Take The Night Away 3

It was the first morning he stayed. He felt it was a right thing to do and he had no plans anyway. So they crawled out of bed somewhere around 1 p.m. and agreed that coffee with sugar indeed is profanity against good taste.

―How did you find out about me? - he asked, sipping at his coffee slowly.

―Well, - she climbed onto the counter and he wondered if it's a usual thing for her, sit on the furniture originally not designed for it. - Honestly, I was at my student's flat and your music video was playing on the TV. The one setted in Paris, where you just go around the city doing nothing but...

―Okay, I got it, - he smiled a little upon her exaggerated manner of talking. Looks like she sees the things she talks about around herself and just wants everyone to see them too.

― So you don't have your own TV-set?

―Nah, - she waved her hand around. ― That mind numbing apparatus? I don't want it. So your little secret could've stay safe a bit longer, but fate stepped into the picture.

―You believe in fate?- his voice was quite but serious.

―To a certain extent, yeah,- she said looking him in the eyes.

They shouldn’t rely on fate that much, but it’s always nice to have some higher power which can turn your life in the right way. Hopefully.

***

―Why aren't you sleeping? - he asked, upon returning to their bedroom. He couldn't remember the exact moment when this room become ‘their’.

She shifted lightly under the covers and sighed restlessly.

― It's just... I'm afraid to fall asleep.

He laid carefully next to her.

―Afraid of not waking up?

― Nah,- she covered her eyes with her palms, - I'm afraid of waking up and realizing that my life is a nightmare. All over again.

He thought about it for a moment.

―Well, it couldn't be that bad. You have me, - he attempted to smile.

She removed her hands from her face and looked up at him

― Yeah, we have each other, but it's not what we really want.

― But for now it'll work.

― Sure, - she agreed, turning to the side and closing her eyes. It was nice not to sleep alone after all. It was nice to have someone whose heart hurts just like yours. They couldn't mend each other, but they could suffer together.

***

He disappeared for two months and she knew where he's been. Not from him, from music journals. France. Arctic Monkeys. Collaboration on stage for some songs.

She decided to watch that one concert from Olympia, Paris, where they both were on stage.

She hoped he is doing fine. She hoped he's having a good time with this Alex, who he can't seem to stop ranting about once he gets drunk. There was a difference between her heartbreak and his. She buried her feelings, she doesn't have a slightest intention about ever getting back with Ed, she knows better than being his 'back-home local girl' who should be kept under radar.

Miles loves his best friend and only blind won't see it. Alex must be blind then. He keeps coming back, one call and he's on the other side of Europe doing this mini tour thing. It could be ridiculous if only wouldn't be so sad.

***

Their dates might seem to casual and ordinary for an outsider. Just late night walks, just quite evenings at his house with him playing guitar and her drawing. She used to draw him. A lot. He used to write songs for her. They still do it, but apart from each other.

She knew far damn too well when he got together with Ellie. How couldn't she? It was all over music channels and internet. May be that's why she doesn't watch TV these days. Especially music channels.

Ironically Miles has to be musician. 'Not all musician necessary has to break your heart', - she told herself.  Especially if their heart is long gone for some dorky Sheffield boy with long limbs and raspy voice.

Take The Night Away 2

- You're amazing, - he sighed heavily, when she rolled off him.

- Thanks, - she smirked, catching her breath. - You aren't that bad either.

She smiled contentedly, upon covering herself with a thin blue blanket. He hummed, dropping its other end over his bottom half.

- Are all artists so good at sex? - he asked playfully.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, spreading her black hair over his chest.

- Maybe. It comes from practice, though.

- Assumes you had a lot of practice than, - he mused, picking at her hair absentmindedly.

- Yeah, you could say that, - she said through a yawn. He looked down at her and patted her head.

- Go to sleep, sweetheart.

She laughed quietly and pinched his stomach.

- Nicknames, Miles. Don't go all affectionate on me.

He just smiled, hugging her shoulders. Long after she fell asleep, he was looking at the ceiling above them that had phosphoric stars painted on its dark surface and thinking about the one he used to call 'my soul' and mean it. Like, bloody mean it.

***

They were at the studio, right there at her apartment. She finally gathered up the courage to ask him to pose for her. And just maybe she has a thing for his hands since their first meeting.

- You could've asked earlier, you know, - he said nonchalantly, sitting in the leather armchair by the window.

- But where would be my manners? Drawing someone I've only met? - she asked, while rummaging through her supplies scattered all over the table in the far corner.

- Fucking me at the first date wasn't too ethic either, - he smiled, resting his head on his hand. - Damn, it wasn't even a date, - he said in a sudden realization.

- Right, - she rolled her eyes, glancing at him. - You just showed up at my porch like some creepy stalker.

