8 (Eight)
Changed By You
Author's note: It has been difficult to think about plots during these past few months. And a friend of mine, lcnpher suggested for me to write two fics, a broken!henber (I will be the one coming with a plot for this one) and the other fic. my friend gave a specific plot.
She was standing in between her coffee table and coach, “Where is the remote?” She checked under the cushions and throw pillows. Still no trace of it. “ it. I will just grab myself a beer.”
She grabbed her the bottle opener from one of the cabinets. And there she saw the remote. “How did it end up here?” She removed the bottle cap using the said kitchen utensil, and took her first sip. “Oh, well.” She decided to boil water for her instant noodles. She tore open the foil packaging of the powder, and the plastic packaging for the dried vegetables and condiments or flavorings with the use of her teeth. She wiped the small amount of powder off her tongue using her shirt. Took a sip of her beer to wash out the salty taste.
Already finished her drink when the water was hot, she grabbed herself another bottle after turning off her electric stove.
She placed her chopsticks above the plastic container of her ramyeon, waiting for the noodles to be cooked and ready for her to eat with gusto. “Really need to learn how to cook.” She laughed.
As she was quick enough to catch one of her chopsticks rolling off the top of her cup noodles container. She picked up the other when something else caught her attention. It was the spring notepad. However, it wasn’t hers. She decided to postpone checking the contents of the said notepad and eat her dinner. It was getting cold.
-x-
She carried her coffee table at one of the corners of the room nearest to her. It was no joke lifting that thing. It would be noisy to push it. She sleeps on a push-out coach so that makes her living room, her bedroom as well. She fluffed her pillows and fixed her bedsheet. She was already laying on her bed when decided to see what was written on the notepad, on its white crumpled folded pages. She knew it was his.
She caught herself smiling as she read the words. There were lyrics. He wanted to a successful singer, composer. He wanted people to love his songs as much as he does, that people who would listen to his songs could relate to what he wanted to say, what he wanted them to realize, to learn, to find out.
She grabbed her guitar and followed the chords written above the words. This particular notepad, was full of songs about someone he loves, how he sure he was about what he feels, and how he fell in love. Not like she was, that was what she led him to believe. And she stuck by her decision though it was wrong to lie to him.
-x-
“Hey.” Amber was sitting on the ground outside Henry’s flat. Henry repeated what she said and added, “What brings you here?” He saw what Amber was holding. “Did you read them?” “I would be lying if I said No. I like the song, ‘Eight’ the most.” “Me too.”
“I know I told you I don’t love you. The truth is I do. Believe me, I do.” “So you lied, Amber.”
“I was scared. Scared that I would get hurt,--” “But you are not scared to hurt me. “I am scared as much as I love you. And I love you so much. I am scared about many things but this is most scared I ever felt that I ended up choosing whatever we are now. We are not even friends anymore. And you were my best friend. I’m sorry I lied. I am sorry I was stupid. I am sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I was scared when you told me that you love me. I am sorry that I am still scared.”
She gave him his notepad. “Thank you for giving this back.” He noticed a certain symbol on her right ring finger. “I see you understood why ‘Eight’ is the title.” She looked at her tattoo. It was an infinity symbol. “The song is beautiful, Henry.” “Since it is about you and how much I love you.” “I love you.” “I would be lying if I didn’t say I love you too. But--” “I know.” She hugged him. “Bye, Henry.” He pulled her closer to him, “Bye, Amber.”
-x-
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