Page 67 of My Lovely Tragedy
Blinding, yellow light
Absent, seeking gray
A void I find you in
Waiting, arms open
A home you created
A home I can’t resist
Plunged in the darkness of your egoism
I have become you,
And you, me
Is this what we’re meant to be?
I tap the end of my pen against the end of the page, a staccato rhythm as I dig the metal tip into the paper, curling the end around the tip. I fight against the barbs in my mind as I search for a melody to carry the lyrics, but I’m stuck with the absence as Tobias’s own carries through the room.
This piece is slower, darker. His body moves with the music. Long, sharp fingers carrying over the ivories with his eyes closed, dark lashes fanning his cheekbones, gaunt and flushed. His glasses rest lower on the bridge of his nose, just below the faintest scar cutting across his flesh.
The scar I gave him.
I lean back against the arm of the couch and draw my knees to my chest, trapping the notebook between my torso and my thighs. The pen jabs into my abdomen, but I leave it, focusing on the blunt annoyance as I watch Tobias carry himself into his melodies.
His tall form is hunched over the keyboard as his fingers glide across the keys. The tune takes a sharp, nearly discordant turn, and the harsh notes send gooseflesh skittering out like static down my spine.
I watch through a half-lidded gaze as his muscles flex and bunch in his forearms, crisp, white sleeves rolled to his elbows. His legs move up and down as he pumps the pedals in a way I don’t understand, never breaking focus.
The dark hair curling across his skin reflects in the dim, golden light. It illuminates his back, casting a dark, wandering shadow through the open lid and across the walls.
I follow the uneven edges back to the man himself. Face creased in what looks like anguish, lips pursed and twisted. His long curls bounce across his forehead as his head hangs between his shoulders, not quite bobbing but drifting into the music he’s formulating.
My eyes close as I fall into the cadence of his haunting, ethereal melodies. They wash over me—slowly at first. Quickly followed by a darkness that trickles out, morphing into the sadistic beast Tobias is at his core.
It wraps around me, but I don’t fear it.
I welcome it with open arms, intimately familiar with the monster staring back at me because as I blink, I realize…
It’s my own.
* * *
Another nightof listening to him breathe. Each inhale is slow and relaxed. One of a man at peace with his decisions while my own present is the exact opposite.
I’m awake, and my heart is pounding so hard, my chest aches with it. The heavy throbs send shockwaves outward—into my limbs and up my throat. The weight settles in my gut, to my extremities, increasing the pressure the further it travels.
I can’t take my eyes off him. Slumped in the chair, feet planted firmly on the floor, long legs bent at a ninety-degree angle with his journal resting atop his thighs, laptop pushed to the side. His arms are crossed over his chest, fingers curled tightly into fists and tucked into his armpits. Clothes, immaculate, yet wrinkled, with his chin pressed against his left shoulder, lips slightly parted as he breathes through the gap.
The rise and fall of his sternum. Face bare from his glasses, giving me a clear view of his rounded face, even in the shadows. Lined with creases and wrinkles, softened by the laxity of unconsciousness. His nose is rounded toward the end, adding to the softness of his strong, yet poised features.
Tobias is every bit elegant and austere as he is damned and rugged.
A cultivated oxymoron.
My hands twist in my lap, beneath the thick, heavy blankets I keep over me at all times. A pathetic attempt of separation, but one I keep regardless. Though, tonight, their weight suffocates me.
