Back to me
Writing date: June 2020
Genre: fluff
Warnings: crazy paparazzi? Lol
Word count: 2.8kย
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You sighed in relief as soon as the fresh night wind hit your face, replacing the thick, musty air inside the building you just got out of. You exhaled, fog momentarily clouding your vision. It made you smile. As a child, you'd always imagined being a baby dragon who couldn't spew fire yet, but instead spit smoke. You sometimes wished to return to the simplicity your life held back then.
A fraction of the buzzing from inside managed to find its way outside, but it was faint, and therefore much more bearable for your eardrums.
Still, you knew you should be inside right now, yelling along with the crowd, head over heels in love with the lead singer, like every other girl, or boy, in there. You knew, however, that being inside just wasn't an option right now. You had tried, for him, but the loud noise was too much for your head, and the lyrics were not sung, but screamed by the singer, too much for your heart.
Carefully, considering you were wearing your only pair of heels right now, you started to walk alongside the wall, breathing in deeply, letting the wind wrap itself around your body. But the more physical distance you created between you and the stage, the more your thoughts seemed to focus on that same stage, and the singer on it.
From an outside perspective, he was everything you would expect from an ideal guy, 'boyfriend material', they'd say, and you saw all of that too, but he wasn't right for you, not in the beginning, and not now.
'The beginning' had taken place around 7 months ago. He had been your new classmate. Whispers had filled the classroom as soon as his famous face had been visible, and all the girls in your class had been jealous of you when the teacher put him next to you. You, however, had grimaced as discreetly as you could, not really keen on giving up your extra space. The jealousy of the other girls had only continued as the two of you constantly got paired for partner assignments. You would rather work on your own than having to compromise with someone else though.
For some reason however, he seemed to have a special interest in you. The interest wasn't genuine and you knew it, but you couldn't turn him, nor the attention he offered you, down. Not because he was irresistible, no, you knew for sure that you'd rather be alone than with him. It was the icy tone behind his charming words, the cold eyes above his broad smile, that made you unable to say no to him. You were scared.
What started as being classmates, ended up in many more labels. Friends, some would say. Lovers, others would gossip.
The truth was much more complicated. The truth was that you didn't really know what to think of the two of you, only that you felt an immense amount of pressure from the outside world to finally get together.
'What do you actually want? He's perfect! If you don't claim him soon enough, he's going to be gone, he won't wait forever. And then that's your loss. Stop being so picky!'
You had lost count of the number of times someone had felt the need to tell you something along those lines. It made you panic, made you feel restricted, invisible claws pinching your throat closed. You didn't know exactly what you wanted from a romantic relationship, all you knew was that he couldn't give it to you. True, he was perfect to the outside world, society, but you knew better. You had soon picked up on the small things, like how he always divided the work of partner assignments and made you do the harder part, or how he treated all girls with an equal, but fake kind of chivalry.
Soon, making duo assignments 'together' had turned into you writing the songs for his band while he claimed them as his own, you taking the pictures he posted on his Instagram, you writing back nice letters to his fans after they had sent him fan mail.
You couldn't do it anymore. Dealing with all the pressure from the outside world, combined with his behaviour towards you...it was too much. You felt trapped in between two walls, getting closer and closer towards each other, waiting until they would finally be close enough to pulverise you.
Suddenly, your eyes and ears started registering flashes. You looked to the left, your eyes quickly scanning the area, looking for the person who was taking pictures of you. When you found them, you gasped. At least 4 photographers were sitting behind a car, hastily taking as many pictures of you as they could.
You rapidly looked the other way again, continuing your walk at a faster pace. It had never been this bad. True, his band had been known before he became your classmate, but he had only really blown up when he began to release the songs you had written. He had started homeschooling as well, not being able to go to school anymore without being followed like this. It worked for him, but you still had difficulties with the press, considering you were often spotted together. This wasn't the first time pictures had been taken from you, but it had never been in a situation like this, with you feeling overwhelmed, at night, alone and in the dark. You didn't want to be seen like this, not by the photographers and not by every other person in the country who bought a magazine the next morning. All you wanted was to get away from these people as fast as possible.
So you ran.
You ditched your heels altogether, never having been keen on shoes anyway, and started to run as fast as you could. You ran through the city centre, turned left, and right, and left again, until you were completely disoriented, stranded in a local park, bright yellow lights the only thing to make you see something. The photographers, however, were still chasing you. You faltered for a second, hands on your knees, your breath being completely knocked out of you. You mentally noted that you should start working on your stamina. You knew the only reason you were ahead of the press was because you didn't have to carry those heavy cameras.
"Hey, come here, quickly, I'll help you."
You looked up again, only now noticing a figure sitting on the bench, about 12 feet away from you. You walked in the person's direction, and upon further inspection, you saw it was a guy, probably around your age. He was wearing a jacket with a hoodie underneath, a guitar was balanced on his lap. The guy smiled at you when he heard you come closer. Before you even had the chance to say something, he pulled something out of his pocket and threw it in your direction. Out of instinct, you caught it. The material felt cold in your hands, and so it took you a second to realise he had given you keys.
"My bike is in the grass, there. You can take it and bike away, so that you're faster than the press."
You looked in the direction his arm indicated, and indeed saw a bike thrown against one of the light poles. You were astonished.
"Why do you trust me? How do you know I won't just steal your bike?"
He only smiled knowingly, not really giving you an answer.
"I have a feeling you'll come back to me."
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He had been right. Of course you came back. How could you not? First of all, you were not the type of person to do anything mean, let alone illegal, and second, you hadn't been able to get the kind boy out of your head throughout the entire process of escaping those photographers. It had taken you a while, true, but you had managed to get rid of all of them. Now was the time to bring the bike back to its rightful owner.
