Excerpt for Love is Simple, Life is Complicated: A Love Song Story by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Love is Simple, Life is Complicated: A Love Song Story

Copyright 2017 Michael P

Published by Michael P at Smashwords

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He was a boy. She was a girl. Could it be any more obvious? -Avril Lavigne, Sk8ter boy.

He was listening to that song on the radio during his drive to the first day of his Senior year in High school. He was a handsome boy--none of the girls in his school would argue that. Still, he had never been on a date, not since seventh grade at least. He mostly kept to himself these days. He would always sit in the back right corner of his room. Kids would steal glances at him, laughing and whispering. They would talk about how he dressed funny or how strange he was.

She heard the same song come on over the bus’ radio as she rode to school. She was a pretty girl, popular too. She was only a Junior but everyone in the school knew her name. She went on dates all the time; they never went anywhere. She was always sitting in the front of the room, asking questions constantly every class. Kids would stare openly at her, laughing and whispering. They would talk about how badly they wanted to be her, or fantasize about being her friend.

He was a year behind in spanish. She was a year ahead in math. As a result, they both shared those classes this year. Odds were the two of them would never notice each other. She would never look towards the back of the room; he would never look towards the front. Though if they did indeed never meet, there wouldn’t be much of a story to be told.

He went to his classes sparingly over the next couple of months. He would often skip, hanging out with some of his friends who were also skipping or perhaps just hanging out on his own. When he showed up, it was rare that he paid attention. Class was boring. He had a much better time doodling and twiddling with whatever he could find around him.

She missed only one day over the next couple months. She had a fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit. She tried to go to school that day but her mom wouldn’t let her. She even snuck some ice up to her room to try to cool the thermometer in secret. It didn’t work. Class was exciting. She spent the entire time with her full focus on the teacher, learning all kinds of new and fascinating things.

One day, he decided to skip spanish class. It was first period and he had been up late the night before. He had been up late because he had been fighting with his best friend. Not a lot of people really got him, so the fight really upset him a lot. He didn’t feel up to going to class. Instead he would hang out at his favorite spot in school; a section of stairs in the back of the building that came out behind the art room. It was very rare that someone else would come by down there. It was out of the way if you were heading pretty much anywhere.

She was a perfect student, but even perfect students couldn’t be in class all the time. On this particular day, she had to go to the bathroom. She raised her hand and asked, saying “may’ and not “can.” The teacher agreed. She went out, but the second floor bathroom was closed due to some plumbing issue. She would have to use the one downstairs instead. She was in the back of the school, so the quickest way would be through the art room. She didn’t use these stairs often, but they would get her to the bathroom and back to class in no time at all.

Hey there weird kid in your high top shoes, sitting in the back of class I was just like you. Mr. Misunderstood: (I understand). - Eric Church, Mr. Misunderstood

His voice echoed up the stairs that he was singing below. It echoed beautifully, in perfect harmony with the rhythmic notes sounding out of his guitar. It echoed straight up and carefully played into her ears. She stopped for a moment, standing on top of the stairs. She closed her eyes. She opened them again and attempted to peer down the stairs. Then, finally, she walked down them.

She turned towards the bottom of the stairs. She saw him there, eyes closed, strumming away on his guitar. His face looked peaceful. His hair was wild. He opened his eyes. They widened as he saw her. Immediately his hands stopped playing, his voice stopped singing. She told him not to stop; that his music was beautiful, the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. He smiled and said thanks. She had a huge grin on her face as she rushed away to go to the bathroom.

That moment marked a change in patterns that had previously seemed unchangeable. He, who had never looked towards the front of the classroom, now glanced constantly forward at the smooth, silky hair of the beautiful girl sitting in the front row of the classroom. She, who had never dared to let her focus wane during class, found herself glancing back repeatedly at the boy with the unkempt hair of the boy who seemed to care for nothing but his music.

She was finding it harder and harder to focus in class. He was finding that attending the class everyday made paying attention much easier than he had ever been able to previously. In all this time, in all these stolen glances, the two of them never dared to speak. They never dared to acknowledge what they surely were feeling. They were content only to know that they were in the same room as the other.

Strangers waitin’ Up and down the boulevard, their shadows searching in the night. Streetlights, people, Livin’ just to find emotion. - Journey, Don’t Stop Believin’

He was listening to an old CD when the song came on. He had, naturally, heard the song many times before. Still, this time as he listened he closed his eyes. He began to listen to the lyrics, to the message the song was sharing. He bobbed his head to the rhythm as he listened. As the song finished, he smiled. He thought about the girl he had met. He didn’t get much sleep that night.

