Our Song

It Only Gets Better

"Do you think we could ever get married?" Art asked. This question had run through his mind day in and day out for months now.

"Married? That sounds lovely. Too bad the laws prohibit that from ever gracing us." Paul thought about the future they could have together. It seemed so pleasant, but so far away.

"We could fight for it. People have been fighting for years for their rights. Why stop now?" Art hugged up to Paul.

"I think it is insanity that we have to fight in the first place. Isn't this supposed to be the land of the free?" Paul agreed.

"Yeah." Art nodded his head in agreement.

The summer air brushed against their pink cheeks. The days were simple. They would sit on a park bench and just observe everything around them.

The feeling of the sun rays could put a smile on anyone's face. It definitely plastered a grin on their sad faces.

"Just imagine holding a bundle of joy in our arms. Wouldn't that be magical?" Art continued on with his fairytale story.

"I suppose so. When the time is right of course." Paul shrugged at the thought of children, at least for now.

"Why did you become gloomy all the sudden?" Art asked wondering about Paul's sudden change of attitude.

"I just don't know about children yet. Can't we party a bit longer?" Paul was trying to come up with a convincing excuse for not having a baby.

"You partying?" Art burst into laughter. Art's laugh tugged at Paul's bent corners.

"Well, I'm just not ready yet." Paul's shoulders sloped downward.

"I didn't mean now silly, I mean later. I am the one who has to get his partying years over with." Art snickered.

"Hilarious, Arthur." Paul grinned.

"I love to see it when you're happy. You have been so down ever since you've been struggling to pen any songs." Art commented on the behavior he had picked up on over the past few weeks.

"Yeah, but they're coming back to me. I'm getting some good lyrics and tunes." Paul stuck his hand in his pocket, and it deposited his notebook. "If I had my guitar I could probably continue writing this one." Paul projected an almost finished song.

"You think we could provide music for the Graduate then?" Art asked.

"I don't know about that. I don't like the feeling of that deadline. I need my songs to spill out of me naturally." Paul expressed his distaste for accepting the project.

"You've got a neat song there for it." Art selected the hardly written Mrs.Roosevelt Paul had been working on.

"There aren't any lyrics to it, it's just bare bones. I can't put that in a movie." Paul declined. He needs it to be perfected before the director even set his eyes on the first sentence.

"So, I like it. It would be a splendid addition to the movie, I guarantee." Art gushed over the one song.

"I've still got to write an album. Screw the movie." Paul bit his tongue.

"Okay, whatever you see fit." Art was disappointed, but it couldn't be a huge loss.

A prickling feeling surfaced on Paul's right shoulder. The shadow tapped his fingers to the beat of the song.

"What could you possibly want?" Paul was pulled out of reality.

"You're going to leave him disappointed again? After all, you've been through." The shadow groaned pretending that it was invested in the conversation.

"He's fine with it. It doesn't hurt us." Paul snapped back at the shadow.

"Don't let him take you!" Art screamed from the outside. Paul was too distracted to hear him.

"It hurts him." The shadow pulled an evil grin.

"I told you. Artie doesn't care all that much. It's a stupid movie." Paul growled. He resisted the urge to pounce on the shadow. It would just result in humiliation anyways.

"A stupid movie! You're losing your chance to make money!" The shadow teased.

"You of all people should know that I'm not in it for the money." Paul rolled his eyes on how ridiculous the shadow was being.

"Eh, it's not like you'll listen to me anyway. You'll do anything to get your way." The shadow walked into the sunset.

"Keep going!" Paul yelled before jolting out of his trance.

"You've got me worried sick about that hallucination. I think it's time to see a doctor." Art clasped Paul's trembling fingers.

"I think I'd like that. Anything to get this out of my head." Paul wished to be free from this hell he was cycling in.

"You're finally saying yes!" Art's eyes sparkled in anticipation.

"It's got me so exhausted. I want it gone." Paul waved his hand as if he was signaling a cloud of smoke out of his face.

Of course, the doctors determined that there was nothing wrong with Paul. They checked for schizophrenia and delirium, but neither of them was present. Paul had mild depression, but nothing too serious.

Paul was heart was broken. The shadow would not be trounced.

"You don't get it. I'm with you for the rest of your life." The shadow wasn't happy with Paul.

"I would rather have schizophrenia then have you around!" Paul yelled at the dark entity.

"I don't think you would. That is a harrowing mental illness. I am a better companion." The shadow cackled.

"You're winning!" Paul sobbed.

"You don't need to tell me that." The shadow lit a shadowy cigarette.

"Paul, are you okay?" Art erased the tears falling down Paul's face.

"No, I wish they diagnosed me with some stupid mental illness. I have to live with this thing for the rest of my life." Paul admitted defeat. He was done fighting this losing war.

"We can work something out. I wonder if some breathing exercises will help you. I really hate seeing you like this. I want you to be happy." Art vented all the feelings he felt.

"It's making you just as miserable as me. I don't want you to suffer anymore at the hands of me." Paul gripped onto Art's sweater.

"I'm not suffering. You've made me the happiest man on earth." Art showered Paul in kisses.

"You're too good for me." Paul sobbed.

"Stop that, you're going to make me cry." Art chuckled with tears welling up in his eyes.

"Don't cry." Paul wiped the tears away. "Don't ever cry again. Not for me anyway."