing you some prenatal vitamins for you take every day," he scribbled on a prescription paper, signing it off and handed it to Harley.