Don’t stop Believin’. Hold on to the Feelin’. -  Journey, Don’t Stop Believin’

    He was listening to the song for the hundredth time as he arrived at school the next morning. He was early--a feat that had not yet been accomplished in his nearly four years of attendance at that particular school. He wandered the hallways paying close attention to each passing person. Five minutes later, he found her studying with a group of friends.

    He approached them and attempted to say hello. Her friends laughed. They asked why he would be talking to her, why a pathetic stoner had any interest in their study group. She said “See you later, boy.” Her condescending tone dug straight down into his heart. As he walked away, broken-hearted, he heard tell her friends about what a creep he was.

    She kept glancing back at the empty desk. Spanish class was second period that day, but he wasn’t there. He was in his favorite spot, at the bottom of the back stairway, jamming away on his guitar. He was playing as loudly as he could, with no concern for who may hear. She was yelled at by the teacher for staring at the back of the room. It was the first time she had ever been yelled at by a teacher.

    The second time she was yelled at a teacher was for the same reason as the first; however, it was in math class instead of spanish. After the teacher reprimanded her she asked to go to the bathroom. She walked straight past the bathroom towards the back of the school. She opened the door to the back stairway.

    And I need you. And I miss you. And now I wonder if I could fall into the sky, do you think time would pass me by? ‘Cause I’d walk a thousand miles if I could just see you, tonight. - Venessa Carlton, A Thousand Miles

    The song blasted her back, causing her to close the door. Slowly, she opened it again. It was beautiful music, as she had quickly come to expect from him. She sat down on top of the stairs. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the music. She never went down to face him, only sat there on top of the stairs.

    For the next few days, he never went to class. She asked to go to the bathroom for the first two days, but instead went to listen to his music. The third day, she didn’t even bother to show up for class. She went straight to her spot on the top of the stairs. He, like always, was already playing wonderful music from below her when she got there. During those days, he had gained a distant sorrow in his voice that hadn’t been there previously. She began to walk down the stairs. She turned the corner and saw him, eyes closed with a peaceful smile. She lingered for a moment. Without a word, she turned around and headed back up.

    The next day both she and he showed up for class. They didn’t have a choice; there was a test that day, an important one. She spent the entire time trying to glance back at him without getting caught, trying to see if he was looking at her. He spent the entire test determined never to look up. He focused intently on every single question, trying to focus on anything except for her. His determination was strong; not once in the entire period did he look up. As they left the room, she rushed towards the back to see him. He was already gone.

    She went to math class that day, knowing he wouldn’t show up. For the first twenty minutes she remained engaged. She was answering questions with her usual perky attitude and paying close attention to every word the teacher spoke. She was even taking notes. But when she looked down at those notes, she saw that somehow they had just turned into a drawing of the boy playing guitar. She started glancing back at his desk, then staring. She asked to go to the bathroom. She walked over to the top of the stairs.

    Another day goes by. We can’t live like this anymore: can’t live without love. - Descendents, Without Love

    As always, the music overwhelmed her a she began to open the door. This time, instead of sorrowful his voice sounded angry, frustrated with the world around him. She sat there for a minute, listening to his music. She couldn’t help herself anymore; she began to slowly, one-step-at-a-time, walk down the stairs. Eventually she rounded the corner. She saw his peaceful face. She began to turn around but instead proceeded down a few more steps. He opened his eyes. They widened. His hands stopped moving. His voice creaked to a jolting stop along with the final echoes of the guitar.

    He asked why she was there. She told him that she was sorry, that she couldn’t stay away. She told them that listening to him playing the guitar and singing was the most incredible thing that she had ever experienced. She told him that she wished she had been brave enough to stand up for him in front of her friends, but that it wasn’t easy. He smiled. He told her it was okay. He told her that she had just said everything he had ever wanted to hear. He leaned in to kiss her. She embraced him as his lips met hers. They both closed their eyes and, for the briefest of moments, forgot about the world.

    She pushed him away and rushed back to class, too embarrassed to say a single word. He stayed behind and began once more to strum on his guitar. He would go to class again tomorrow; now was a time for music. She stopped at the top of the stairs to listen.

