What she needs...is the boy
A slam of the door, followed by a soft curse and a whispered ouch, interrupted the playful and breakable song he had been composing and playing on his guitar. He had been working on this song for her for weeks now, inspired by her childlike wonder and her endless love, but he knew this wasn’t the right moment to tell her and this wasn’t the right moment to play it for her. He was used to it by now. Nothing ever went according to plan since they had been together.
Of course, the first time she slammed the door, followed by a soft curse and a whispered ouch, he had been flabbergasted and totally clumsy. Which resulted in making the situation escalate even more and it had taken him days to fix everything again. To fix them again. Nowadays he knew that he had five seconds to put away his guitar and to pretend that he had been doing nothing and was all hers. Luckily it didn’t happen too often and often enough she returned the favour when he didn’t get the part he had been auditioning for.
When she entered the room he saw the familiar expression on her face. The wonderful mixture of sadness and furiosity, of rain and thunder, of fire and water meeting each other far from peacefully in her eyes. The first time he had seen it, it had scared him to dead, but nowadays he knew this was her weakest state of mind. The state of mind in which her strong and proud attitude was fighting to hold itself together and on the point of losing it.
He had seen it coming the past few days. It had been partly the reason why he had been playing his guitar which he knew would take the least time to put away. It always happened when she was stressed, because she wanted to be perfect and didn’t believe she didn’t have to be, tired, because she barely slept because of worry and pain, and something small went wrong during the day. He had been prepared since a few days, but it always overwhelmed him for a brief second again when the real moment was there.
Everytime it happened it hurt him again to see her like this, knowing that there was nothing he could do to actually help her. He had tried everything, but eventually he had found out that just letting her be was the best thing to do. She would become furious when he’d given her advice. She would probably kick or hit him when he would tell her it wasn’t this bad. And she would probably run away when he would try to distract her. It had taken some time, but he knew exactly what she needed and he knew she would sooner feel a lot better if he would do exactly that.
So he caught her in his arms a few seconds before she broke down into endless crying. He kissed her on her forehead and pressed her as close to his heart as possible. If she couldn’t hold herself together, he would hold her until she could again. If she lost herself, he’d make sure he could lead her back home. If she needed him, he would be there, always.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to hold yourself together. Just let it go. Just cry. It’s okay. I’m here now.”
Of course, the first time she slammed the door, followed by a soft curse and a whispered ouch, he had been flabbergasted and totally clumsy. Which resulted in making the situation escalate even more and it had taken him days to fix everything again. To fix them again. Nowadays he knew that he had five seconds to put away his guitar and to pretend that he had been doing nothing and was all hers. Luckily it didn’t happen too often and often enough she returned the favour when he didn’t get the part he had been auditioning for.
When she entered the room he saw the familiar expression on her face. The wonderful mixture of sadness and furiosity, of rain and thunder, of fire and water meeting each other far from peacefully in her eyes. The first time he had seen it, it had scared him to dead, but nowadays he knew this was her weakest state of mind. The state of mind in which her strong and proud attitude was fighting to hold itself together and on the point of losing it.
He had seen it coming the past few days. It had been partly the reason why he had been playing his guitar which he knew would take the least time to put away. It always happened when she was stressed, because she wanted to be perfect and didn’t believe she didn’t have to be, tired, because she barely slept because of worry and pain, and something small went wrong during the day. He had been prepared since a few days, but it always overwhelmed him for a brief second again when the real moment was there.
Everytime it happened it hurt him again to see her like this, knowing that there was nothing he could do to actually help her. He had tried everything, but eventually he had found out that just letting her be was the best thing to do. She would become furious when he’d given her advice. She would probably kick or hit him when he would tell her it wasn’t this bad. And she would probably run away when he would try to distract her. It had taken some time, but he knew exactly what she needed and he knew she would sooner feel a lot better if he would do exactly that.
So he caught her in his arms a few seconds before she broke down into endless crying. He kissed her on her forehead and pressed her as close to his heart as possible. If she couldn’t hold herself together, he would hold her until she could again. If she lost herself, he’d make sure he could lead her back home. If she needed him, he would be there, always.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to hold yourself together. Just let it go. Just cry. It’s okay. I’m here now.”