Harry H.S

two

On my way to the kitchen, I passed by my sister whose face was pressed against the leather couch, "wake up," I yelled lightly, throwing a pillow I picked up from the ground.

"Why," she sobbed, so she wasn't sleeping.

"Break up with him already," I offered.

"It's not that easy, I love him," she mumbled, pressing her face further down the couch.

"Pretty sure love isn't you crying every single night after hanging out with him, because you found that he cheated just yesterday," I admitted to her. "Your relationship is very very toxic, it won't get any better if you don't just end it with him."

"The hell do you know! Your last relationship only lasted for two months," she yelled, before sitting up abruptly staring at me with her bloodshot eyes, she threw the pillow back at me hitting me on my torso, before standing up and stomping her way to her bedroom. Slamming the door shut behind her.

I shook my head in disbelief.

"Whatever," muttering to myself, before picking up the pillow and placing it back on the couch.

After putting away the grocery and eating a bag of popcorn for dinner, I decided to get ready for bed. I showered and changed into some pajamas.

I walked out of the bathroom turning my body to face the door that leads to my sister's bedroom putting up a middle finger. "Ugly," poking out my tongue before walking to my bedroom.

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Just before tears escaped my eyes out of frustration, the loud music played loudly next door. Damn, I can't even cry in peace

Knocking on the wall, I yelled for him to stop. Guessing he heard it, since he made the music louder. After wiping my nonexistent tears, I made my way through my window and the fire exit until I was in front of his opened window. Wrapping my throw blanket over my shoulders, hugging myself tighter. The cool wind of the Washington air stings my skin.

This is far out of my comfort zone, hell I'd rather go to the police station and ask for help about opening a jar of mayo before I even think about asking a neighbor to do it. But currently, I'm not in the mood to be dealing with loud music. I want my peace and quiet, with my sobbing being the only thing I hear.

I knocked on the window before his attention turned to me, he waved hello before urging me to enter the room. As if on cue it started to sprinkle, quickly I entered his room.

"Can you please lower down your music," I begged, once I was in. Giving him a slight smile, he said nothing but continued to tune his guitar.

"I have a gig tomorrow night you should come by," he said, before strumming down on his guitar. Satisfied with his work, he finally looked up to me.

"Give me a little sample, and I'll think about it," I told him, sitting on his bed as he sat on the chair by the desk. The room was small, it had a queen bed on one corner, and a desk on the other, right next to it was the door that leads to the living room. I'm guessing that this wasn't even supposed to be a bedroom. The lights were off, except for the blue fairy lights that's nailed on the wall all across the room.

There were pictures on the wall of him with other people, and band posters next to them. And on the wall behind the desk was a shelf, filled with books and a devil's ivy plant on one side that keeps the book from standing. A candle lit on the desk, that illuminated his face even more.

"Alright, deal. This one is called sweet creature" he winked at me, before focusing his attention on the guitar, strumming down to start off. His eyes closed shut, as he let his hands do the strumming, he sang the first word after 10 seconds of strumming. And boy was I swooned.

It lasted for 40 seconds before he stopped abruptly "you'll have to come to my gig if you want to hear the full song," he teased.

"That was actually really good," I whispered, smiling at him. I never knew that someone as talented as him lived in this building. Considering it's mainly pretentious sons of bitches lived here, aka me and my sister.

"Thank you. You should definitely come by, it's at John's Pub, open for all ages. Well just that one night," he choked out.

"How old are you even?" he asked, out of the blue. "You seem too young to be living in an apartment with your best friend," he continued.

"Sixteen, I turned sixteen just last week, and not best friend but sister, she's 21," I admitted to him, forgetting why I was in his room in the first place.

"You sing beautifully by the way," complimenting him again, his hand reaching the back of his neck obvious that he was blushing.

"Thank you, I'm trying to get a record label, my agent has set up a meeting with some producers and directors, wish me luck," he nervously laughed.

"Will do, though, as much as I would love for you to practice. I would appreciate it if you take it down a notch or two, I'm trying to sleep," I begged, before standing up ready to leave the room.

"Wait, I have one more song," he said.

"What time is it?" I asked, in which he answered with it being half past eleven at night. I let out a huff, "it's not that late I guess," I shrugged my shoulders before sitting back down on his bed.

I took off the slippers I was wearing before bringing my legs up and pulling it close to my chest. I leaned back until my back was pressed against the wall, before resting my head on my knees and giving him my full attention. I nodded my head, signing him start. He nodded his head eagerly, before fixing the way he sat and started strumming again.

"This one is called, From The Dining Table," he starts off.

I closed my eyes momentarily, bopping my head lightly to the song. "Don't sleep on me now," he chuckles during a short guitar solo, making me smile.