    Time stands still. Freeze this moment a little bit longer: Make each sensation a little bit stronger. - Rush, Time Stands Still

    Those were the words that she heard as she stood at the top of the stairs. She stood up there for a long while, appearing to be mesmerized by the wonder of the song. She closed her eyes, wishing she could stand there forever, wishing that the song he was singing could shape reality. She returned to math class for the final five minutes, spending its entirety staring back at the empty desk in the back row.

    That night, she went home and her parents wondered why she was happier than normal. They asked her if her spanish test went well. She replied that she isn’t sure. They exchanged worried glances. They reminded her that her studies were of the utmost importance. She told them not to worry, that she would be fine.

That night he went home and played guitar all night. His mother considered telling him to stop, telling him that he should be focused on studying but then she saw that the smile on his face remained even when he wasn’t playing. She couldn’t argue with that. She had noticed for awhile now that that smile had been missing except for when he was playing his music, ever since his father passed away. She had still yelled at him many of those nights for paying, wanting him to find happiness in other places as well. Today she decided to let him play. Something must be going right. That was what his mom figured.

The experience slips away. The experience slips away. - Rush, Time Stands Still

The schoolgirl in love found it to be a strange coincidence that the song came on the radio the next morning right as she got on the bus. She smiled as it finished, loving the song the whole way through. Her life was wonderful. She was frozen in the magical moment of first love. Plus, they would get their spanish tests back today. Grades always helped her mood; she always got As.

She got a B on the spanish test. She looked down at her desk with an expression that mixed shame and horror. She hadn’t gotten a B since the fifth grade. Her parents had grounded her for a month then. She glanced back at him. He was smiling,

He had gotten a B on the spanish test. He looked at the test with a massive grin. He had never dreamed that he could get such a good grade on a spanish test. He hadn’t gotten a B since the fifth grade. His parents had been so proud of him that night. They had even put it up on their refrigerator. He couldn’t believe he had gotten another one.

After class, she pulled him aside. She pulled him over, under the stairs. There she told him that this can’t happen, that they can’t be together. Her grades, she said, were suffering already. It’s been two days, he offered his rebuttal. I can’t she explained, my parents would kill me. Then they’re bad parents, he said in return. She stormed away, calling him pathetic. He stayed there and played some more music.

When he got home, he found that his mother was much more proud of him now then she had been in fifth grade. His mom patronized him, telling him how happy he was that he had turned his life around. He said she didn’t get it; that it was dumb luck. He wished that grades like this were just a normal thing for him, that no one would care. It was hard when no one expected anything of him.

She came home and found her parents in a frenzy. Her dad wouldn’t speak to her. Her mother was ready to kill her. The two of them shouted back and forth, arguing about what her life should be like, arguing about her future. She wanted to die. She wished she had never gotten all the good grades she had. She would give anything to be a below average student. It was hard when people expected so much of her.

    And Loves dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves. This is our last dance. Under Pressure. Under Pressure. Pressure. - Queen, Under Pressure

    He was listening to the song before spanish class the next day. She was surprised to see him sitting there when she walked in. She stared at him for a minute. He refused to look up. He was determined to change, determined to be better than her. She decided it best to ignore him. She was better than him, after all.

    He was in math class too. That time, she couldn’t keep her focus. Once again, she found herself constantly glancing backwards, not capturing a single word the teacher said but capturing every little movement he made. He paid his full attention towards the front of the class. He never looked at her, at least not when she could see.

The stress between the two grew. For the next week, he refused to acknowledge her and she refused to acknowledge him. They knew it couldn’t last. They knew nothing would change if they didn’t talk. They couldn’t bring themselves to do anything. She went home and cried in her pillow every single night. He stayed up late, watching tv shows and then rewatching them after failing to focus the first time because he had been thinking about her instead.

Still like that old time Rock and roll. That kind of music just soothes the soul. - Bob Seger, Old Time Rock and Roll

The only time that he could escape from her was in his music. Banging away at his guitar in his garage was his sole happy place. He could disappear for hours without any concern for the world around him. There were all kinds of music that could make him feel all kinds of songs. He would play that song when he wanted to feel good. Right now, he just wanted to vent.

Stupid, Love is stupid. Why do we always do it? Finally find it just to lose it. Always wind up looking stupid. Stupid. - Kacey Musgraves, Stupid

The song he played to vent captured how she felt as well. She didn’t have music. She didn’t have a scapegoat. All she could do was try to study before realizing she had spent the entire afternoon daydreaming. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was in love. She knew it wasn’t good--that it could only cause problems--but she couldn’t control it. He felt the same way.

