A grin spread across her face as she leaned back in her chair, letting out a small sigh. She pushed her hair back and placed her arms on the backs of her hair and the chair just behind her right shoulder. He kept his gaze fixed on hers, his arms resting on the table, and felt her bare feet and legs rub against his leg. He blinked and took in a breath of air before composing himself again. Bringing his left hand down he grabbed hold of her ankle and stroked her ankle and shin, grinning at her. She smiled and broke eye contact, gazing at the floor as she twirled her hair. It was only the afternoon. They would be enjoying much silent conversation until the sun set. And even then, it was possible their voices would be lost, like always.
Remember when we were like this? I would take you to some cheesy diner, we would pretend to like the service, and we would flirt as if we were the only ones there. You would take off your shoes, whether sandals or heels, and cross your legs, which gave a certain “bump” to your figure. I would jokingly run my hand up your leg to keep you relaxed, or rather, to keep you interested. I remember these days when the sun would shine on your face through the window, brightening all that was my world. But now all we do is argue. I can’t even look at that diner without getting angry. I can’t stand the thought of you flirting with someone else as we used to. I can’t stand to be away from you. I can’t stand being angry with you… Then I realize that I’m not angry. I just miss… us.
Such grace, elegance, the beauty of the phoenix kindling as she crouches. She glances at her reflection, noticing the wind calming her face with the breeze but instigating her hair to go every which way. She picked up a leaf that was afloat in a puddle, “Such a beautiful, natural part of the earth, the leaf is… Stepped on by many but noticed by none, until today.” She smiles, placing her hand in the air and releasing the leaf in the air with the winds of time that carried it onward…
I held my arms close to my chest under the warmth of my long white poncho, the tips of yarn bounching off my waist as I strolled through the little town. Rain had just fallen, the air was still and stale with a humid dew. I smiled as I gazed up at the many trees, colors were changing, weather was changing, people were changing…
I stopped and my smile faded as I scanned the quiet town. Not a soul in sight. My eyes cast down on the black, wet asphalt, a few scattered puddles. I walked up to one, and I kneeled down, watching my reflection do the same. Taking my hands out of the warm sanctuary, I held my poncho against me as I reached out with the other hand, barely touching the water, and watched it move against my swift motion. I paused. There was barely a touch, yet a noticeable reaction…
I can’t stop thinking about you.
To think that there was a day, a time when you weren’t in my life.
You are my sun, my earth, my sky and my ground.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Your beautiful brown hair falling peacefully to your waist, a waterfall of peace and tranquility that I can’t wait to get my hands in.
Your hazel eyes, burning with a passion that is reflected from my own.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Your being alone is enough reason to wake up in the morning.
Your presence is what I look forward to tomorrow.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
I love you… More than you will ever be able to comprehend…
Two people, two bodies, two souls, but one entity. This is what it’s like to become one with another. To be connected, to hear your heartbeat in the same pace as mine as our souls resonate is such a beautiful feeling. This is what it’s like to have that someone to fall back on, to push forward, to pull in, to run from. Such strong emotions that only we know, that only I know. Can you hear me? Do you hear my love beating in my chest? Screaming in my head? Do you feel me? Do you feel my aura fluctuate in your presense? Can you see me? Flushed with passion on my face, in my hands, in my heart, how can you understand how I feel? But for some reason, I know that you do….
“What do you have to say for yourself??” Mike awaited what nonsense of an answer his daughter was gonna give. But she sat there silently, not even looking him in the eye. “Well? Speak,” Mike’s impatience was instegating his temper. He crossed his arms, waiting on his daughter to at least apologize. “I’m going to ask one last time, what do you have to say for your actions?!”
The girl looked into her father’s eyes, and her eyes were almost as red as his face. She couldn’t hold it in any long, “I’m sorry daddy…”
“No, I’m sorry was when you missed curfew and didn’t bother calling me! I’m sorry was when you went to that party last month even though you were grounded and came back totally screwed over and smelling like you showered in alcohol! I’m sorry was when-“
Mike’s face went from red to white in a matter of seconds…
He stormed out of her bedroom, his already pre-chosen words buzzing in his head. He wasn’t going for screaming, he was going to approach her, question her sternly, and if the argument permits, then scream his lungs off.
