Graffiti Girl // Michael Clifford

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I can't sleep tonight, wide awake and so confused. Everything's in line, but I am bruised. I need a voice to echo. I need a light to take me home. I kinda need a hero. Is it you?

«Nightingale» Demi Lovato

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"Well don't you look ravishing," Rayden laughs as the bell above the door settles behind me.

"Shut it," I grumble.

He wipes his hands on a rag at his workstation. I slump down in the nearest chair.

"You do realize it's almost three in the morning, right?" he chuckles. "A little late for your usual visits."

"I'm well aware." My eyes slip shut. I lay my head back against the reclining parlor chair. I hear him sigh and shuffle near.

"Come on, scooch," he ushers, tapping my side till I make enough room for him to slip in beside me. He pulls down the armrest to keep him from tumbling over and I curl into his chest. He wraps a solid arm around my body.

"There's a whole lounge area not five yards away, just so I know we're all aware."

I smirk into his shirt. "I know."

It feels safe squished in the narrow work chair, bracketed by arm rests and real arms. He kisses my temple. I nuzzle into his neck, gripping a handful of his tee.

"Wanna tell me why you're here at three o'clock in men's pajamas?"

"Not really," I mumble.

"Will you just tell me if I need to be worried?"

I smile weakly. "I'll let you know when you need to be worried."

"No, you won't."

I shrug. His fingers lightly feather across my back.

"It's been six months."

He pops his head up to look at me. I pick at a dot of fleece on his chest.

"Six months since what?"

"Since Michael."

He exhales into my hair, kissing my temple.

"I wouldn't have even known. Michael told Luke, Luke told Evan, and Evan told me. I think it's been at least four months since he told me he loved me. He still says it, sometimes. I haven't said it back to him, though." I twist my neck, straining to meet his gaze. "How long is it supposed to take to fall in love with someone?"

Fondly, he huffs a laugh.

"I don't think there is any specific number of days someone is expected to fall in love. There aren't many parameters for this stuff."

I sigh. "I looked up how you're supposed to know when you're in love."

"And?" I can feel his smile against my head.

"I'm still scared." I close my eyes. "I'm making him so sad, Ray. All the times I can never force a smile at him, his eyes show just how much he's dying inside. And, I know it's not just him and they're all worried about me, but he's trying so hard. I'm doing better, I know I am. Smiling just hasn't come back to me yet. I want to be better for all of them, especially him and R. I'm trying." I take a deep breath. "Will you tell me how I know if I love him?"

"Do you think you love him?"

"I don't know." I shrug. "But I'm starting to think--maybe. Or maybe I'm falling in love, but maybe I'm already in love. I'm sad all the time but it scares me how much he can fix that. If I know whether or not I love him, I can just take that and go from there. Right now, it's all just twisted."

"All right then," he starts. I cuddle closer to him like a child who has to be told a bedtime story before she can fall asleep. "It's been awhile since I've been in love. Broke up a few years back. But how 'bout we start with this? How do you know you love R?"

The closest thing I've come to a genuine smile in months pulls at my lips.

"For one, I get super sappy thinking about her. Like, I can find her in lyrics of love songs. Not always on purpose, I'll just be listening to something and she's suddenly on my mind.
I have a playlist for some of my favorites that I listen to when I want to smile or feel loved.

"When I image the future, she's always there, and that's something that's never happened before. I've actually started to be able to picture her never leaving.

"When I think of all the things I want to do: travel, get lost in a foreign country, sit on the couch and watch reruns in a new place, cook dinner, burn dinner, order takeout and eat it on the floor when we can't afford furniture, dance in the rain, take naps; she's the other person.