- Considering my profession I know a lot about stalkers. And what I did wasn't creepy or stalker-like in the slightest.

- It was, - she said plainly.

- But you fucked me either way, - he said, considering this thought for a moment.

- Stop repeating it! - she cried out, throwing a piece of crumpled paper at him. - Sounds like I'm the one with a dick here!

He was shaking with laughter by now. And it was also one of the reasons he keeps choosing her over other girls. The way they always joke around, the way their conversations never go too serious or personal. The way they never talk about their past or even present, for that matter. It's like the world outside doesn't exist.

- And maybe I have a soft spot for creepy stalkers? You could never know,- she said, preparing the canvas now.

- That's where the practice came from, I guess.

They smiled at each other.

- Okay, - she announced,- enough of crap-talking. We got some work to do.

***

And when she said 'work' he didn't realize it would be work for him as well. Admittedly, sitting in the same fucking pose for what seemed like years is a work. A hard one.

At least, they still had a small talk over it. He told her about how annoying journalists could be and how he's getting tired of their unoriginal questions. She listened humming here and there.

When she finally announced they're done, he might have exploded from all the pent up energy he had.

- May I see? - he asked, standing up eagerly.

- No, - she answered, hastily covering the canvas with a cloth. - Not yet, Miles, - she added more calmly.

She looked somehow tensed up and exhausted so he decided to ask her out for a dinner.

- Is there any chance of it being displayed at the gallery? - he asked, when she accepted his offer.

- Only if we both will like it in the end. And...if you're giving a permission, of course.

- But why wouldn't you like it? - he asked once they were out of the studio.

She glanced at him, measuring the amount of seriousness in his eyes.

- Well, you're an artist yourself, Miles. Musician, but the artist all the same. Do you always feel satisfied with what you write?

They were walking through a corridor towards her bedroom.

- Of course not.

- See. You should be pleased with your own work, so you could handle other people judging it,- she said, opening the door.

He looked around her room. In the light of the day it looked slightly different.

- I need to change and then we could go, - she warned him, walking to her wardrobe.

- Should I...- he gestured to the door.

She shrugged, turning her back to him.

- It's not necessary though.

So he stayed.

- Aren't you afraid of someone seeing us together? - she asked, linking their arms.

They decided for walk to the nearest restaurant where she was a regular.

- There's nothing to be afraid of, - he answered nonchalantly. - You should feel lucky though. It might boost your popularity. Get you more followers on twitter.

- Oh! - she exclaimed dramatically. - I could never thank you enough.

He laughed, noticing a few people across the street taking photos of them already. And it goes like this.

***

―Songs are one of a few creations that could be perfect. Sometimes you would hear one and…that’s it. It strikes you to the bones. You just know that it’s perfect. Each pitch, every word and every pause is in its own place. And you wouldn’t change a single note in it, cause you can’t make it better.

Her unfittingly enthused voice echoed through almost empty bedroom. They lay on the mattress in the middle, discarded earlier clothes scattered around them. She usually gets talkative after sex, he got to notice that. Talking to her was almost as pleasant as having sex.

He didn’t say anything this time. Not because he wasn’t paying attention or didn’t want to share his own thoughts on the subject. But he felt, that this time, something important was about to be said. So he just hummed approvingly while kissing her knuckles.

―Some people could be perfect too, - her voice was tinged with melancholy. ―Sometimes they could be songs. Or books. Or paintings. Perfect in their own sufficiency.

―But only something you love could be perfect. Or someone, for that matter,- she added after a short pause.

Though he couldn’t see her eyes at the moment, he knew they were sparkling with the shadows of past.

―Who’s that person? - he asked after a few seconds of silence.

―Hmm? - she turned her head to him.

―The one that was perfect for you.

She closed her eyes, smiling a little.

― The boy with red hair, tattooed arms and the most charming smile ever.

He smirked.

―They all have charming smiles, aren’t they?

She gave him that knowing look again and shifted closer, wrapping her arms around his middle.

―Sure they do, - she breathed out unevenly. 

Take The Night Away

He was standing in front of a picture, studying it carefully. In general, it was some kind of explosion. He was sure of that. Its epicenter was pitch black, then, cascading from it were small pieces of shattered glass, mixed with thousands of other different objects. Flowers, books, lips, some dots and spangles, stars and sunsets, splashes of red here and there. Even a little house and a black cat in the corner.  From the first sight it looked like a huge funnel and under further examination you would be able to pick out all these items.

―Care to explain? - he looked at the girl next to him. Maybe she was the art student or something.

―Everyone sees it differently, - she said, knowingly.

―Well, how do you see it?

She shifted her gaze back to the picture.

―Blackness in the center,- she began, furrowing a little,- resembles the remnants of a broken heart, which turned into a black hole of some kind, sucking in all the memories and plans the lovers had, turning them into nothing.

