Not written in a specific POV.

We had a dance rehearsal but I finished class early so I decided to head to the studio before we started. It was still closed so I sat outside and opened my songbook, but stared at the blank page.

I conjured up rhythms in my head, memorizing them as the rhythms I felt whenever I was with her, saw her, thought of her.

Resting my fist against the side of my head, I closed my eyes and blasted samples I had been creating ever since I met her.

I drowned out the white noise, focusing on the rhythm, translating the colours she made me see into lyrics.

I was unaware that someone had entered the room until I felt a hand caress my head and run down my neck.

It was her.

It was always her.

She must’ve thought I was sleeping as I opened my eyes.

“Are you tired?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

I set my things aside and we started talking about concepts we could think about while we practiced to see if they would affect how we performed.

We decided to settle on the concept of color.

She asked me,

“What’s your favorite color?”

Before I could answer, her phone rang and she gave me an apologetic smile as she stepped away to take the call.

“Hey babe! I’m just about to go to practice right now, can I call you back later?”

I watched her face light up as I thought about my favorite color.

I wanted to tell her that it was the color of her eyes, the color her cheeks turned when she was embarrassed, the color of her hair in the sun.

But when she asked me again, I just told her that I didn’t have one.

I couldn’t tell her that she was my favorite color.

Hey guys! Here's a random short update. I have been reading the comments and I understand you guys want Irene's POV from the previous story, but to be completely honest, I don't think I can write it. Why? Well.. I wrote the story based off of personal experiences. One day I promise I won't write angst, but today is not that day lol.

Thanks for reading!

-a.r