Scripturient

Eleanor opened the door and froze. For once butterflies didn’t threaten to fly up to her throat when she saw Mai, instead a heavy weight trying to force Eleanor down until she was buried under the earth. Fluttering eyes, lips curving into a smile, Eleanor tightened her grip on the doorknob as her gaze settled lower and lower until it landed on the paper in Mai’s hands.

When Mai turned and caught Eleanor under the doorway, her smile turned meek. She rubbed the back of her neck, looking back at the writing. “Sorry, El. I should have asked first.”

Her knuckles were white as Eleanor rubbed the luster with her thumb. It was what stopped her from snatching the paper from Mai and ripping it to shreds.

“It’s fine.” Eleanor walked up to Mai and glanced at the paper. She remembered exactly when she wrote these lyrics, a result of being sappy at midnight and not knowing how to express her feelings. “It’s an abandoned piece anyway, it’s not good enough.”

“I like it,” Mai admitted. Eleanor felt like she was sinking. “It’s a lot different than what you usually write, but…”

She chuckled and Eleanor already knew what she was going to say. Eleanor didn’t want her to say it. “Did you write this with someone in mind?”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Do you write love songs with someone in mind?”

“Well,” Mai muttered. “No.”