Leaves rustled as you entered the park the boy had been sitting in, and the chaos in your head only intensified because of it. Questions swirled through your mind, why he had trusted you, what he had been doing there so late at night, who he even was.
You spotted his figure, hood over his head, slightly leaning forward. You stepped off of the bike and slowly started walking next to it, trying to buy some time, your shyness suddenly coming in full force. How should you approach him? What did you say to a stranger who had loaned you his bike in the middle of the night?
You noticed you had stopped walking altogether because the spikes of the bike were silent, making it possible for you to hear the gentle strumming of a guitar - a guitar he was playing right now.
Your feet decided for themselves to start moving. He only noticed you when your shadow towered over him, blocking the artificial light coming out of the lamp posts from reaching his fingers on the guitar. He looked up, smiling. The artificial lighting didn't illuminate his features at all, but you were still happy to have a better look at his face. And what a face it was.
"Hi there. I see you've found your way back to me. Did they follow you for a long time, or were you just lost?"
His teasing tone made you grin, questions still on your mind, but the chaos gone now.
"A combination of both, I guess. Thank you, really, I don't know what I would've done without your bike."
And then, to change the topic:
"What were you playing?"
"Recuerdos de la alhambra"
"How can you play that piece by heart? I've been practising for months and I still can't get it completely right. And that's with sheet music."
He looked up from his guitar and to your face for longer than absolutely necessary for the first time since you'd come back to him. When you looked into his eyes, you knew his lack of eye contact before hadn't been because you bored him, but because he'd been shy. What had changed now was that his curiosity had won, while the shyness had lost. Your heart fluttered without your permission at the realisation, and suddenly, you were the one having difficulties upholding that eye contact.
"I've always felt like sheets hinder me while I'm playing. It's like I'm too busy trying to decipher the notes on the sheet that I can't actually make music anymore, you know? Anyway, that's not what I where I was going to. Did you just hint that you play the guitar too?"
Your shyness had definitely taken over now. Why had you told him you played?
"A little bit, I'm definitely not as good as you are, I taught myself."
"Okay but that only makes it more impressive. Do you want to play?"
He held his guitar out to you, but you shook your head. You barely dared playing in front of your friends, let alone a stranger. Then, a thought struck you, and the giddy feeling inside you numbed.
"Is this the part where you're going to force me to play guitar, or do something else I'm uncomfortable with, because you let me use your bike?"
His face fell a bit, a worried expression now taking over the smile. The giddy feelings inside you numbed even further now his smile wasn't visible anymore.
"No, no of course not, I honestly just wanted to do something good, and you just needed help in that moment. I'm nothing like that, I'd never ask you for something unreasonable in return for giving you the help you needed, but didn't even ask for. I'm sorry if I came across that way, I should've realised I'm a stranger to you. You couldn't have known my intentions were solely to help you out."
You had seen your fair share of false remorse throughout your life, and so you knew from the tone of his voice and the look on his face that his wasn't false. An immediate punch of guilt attacked your stomach, this wonderful guy had helped you, and you came and doubted his intentions, just because he offered you his guitar. You seriously should work on keeping your fears under control. Carefully, you parked his bike against the lamp post and went to sit on the other end of the bench.
"I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to doubt you or anything. I should keep my fears under control."
He looked at you again, eyes widened at the fact that you suddenly sat next to him, even if there was still over a foot of space between you.
"You mean, your fear of playing?"
You nodded your head, feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks.
"Yeah, I don't know how you do it. I mean there's no need to be insecure, obviously, but where did you learn to play this well? I've never found a good guitar teacher around here. Then again, where are you from? What's even your name? Or am I asking too much now?"
The mysterious smile was back on his face, and you felt your own smile promptly match his.
"Well, to each their secrets, I guess. You don't want to let me enjoy your musical talent, what makes you think I'd want to share what my name is?"
You could tell he was only teasing you. There was a twinkle in his eye when he looked at you, and you couldn't help but think you'd never been as intrigued by a pair of eyes before.
Suddenly, you had an idea.
"Okay, you've convinced me. Let's play a game. For every song I play for you, you have to answer a question, and vice versa."
"So, like an advanced, musical version of twenty questions?"
"You've got it. You can start with a question while I mentally prepare myself to play the next song."
He played a few random chords before silencing the strings, looking you in the eye. For the first time that night, you noticed the dimples gracing his cheeks. You thought they were cute.
"Okay, first question: what's your favourite song?"
You knew where this was going to, so you told him your favourite song. You even told him the story of why it was your favourite, something that surprised both him and yourself.
And so he started playing. At this point, you weren't even surprised he knew the correct chords right off the bat. You closed your eyes, taking in the gentle strumming of the guitar next to you, allowing yourself to finally completely relax.
And then, when the second verse was about to start:
"Do you want to sing?"
You couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was that made you cave in, maybe it was his smile, or the fact that he hadn't added 'for me' to his question, but you started humming along. Shy at first, not used to singing in anyone's presence but your own. The humming gradually morphed into singing actual words, and when you dared opening your eyes again, you saw that his smile had only broadened, his eyes closed now, fingers dancing across the strings of his guitar.
This is how you spent your entire night, sitting on a bench, with a guy you didn't properly know yet, humming famous and self invented melodies, bonding over smiles and chords.
You hadn't realised it yet, but somewhere during this night, the foundation had been set to eventually fall in love with this beautiful stranger.
He would end up being your first -and last- true, romantic love, and you were going to be forever grateful that you decided that night to come back to him.