He got into the living room and saw Claire painting her nails, she looked up at him, and could see the anger flushing his face, she quickly put the polish away and sank back into the sofa.
He tried controlling his breathing, honestly, he never would of thought it was this hard to control his own temper. As he questioned her about the amount of condoms he found in her trash earlier that night, he noticed his voice broke on the last word. He didn’t know if it was the grief that his daughter was throwing everything away, or the fact he was loosing control, and he didn’t know what to do anymore. He told her to explain herself, to justify her obvious actions, performed illegally from Mikes understanding of the man she claimed to love for three years now. Claire was only sixteen, and this guy, Zack, was 19…Mike took a deep breath and promised he’d listen, but couldn’t help folding his arms, waiting for the new story from his ignorant daughter. He loved her, but couldn’t do this for much long without loosing his sanity…
They were STILL stuck at this conference, waiting in the loby, they had been standing around for three and a half hours now, waiting for people to get settled, and for that to happen, they had to have ALL of the members of Linkin Park present, Dave was still getting ready, and Brad hadn’t even gotten up until Chester texted him a few minutes ago. This was going to be a long wait…
He sighed, and backed up to the counter, leaning against it, one of the many men who were walking around in sophisticated suites made a bee line for him, and before Mike could leave, he was already leaning against the counter as well, smiling fakely at him, talking about the bands new direction, asking smug questions about how risky it was, and how much ‘better’ we were in the past, when he was in his twenties. Mike forced a smile when he heard the mans last statement of “Good luck with that one…”, thinking to himself I hope you stick around to listen to us shoving your face in some humble pie, asshole…
It makes him sick, but happy. To see his daughter growing up so fast, he wasn’t ready for it. He met Dave, a long time friend, at a diner. Mainly to catch up on the recent years, but Dave could tell that something was bothering Mike. “I just don’t know what to do. She’s going to these parties, doesn’t call to say she’s okay, up all night with her friends… What do I do with her?”
Dave sipped his coffee, “Well, at least she’s not drunk driving or having sex in your house.”
“And how do I know she’s not having sex somewhere else?”
Dave smirked, “I’d rather have the sex talk than the gay talk…”
Mike tilted his head and smiled, “Whether she was gay, straight, having sex or not, I’m going to be here for my daughter.”
Nervous? Anxious? No, those aren’t the words, he thought to himself. He’s practiced for this show for weeks, months even, and has had this routine down perfectly until a couple mintues ago. Mike was the last act in the talent show for his school, and his friend Chester just ripped the stage with his band. Mike wiped his face and paced around, “pre-show jitters” taking control of his hands and feet. He heard the host speak as Chester left the stage. Mike bowed his head, remembering that he is his music. He will not fail because he has control of his guitar. And if he cages himself this won’t work. Unless you’re free, the machine will be prevented from working at all, he thinks to himself again. The host called Mike to the stage. He walked into the light, guitar strapped and a smile of confidence to protect him. He was ready…
Holding his place, trying to straighten his thoughts, probably closing his eyes at that point in time. Thinking of all the things he did to get into his position at the current time, thinking of a hell of a life he had to pull through to get there. Thinking of the millions of people he can’t dissapoint, but oh, why think like that? They’ll love him, he just has to match their energy, and he’s not even alone, Chester will be screaming and jumping within the first 10 minutes, and then the real fun will begin, the blissful silence of thoughts and hesitance. He has to stop holding his place at some point, though, to move on.
We are always happy to accept you into the hotel, no matter what past you come from, long or short. This will be the home to those that tell tales, forge friendships, and mold memories together. Here you will find the stories of many, happy or sad, and you will find support whenever needed.
We welcome you to The Heartbreak Hotel, also known as “Hostel-Heartbreak,” and we are glad you have chosen this place to reside in.