She did nothing for two weeks. He did nothing for two weeks. Both of them tried their best to pretend they were exactly the same. Still, he found himself paying more attention in class. She found herself drifting off more. He found himself working hard. She found herself slacking. It all happened so fast.

Then came their math test. He had focused so much in class. She had seemed to lose all ability to focus. He took the test with confidence. She felt uncertain. The next day they got the grades back. She got an A. He got a D.

He wasn’t in spanish the next morning. She kept looking at his chair. She kept telling herself she didn’t care. She was better off without him. She had proven that. Her grades had improved. She felt empty inside. She made it through the class without making a scene. It took all her self control.

He wasn’t in math either. She couldn’t stay calm. She sat there for twenty minutes fidgeting in her chair, glancing back at his, missing every word the teacher spoke. Finally, she gave in. She asked if she could go to the bathroom. She went over to the back stairs, where she knew he would be strumming on his guitar.

I want to heal, I want to feel. Like I’m close to something with real. I want to find something I’ve wanted all along, somewhere I belong. - Linkin Park, Somewhere I Belong

That was the music he was playing as she opened the door. Immediately, she felt her tears beginning to well up. She wasn’t sure if she could do this. She sat down at the top of the stairs. He continued playing, lost in his own world. She sat there for the rest of class. They never spoke.

Later, she decided to ask her friend about him. She already knew what the friend would say, but she needed to hear it for sure. The friend told her that he wasn’t worth her time. That he was a worthless loser that would never amount to anything. The friend told her that she was destined for greatness, a sure bet to change the world. He would only hold her back.

It was hard for both of them the next few months. He loved her and she loved him. Neither ever spoke to the other. Neither could honestly explain why. Neither was happy, that was for sure. Love is simple. Life is complicated. That’s what both of them were learning.

As time went on and the next semester started, both of them began to move on. She started smiling again, and laughing with her friends. They were glad to see her happy again but they couldn’t help but notice her constant glances towards him in the lunchroom, towards his oft-empty desk during math and spanish class. They tried to distract her the best they could but her heart was always stuck in one place.

When she glanced over, she would usually see him hanging out with the punks of the school. She would see him laughing and joking around with them. She would see them laughing and joking around with him. She told her friends that she was happy he had found a crowd as pathetic as him. She told herself that too.

Liar, Liar, Pants on fire. Nose is longer than a telephone wire. - The Castaways, Liar, Liar

She heard that song from the top of the stairs in the back of the school. She still found herself, after longing stares at an empty desk, asking for a bathroom break and ending up here. She found herself sitting at the top of these stairs, enjoying the music below. He didn’t know she was there, but he always dreamed she was. He stared upwards as he played. The music had changed. His life had changed.

He had a band now. A group of people who loved music and hated all the other miserable aspects of life. They would play together--him the lead singer and guitarist, of course. His talent was unrivaled. There was a sadness, an anger, even sometimes a dreaminess found in his music that all couldn’t be replicated by anyone less than the best guitarist and singers in the world. Everybody in the band knew it, but nobody believed or dared acknowledge it. He was destined for greatness.

It wasn’t long before they had their first gig at a local cafe. The crowd, who had come with low expectations, cheered so loudly as they finished their final song. They demanded an encore from this enthralling new band with the singer whose voice filled the air with a magical sense of pure feeling. Nobody knew it, but the loudest cheerer in that crowd was a schoolgirl who was deeply in love with the main singer. She was his first groupie, but she couldn’t tell her friends; she couldn’t even tell him.

I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there; become so tired, so much more aware. By becoming this all I want to do, is be more like me and less like you. And I know I may end up failing too. But I know you were just like me with someone disappointed in you. - Linkin Park, Numb

His band’s first time covering that particular song was a concert neither he nor she would ever forget. For him, the night was a great one. It was their first time hosting their own concert and they had sold out the venue. People were screaming, thrashing violently in the mosh pit, crowd surfing, and throwing underwear on the stage. It was the concert that every boy dreamed of. He wasn’t sure, but he could even swear he saw her in the mosh pit. All her friends were there--all the people who had been so sure he was a loser destined for failure. He had proven them wrong, he supposed.

For her, the night was terrible. The concert was incredible but it made her so mad how all her friends were bragging about going to the same school as him, how they had always known he would be great. She took the mosh pit as an opportunity to get her anger out and punch a few of them. She drove home screaming the lyrics to the various songs he had played. She wondered if he would be willing to get to know her again. When she got home, her mom told her to sit down.

