So, for months they wrote, they wrote music together. She never talked to him about anything substantial. It was more in the way that she held her stares, the timid glances she felt compelled to steal. He watched her eyes dart away from his as, afraid of him noticing her interest. It was the same every night; after a long day of composing he would walk her to her hotel, and wait. Wait for the night she would invite him in...it never happened.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
JC watched her shoulders move as he walked behind her. He knew she had to be tired, it had been a long day of strenuous re-writes. It was days like those that were the hardest on both of them. When a change was made to even one note or syllable she took it personally. She didn't like the idea of someone changing her thoughts.
He watched her walk and he felt the lust build up inside him. It wasn't a sexual lust, it was a need in it's most innocent form. He couldn't explain what he felt for her. He wanted to know her, know what she wanted, know what she dreamed, know what she loved, but he was afraid to ask. Scared of what he might find. As she came to her door, she turned to him.
"Well, we're here, good night" she spoke quickly turning away from him. He acted fast.
"Actually, do you think I could come in tonight, and talk?" His question took her off guard. She turned to him, her mouth gaping open not knowing how to answer. "All you have to say is yes or no" he commented softly, taking her hand gently into his. She stiffened as she felt his skin meet hers.
"Yes" she whispered, looking at her feet. He grinned and carefully took the key from her hand, unlocking her door. He stepped aside letting her enter first. He stepped into her room as if a child walking into the doctors office for the first time. Her room was spotless, something he expected from her. He ran his hand over the thick red blanket that was draped over an armchair, a gift from her older brother. He sighed and watched her fidget as she sat down on the couch. He took his seat beside her.
"Well..." he started trying to make the most if the inherently award moment. "Matt was interesting wasn't he? I've never worked with him before."
"I don't like that man" she abruptly, turning to him. Her voice was so sure and confident that it took him off guard. "He's not a good person, he thinks to much of his own work. He thinks everyone should appreciate it."
"Whoa, where did that come from?" he mussed. She smiled at him, the first time she looked directly at him. He watched her pale blue eyes cloud over.
"No, he's not very tactful is he." She nodded her head agreeing with him. That was when he decided to do it. The thing that would propel both their lives for years to come, and action that would have unimaginable repercussions. He reached over, brushing her hair off from her lips, cupping her cheek in his hand. Cicel's eyes were wide and his face moved close to his. She felt the heat of his breath on her mouth, and she had a chance to stop him, but she didn't.
As he pressed his lips to hers, she didn't respond. His kiss was gentle, as if asking if what he was doing was OK. When she didn't oppose him, a different kind of kiss met her lips. Sending passions never felt before through her body. He pulled away slowing, looking at her. Seeing her understand what he had done, what a bold step they had taken, and he whispered the words for the first time. "I love you" he uttered, almost wanting to leave it unspoken. Wanting it to be nothing more than overwhelming feeling that they both could acknowledge.
"I know" she said back. She searched his eyes trying to find the unconditional in the statement, and she did. She found the unrestricted caring and truth to his words.
: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
It was an indescribable combination of enigmas that made him so completely infatuated with her. His thoughts about her were simple, simpler than anything in his confused life. She was frail, so frail that he had trouble touching her sometimes, afraid that her soul would crumble in his arms. She was a little crazy, or so he always thought, she didn't think like other people, she was incapable of it. Over time the way she came to look at him re-affirmed everything the felt for her. As their relationship blossomed, the one night became two years and she became open to him. He started to see her for who she really was.
Late nights on the tour bus were the worst, the early hours of the morning would creep ever closer and she wasn't there to be with him. More so; he wasn't there to protect her from the world. He would lay awake, and the aching in his heart would grow larger and dominate his thoughts. Tears would slip from his tired, red eyes, and fall down his cheeks onto the empty pillow. His tears didn't fall because he missed her, or he couldn't be with her, he shed them for a much more selfless reason. He knew that the pain in his heart wasn't even a silver of that constant agony that she lived with. He knew that her pain came form nothing more than existing, and there wasn't a thing he could to help her. He was her focal point. For him it was being so completely entwined with another that words, a body, physical touches weren't needed. Just a consciousness of each other's love, and knowing that he would lose her someday.
He missed the feeling of her head lying in his lap, and he could stroke her hair and tell her things would be OK. And the words he would whisper weren't motivated by anything other than love. He would tell her that no matter how he didn't' understand her, it didn't matter. Because he didn't need to understand to love. She would cry, tears of joy not sadness. She would kiss him and tell him that he was her world, and he was all she needed. She would touch him, and a touch expressed a thousand things words couldn't. And at night, he would hold her, feeling her body rise and fall to the rhythm of a different drum than anyone else's.
For all this he fell in love with her.
And so it was...but not forever.
So I found my way back
Said I'd never go back
After all that we've gone through
What more is left to do
Surely you know
We've got a long, long way to go
If it starts to snow
Well then it starts to snow
If we feel it go
Then we should let it go
I know this little place
That's big enough to hide
And if we stay real close
We both can fit inside
And if we losed control
Then well, we lose control
Part Three