"Why did you stop? Surely it hasn't ended?", Clinton asked, concern laced in his voice.
"I wrote it so long ago, I forgot how it ends."
That was obviously a lie. I just knew he wouldn't like the way it ended.
He didn't protest, instead, he nodded in response. The air was filled with silence.
"Quick question?',He asked after a while. "What's a 'Great One'?"
"A legend or a star."
"So, correct me if I'm wrong, when you wrote this you dreamed of one day becoming a legendary writer? I'm guessing?"
"I did", I replied flatly. "But I was so young back then. Now everything has changed."
"What changed? You're studying English, that must mean you must want a career in the Writing Industry, right?"
Not quite, I was still very much fond of writing, but I was no longer keen on making Writing my career. I was no longer comfortable sharing my emotions with other people. I had no idea why I was still even majoring in English. Maybe it had something to do with this really weird need I had to finish everything I started, or maybe I just liked torturing myself and wasting my time. But one thing was for sure, I was not planning on using that English degree after I graduated.
"I'm just not the same person anymore", I replied after a moment of silence.
"Who were you then and who are you now?"
I chuckled nervously. "You ask a lot of questions, Mr Clinton."
"Well maybe that's because you're a very interesting soul, Ms S.e.r.a.—Sera, short for Serendipity.", he said with a smile before looking thoughtfully into the distance.
The air was filled with a heavy silence.
"You know what I think?", he said after a while.
"What do you think?"
"Earlier on, you said the world shunned you at an early age. I think you're wrong. I think YOU shunned the world at an early age. You were clearly MEANT to be a writer. I haven't seen much of your work but I can already tell you have the talent and the passion. Not many people are blessed with both. The only problem here is you seem determined to keep rejecting the Universe's gift to you...no one likes rejection, Sera."
"Mmh", I smiled. "You know what I think, Mr Psychologist?"
"What?"
"I think you're stalling", I said, punching him playfully on the arm. "Come on...your turn to work your magic on the piano."
He smiled softly, but then otherwise gazed thoughtfully into the distance before he pulled on his sleeves and started playing the piano.
His eyes were closed. But despite this, his fingers moved with style, poise and grace. It was almost like he had memorized every key, and knew exactly where it was even without even looking. For some reason, the more he played, the more I just had this urge to rest my head on his shoulder. I knew doing so had the potential to get a bit weird, but I did it anyway. He didn't flinch. In fact, it was almost like he was unaware of my head resting softly on his shoulders.
A sweet melody filled the room, and with every note he hit, I could feel a rush of emotions inside of me. It was almost like he was pouring his heart and soul into the music. And even though I was not quite sure what it was exactly that his music was communicating, I understood it and I felt it. I felt it coursing through my veins and flowing through my blood, pumping its way to my heart like a powerful drug.
Just when I thought it couldn't get better, he took a deep breath in and then started singing melodically, his eyes still closed. His voice was deep, and raspy, and full of raw passion and emotion. He sang the words to a break up song, and the way he sang it somehow made it seem like he had been broken before. He didn't just own the song. He connected with the song. He was the song.
I wanted so badly to ask him who hurt him, and inspired him to compose such powerful music. I wanted to know who cut through his heart and hurt his soul, but suddenly my eyes felt really heavy, and so I gave myself a few minutes to rest them.
I was still a little conscious when he hit the last note, but I was powerless to open my eyes so I didn't. The last thing I remember is him carrying me in his arms, and then tucking me safely in bed.