Upon hearing the words “Sit down, honey” and the tone they were spoken in her entire body tightened up. Her happy expression changed to one full of fear. She knew that no good had ever come from those three words. This time was no exception. There had been a car accident. A drunk driver had swerved on the highway, right across the middle barrier. Her father's car had been on the other side of that barrier. He was dead.

Summer has come and past; The innocent can never last; Wake me up when September ends. - Green day, Wake Me Up When September Ends

She was in her room. Tears were flowing noisily down her face. Music was playing. She wasn’t sure how she had gotten there. She wasn’t sure why she was there. She wasn’t sure why she was alive. All she knew was that it hurt. It really hurt. She could call her friends but they wouldn’t understand. She didn’t know if she could ever face them again. They didn’t know pain. They don’t know what it meant to not be like everyone else anymore, to realize that this is all meaningless. To give up.

The next day in certain math and spanish classes there were two empty desks. One belonged to a boy who until recently everyone had considered worthless. They had mocked him and ignored him. Now they all stared dreamily at the desk, wishing they could be friends with its owner. The second desk belonged to a girl whose father had just passed away. Everyone had loved her and been such good friends with her. Nobody noticed the desk was empty. Perhaps he would’ve noticed, had he been there. But even if he did, he would’ve pretended not to.

He stayed home that day for a few reasons. First, he wanted to sleep in after the concert; it had been a huge success, but it had taken a lot of energy out of him. Second, he didn’t want to deal with his classmates. So many of them had been at the concert that night. So many of them had tried to talk to him, acting as if they had always been friends. He hated all of them for only caring about him now that he was on his way to be successful. What was wrong with people, he would wonder.

His final reason to stay home was that he wasn’t happy. He was a rock star now, living the dream. Everybody loved him. Still, he felt empty inside. He didn’t understand it; all he knew was it hurt. It really hurt. Nobody else would understand. They didn’t know pain. They didn’t know what it meant to not be like anyone else. He just wanted to tell them all how meaningless this was but he knew they wouldn’t listen. It made him want nothing more than to give up.

The next day only one desk was empty. It belonged to him. He was in school that day, but he was in his usual spot, playing music under the back stairway. She stared at his desk for a long while. When the teacher asked if she was okay, she said she needed to go to the bathroom. The teacher let her go.

She walked straight past the restroom towards the stairway in the back of the school. She stood outside the door for a full minute. She took a deep breath. She hovered her hand above the door handle and then jerked it back. She tried again, and this time successfully opened the door. She took another deep breath. Her legs seemed to be made of lead.

That’s it I am quitting this life! Sure the pay is nothing to complain; my career is just painted with blue. I stand out today: they’re looking this way! No more! I am fleeing this life! All I ever wanted to do was too much. “Please stop looking at my face.”- JubyPhonic English cover of IA’s Kisaragi Attention

She had never heard the song before but the emotional power behind his voice was more powerful than anything he had ever played before. Almost immediately, tears began to swell up in her eyes. Totally dazed, she began to wander down the stairs. She turned the corner and saw him staring up at her. As soon as she entered his vision he froze. The soft clack of his guitar pick hitting the ground echoed throughout the stairway.  He took a deep breath as he went to pick it up.

“I love you.” She surprised even herself with her words.

“I don’t believe you.” He surprised both of them as well.

“I’ve always loved you.” She insisted.

“You mocked me, called me a loser.” He replied.

“I didn’t understand then.” She tried to explain.

“And now that I’m famous, it’s all so clear?” His voice wasn’t angry. It was sad, almost empty.

“It’s not that.” She protested. “My father just passed away.”

He never heard his final words. He had picked up his pick, closed his eyes, and once again began strumming violently on his guitar. Soon he began singing. The rhythm and his voice were harmonized in rage. She would have found it beautiful, had it not been so terrifying and violent. She turned and ran up the stairs as he sang.

I can feel the animal inside. My Resolve is weakening! Pounding at  doors of my mind, it’s nearly overpowering! I cannot begin to describe the hunger that I feel again. Run, if you intend to survive! For the beast is coming to life. - Disturbed, The Animal

She sprinted to the top of the stairs, his enraged music slamming through her as she did so. The sound was so overwhelming, so monstrous, that she could hardly believe it came from the same boy she had fallen in love with, the same boy whom she still loved. She ran straight to the bathroom where she quickly hid in the first stall, slamming it’s door shut behind her. There she sat on the lid of the toilet and began to cry more than she ever cried before. She felt broken. She stayed there for the rest of the day. Over the next couple weeks, she would spend many days on that toilet.

