Point of View: Krystal
I inched down the stairs. Nick had never come up and it was almost midnight. I'd been listening for him to go by the door, because I needed to know he was there. The house felt big, empty, scary without knowing he was there. I felt like a little kid with a night light they needed turned on before they could go to bed. Nick would save me from the monsters under the bed.
As I descended the stairs, I could hear the sound of a guitar playing quietly coming from the living room. The light glowed out the door, warm and amber. I peeked around the door jamb. He was sitting on the couch, back-to me, hunched over a guitar. He'd pluck a string, curse, then try again. I inched closer.
"This is my... my... Damn." He tightened the key on one of the strings. "This is myyyy..."
"What'cha singing?" I asked quietly to announce my presence.
Nick glanced over his shoulder, "Writing," he answered.
"You're writing a song?" I lowered myself at his feet on the floor and laid my cheek against his knee.
"Yeah," Nick answered.
"Can I hear?" I asked.
Nick gnawed his lower lip, "I dunno, I haven't got the guitar chords figured out yet..."
"Please?"
He picked up a notebook and stared down at the hand writing. "Okay, but ...it's not done, remember that."
"Okay."
"I'm just gonna read it, cos I dunno how to sing it yet," he added.
"Okay."
Nick cleared his throat.
What's wrong with your head
Every time I look around
You're somewhere else instead
I wanna ask you why
But every time I try, you cry
And I want you to know when you're floating in space
And I want you to know if you ever come back down
And I need you to know
I wanna breathe you
I wanna feel you near
I want to see what you see
When you cry those tears
This is my confession
And every time I come around
Something's always got you down
I just don't understand why
But if you want to tell me
I'll be the angel on your shoulder
I'll be the man that you can confide in
This is my confession."
I stared at him.
"That's all I got so far," he muttered, pushing the notebook away.
"You should record that," I whispered.
Nick nodded. "I'd like to. Maybe the fellas will have better ideas about how to get the notes to work for it..." he mumbled.
"No," I said, "You should record it yourself," I clarified, "Alone, solo."
Nick's eyes traveled up to mine. "Solo? Me?" A tiny smile crossed his face, "Yeah right."
"No you should," I insisted, "You've got an amazing voice and - well, you're hot..."
Nick laughed.
"What better time than now?"
Nick rubbed his chin. "Yeah..." he said quietly, "It would be a lot of fun. I have a few things I've written..." and suddenly he'd come alight with passionate excitement. "Oh dude, dude, you gotta read this one, check this one out..." and he shoved the notepad at me again, flipped to a different page.
I smiled and started reading his work. He was so excited, the grin on his face made the horror of the day slip away slowly but surely as I was welcomed into the warmth that radiated through him and filled the room. I ended up sitting on the couch next to him, leaning into him while he played gently.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
I looked up, "Why?"
"For this," he said, "For caring about my work." He smiled.
Maybe I couldn't give Nick a watch, but I could give him time and attention.
"Hey Kryssie?" he said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"I have one more confession," he whispered.
"What's that?" I asked.
Nick leaned forward enough to kiss me and said, his breath warm on my cheek, "That song was about you."
