Crimson Idol

Two

Song: Begin Again - Taylor Swift

"Well can I sit down?" he asks, his hand rested on the top of the red couch, and there is not possibly a way his hands could be softer, he's looking at me like he knows I'll say yes, as if there isn't a chance in the world that I won't, and there isn't a chance in the world that I won't

I chuckle, my hands fly to run through my hair and getting stuck there, because his eyes were on me, and he was waiting for a response "Sure" I let out

He smiles, and moves around the couch to take a seat. It's sunny out, but all of the light in the shop is radiating off him.

I would think that he wants to sit here to speak to me, but he sits down without uttering a word, and melts back into his book. Staring at him any longer would only make me look as weird as I am, and that was not how I'd like to come off to Harry Styles.

The sun outside is blinding, and even though its supposed to rain today, it is hot. So I dressed in a red tank top and black pants, and kept a sweater in my car. That's another thing i dislike about London, the weather is way too unpredictable 

Harry's eyes trace over every word, slow enough for me to realize that he is in fact reading, even the way he reads is soft. He pulls his lips between his teeth and lets go of them slowly, and they come out pinker than before. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his hair falls to his face once again, he pulls his hand from between the pages and pushes his hair back.

I realize I am still staring at him, so I pull out my journal and start writing, but this time I have nothing to write about, and my eyes keep darting up to him, he does not return the stares, or even acknowledge my eyes, but my eyes aren't the greenest shade of blue, or a forest of evergreen trees under the sun, my eyes are brown, just brown.

I have realized that everybody I have met

has only come close enough

to hear the whistle of the ocean

but not close enough

to watch the waves break

and right before

she opens her eyes

and lays her light upon us

they

are gone

for nobody is willing

to witness this mess

in the daylight.

Last year, I put together an album in the span of three months, I had so much written down from before that writing sessions were not about writing, just trying to adjust it in a way that sounded good, it took us a month to record, and we had it out by April. And now, all I can write about is the ocean and the moon and how not angry I am at anything because nothing matters. Sometimes its almost like there isn't anything inside me to spill, like I can hardly think of two words to speak, and other times all I need is six hundred empty papers and a pen, I could be at it for hours at a time, but it hasn't been like that for months. Caitlin said I should take a break, actually Caitlin forced me to take a break, and here I am in the city of fog and rain and everything that shouldn't be because its summer.

London hates me, I know its stupid to say, but it does. Cities and months and the universe have feelings, they have a choice to make the worst things happen in one place, at one time. Every single goddamned time. December hates me as well. Never mind Christmas and the holidays, December is always depressing.