It was a full two weeks before either him or her showed up for a class again. When he did so. He was shocked to find her desk empty. He knew how hard she worked, how important her grades were to her. Halfway through the class he got up and left. He went and found one of the few friends he trusted. He asked his friend what had been going on with her. His friend told him how her dad had died. His friend told him how she hadn’t been going to class for two weeks, how everyone just assumed her dad’s death had made her snap. He wasn’t an idiot. His eyes widened as he connected the dots. He asked his friend where he could find her. His friend told him that she had been hanging out in the bathroom.

He went and grabbed his guitar. He took it up to the bathrooms on the second floor. He stood outside the door of the restroom as he prepared to enter. It was a woman’s restroom, but he couldn’t care about that now. He took a deep breath before heading in. As soon as he entered, he leaned against a wall next to the sinks and began strumming on his guitar.

My seat’s been taken by some sunglasses asking about a scar, and I know I gave it to you months ago--I know  trying to forget--but between the drinks and subtle things, the holes in my apologies, you know I’m trying hard to take it back. - Fun, We Are Young (Feat. Janelle Monae)

The song was one she had always loved. He knew that she would love it. He knew the pain he had caused her. He knew how much harder he must have made life for her when he had refused to listen. And he knew one more thing. He knew that she wanted--that she needed--the same thing he did. They needed somewhere they fit in, they needed somebody who was like them, who understood just how they felt even when they didn’t themselves. For the first time, they understood that life is complicated. It is twisted. It is terrible. It is terrifying. It is impossible to predict or understand. But, somewhere in all that, there are simple things. Love, for example, is simple. All you have to do is feel. You just have to be there and to be willing to accept it. They had worked so hard, made it so complex. Now, they would go out there and for the first time in their lives be happy being themselves. Nothing else mattered.

He loved her and she loved him. The weekend they realized that was the best of their lives. They spent all their time together, going out to fancy restaurants, driving around in circles, looking for excuses to keep the night going, blasting music on the radio, and screaming out the lyrics. A few times, they were asked to leave various stores after being too loud, after causing too much trouble. They didn’t care. They were young. They were going to light the world on fire. They were happy.

He was a boy. She was a girl. Finally, it was obvious. They understood each other. They knew that they were living just to find emotion, holding on to that feeling. Now, they realized that they had needed each other. They realized how bad they had missed each other. After so long living without love, they couldn’t do it anymore. Now it was time now to freeze the moment, grasp the experience, to change the way they cared about themselves. Their souls were soothed.

Finally they had learned, that love isn’t stupid. It’s a way to heal, a way to feel, to be close to something real. Sure, lies happen, and you often end up feeling numb. Summer will come and pass. You’ll want to quit life. You’ll resolve will weaken, and turn you into no more than an animal. You’ll have to try so hard to take it all back, but in the end it doesn’t even matter. All that matters is that you can feel. That you can admit to the person you are with that they make you happy, and to never forget that.

Late that Sunday night, when the magical weekend of first love was coming to an end, he took her up to the top of a rather lager hill near his house. There was a clearing up there. Once they got to that clearing, he turned on his speaker and laid down. He stared up at the sky, at the countless stars, and let the music flow through him. As the song continued, it became clear to her what she should do. She wordlessly laid down next to him put her hand in his. Together, in total silence, they lay. Finally, he had an answer to a question he had never dared to ask, a question he had never before considered, but one he now recognized as the most important question in the world.

If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you pay with me and just forget the world? - Snow Patrol, Chasing Cars

About the Author

Michael P is a college student majoring in Electrical Engineering and minoring and math. He is also a member of his school’s varsity tennis team. During summers, he works at a camp with younger kids. Of course, he’ll have to start doing internships soon, so that won’t be the case for long. While his schedule is already busy, he also enjoys writing and posting fiction and fantasy stories online as a hobby.

Connect with Michael P

Thank you for reading Away From Home! If you want to read more of my writing, check out my weekly serial and other stories at https://PhoenisxFantasy.com. You can learn more about me and my writing by following me at twitter at https://twitter.com/phoenixko12 (@phoenixko12). All my writing is free, but if you are able to I would appreciate any support at https://www.patreon.com/PhoenixFantasy.

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