―That’s how I see it, - she added cheerfully.

Miles cleared his throat looking at her. She definitely has to do something with visual arts.

Before he could say anything, someone called her and the girl left, smiling at him apologetically.

―You got to talk with the painter, - said Phil approaching him with two glasses of champagne in hands.

―She is the artist? - Miles looked at him disbelievingly. Phil nodded.

Well, that kinda explains her awareness about the meaning of the picture.

- It's called "Her Favorite Nightmare", - he said in a matter of fact tone, when he saw that girl, the author of all this now, approaching him. He couldn’t figure out why the portrait of some red-haired guy could be someone’s nightmare.

- That's what the badge says. So, yeah, - her voice was light and playful.

- Reminds me of something...- his voice trailed off and soon was muffled by the chatter around them.

- Yeah, I know what you mean, - sly smile found its way into her face. - Arctic Monkeys album. Good record, actually.

Upon saying this, she seemed to forget about the man by her side, zooning out into her own world. Miles eyed her with a curious squint.

- Do you like them? - she asked suddenly, turning her head to him and meeting his dark eyes.

Miles blinked at her, shaking his head lightly. He hasn't heard from the one and only front man of a so not subtly mentioned band for three months. It was reflecting on his nerves and mood accordingly.

- Yeah...- he snapped out of his daze. - Yeah, they're quite awesome.

Miles averted his gaze back to the picture, giving her a perfect opportunity to study him. He pretended not to notice it.

―This is really good. All of these, - he vaguely gestured at the walls around them.

She shrugged.

―I wouldn’t be so general about it. Some of it, yeah.

―A bit of self-criticism never hurt, - he assumed.

―Definitely.

She wasn’t flirting with him. Miles could recognize flirt, he sees it a lot. Maybe, she doesn’t know who he is?

Sounds appealing.

Some boy came rushing to her, mumbling something about Bred being late.

―Okay, - she sighed and turned to Miles.

―It was a pleasant chat…- she began.

―Miles, - he extended his right hand.

―Miles, - she repeated, shaking his hand. Her grip was firm and her fingers were cold. ―I’m Emily.

―Nice to meet you, - he said, smiling.

‘It could be the beginning of something interesting’,- he thought, watching her leave.

***

Soon after their third so-called date, she learned that he wasn't the owner of a music shop back in Wirral. But she couldn't blame him for lying. In her eyes, it was an attempt to hide. So she could respect that. And after all, he sells music. Who cares if it's his own?

- True romance is what I'm after darling, - she sang imitating his voice after opening the door that evening.

He stared at her, wide eyed, for a couple of seconds, before hanging his head with a tired sigh.

- I guess it had to happen sometime.

He had a bouquet of some red flowers with him. Delightful smile spread across her face.

- Is it for me? - she holds a hand to her chest in exaggerated amusement.

- Um...Yeah, - he gave her a puzzled look.

- Sweet, - she smiled at him briefly, then grabbed the bouquet and retired into the flat without so much as a "Don't stand there all day" directed at him. Miles furrowed a little, trying to find some logic in her actions and failed. But he likes the way she occupies his mind, her jokes and irrational antics. That's why he keeps coming.

He closed the door and took off his shoes. Her flat smelled like oil paint, dried fruits and clean clothes. Not many things have changed since he's been here last time.

- What brought you here? - he followed her soft voice into a small but fancy kitchen. She was perched up on the counter, her thin legs dangling from it. A vase with flowers was already placed to her left.

- We haven't met in like...- she cringed while calculating the amount of time he hasn't showed up, - in a year and half?

- Yeah, something like that, - he shrugged meekly, leaning into the wall.

- Shit! And I haven't even gave you a proper hug! - she shook her head disapprovingly.

- You could always make up for it later and give me a proper orgasm.

She laughed lightheartedly.

- I was hoping for it, actually.

No uneasiness or awkward questions. Maybe she could see what he feels. Like she did the first time. See that he's still broken and missing that one person who could've fix him.

- I haven't googled you if you're worried about it, - she said after a few moments of them studying each other, taking in the visible changes.

- Why? - he looked genuinely surprised, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets.

She hopped off the counter, slowly approaching him.

- 'Cause I've met you in person and I want to keep knowing you in person, - she grabbed the collar of his leather jacket, bringing her face to his and breathing in his scent. - Not as some fame trashed celebrity, who wears designed clothes and falls over pretty boys.

- You said you haven't googled, - his hands stopped, holding her waist.

- It's just general assumptions, - she said despite that knowing look in her eyes. - Am I right then?

- About designed clothes thing, - he smiled lightly, placing his hand on the small of her back and pulling her closer. - What's wrong with it though?

- Nothing, - her face was few inches away from his. -As long as I can take it off you, - she said, sliding the jacket off his shoulders carefully.


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