Falling Slowly

vi. him

saturday, december thirteen, twenty-fourteen

• • •

he took the steps
two at a time
at a quicker pace
than he usually did.

• • •

he fumbled on the last step
nearly tripping
and falling to the floor;
his hands tightening
on the two guitar cases
in his calloused hands,
and almost dropped
the little mandolin case
under his arm.

• • •

when he glanced up,
he caught her looking,
ruby lips curved into
an amused smile.

• • •

he had to look away.
not a blusher,
but that didn't stop him
from feeling the embarrassment
that came with it.

• • •

yawning, he sat
on his appointed
side of the couch.
less subtly
than the week before,
he pushed his acoustic case
towards where she sat,
criss-crossed, textbook
and notebook on her lap.

• • •

the smile on her
ruby red lips
grew wider.

• • •

unable to help it,
he gave her another
curious look.
it had only been
a few weeks since
she arrived.
but she was a wallflower
and blended into the
worn-out couch in the front,
and only he seemed to notice her.

• • •

he didn't understand why.

• • •

her hair wasn't in a messy bun,
like it usually was.
he realized it was piled up
to keep from falling into her face
when she plucked at the strings
of his guitar in deep concentration.
today it was an ebony curtain,
falling in pin-straight lines
until it hit just below her chest.

• • •

something was off.
there were dark circles
underneath her eyes,
still prominent under
the faint layer of makeup she wore.
she kept yawning,
scribbling away at her notebook.

• • •

when she caught him staring,
he coughed and slouched back,
and she pushed her hair
to one side,
blocking out her expression
from his own.

• • •

the four hours
of music rehearsal
that came with the
seasonal show
were sometimes painful
and agonizing.

he had done
so many shows before;
sometimes,
the hours felt like a day,
and it took all he had
to get through
the time.

• • •

it seemed that now,
the hours went by
far too quickly.

• • •

around two, he felt
the usual urges
and he dug a hand
in his pocket
for his pack of cigarettes.

before he had
a chance to rise,
something pulled him
back to his seat.

• • •

he glanced to his right;
her eyes were closed.
he could her her light snores
as her head rested
in the crook of his neck,
the pressure gentle
on his shoulder,
fitting perfectly
like a missing puzzle piece
in a one thousand piece set.

• • •

his eyes widened;
glancing around,
he saw that no one
had noticed,
busy in their own
conversations.
in their own world.
not his.
not hers.
not theirs.

• • •

with a small sigh,
and a pinch on the bridge
of his nose,
he relaxed back into his seat,
moving closer to where she sat,
so that she might be more comfortable.

• • •

he guessed he could
go for a smoke
later.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

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-Isabelle