Music Monday: What You Know

Monday, September 15, 2014

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Music Monday: What You Know
A fictional interpretation of a song by Two Door Cinema Club

She didn’t want to be alone.

He could hear it in her voice when she called him. He was already in bed, seconds away from much-needed sleep, but she didn’t call without reason, so he answered.

“Can I come over?” She asked.


“Yes. If you don’t mind.”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

A half-hour later she was standing at his door in a state of distress, eyes puffy and cheeks red from crying. She was dressed in what he knew she wore to bed, a silk nightie and long socks pulled up past her knees. When she stepped inside, she collapsed into a crying heap on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” She said. “I thought I could handle it, but I can’t. I just can’t.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“It’s Uncle Roger.” She said. “He’s…”

She finished the sentence in tears. Her Uncle Roger was the man who raised her. He took her in and gave her a home, and a love she never could have dreamed of, when nobody else would. He had been battling a serious illness for the past two years now, though it seemed his battle had come to an end.

“When?” He asked her.

“This morning.”

He hugged her harder.

“You can stay with me tonight. Come here.” He said, and he took her to bed.


They had been friends for a long time. Five years ago, he had helped her through the death of her aunt, the woman who was like a mother to her. And when his brother died, she was there for him too. Their friendship seemed to be based on one of them leaning on the other for strength in times of need.

This wasn’t the first time she had spent the night, but it was the first time she let him hold her as they fell asleep. He knew she didn’t have anyone else in her life to hold her right now. He knew it didn’t mean anything.

But there was always hope.


She knew how he felt about her. How could she not? It was obvious in everything he did for her, in everything he said.

She felt the same, but was much too scared to admit. Pain, despair, and disappointment…she knew those feelings well enough to share, but joy and love were new and terrifying. What if something happened to him? To either of them? She couldn’t handle it.

So she let things stay the way they were. It was easier to handle it all that way.

But it wasn’t easier for him.


He was there for the funeral, and the planning of it too. And afterwards, she stayed with him and fell asleep crying against his chest. 

She spent many more nights at his place, falling asleep with a photo album in her lap. He would carry her to bed, and put the photo album on the table where he knew he would find her in the morning, reminiscing over old photos as she drank her morning coffee in his kitchen.

Her childhood came to him in glimpses. He knew she didn’t like to talk about it. Most of the memories were too painful. But now they were worth sharing, worth remembering because they kept the memory of the ones she lost alive.

“My mother was living in the crackhouse then, but she still came to meet us in the park, and Uncle Roger taught me how to use the monkey bars.” She said, gazing at a picture of her grinning while hanging from a set of monkey bars.

They had been friends for a long time, but it was only now that he felt he was truly getting to know her. The dynamics of their friendship were changing.


She knew the precise moment she knew she loved him.

It was the day he had taken her out to eat as pre-expression of gratitude for her agreeing to go furniture shopping with him after their meal. He had just escaped from a destructive living arrangement/serious relationship with a girl he met through Craigslist. When they broke up, she had taken all his furniture, and burned his bed.

“But now I know not to find a roommate through Craigslist.” He said.

“Or have sex with them.” She said.

“That too.”

She told him about her own adventures of the past several months since they last saw each other. She had been traveling abroad, and she told him about the whirlwind romance with the foreigner that almost earned her a permanent home in Spain…until she found out he was married with two young children.

They shared lots of laughs over their crazy misfortune, and agreed they should probably not go so long without talking again. Obviously, they needed each other to think straight.

Several times throughout the dinner, she caught herself feeling an overwhelming amount of happiness, and she would meet his gaze across the table and see her own bliss reflected in his eyes. As much as she wanted to enjoy it, she was too afraid, and the moment would quickly fade.

After dinner, they went to a mattress store. She didn’t know furniture shopping could be so much fun. They hopped from bed to bed, laughing and joking like little children. It was the most fun she could remember having.

The moment of truth came when he was lying on the bed that he would eventually wind up taking home.

“This is the one.” He said. “I can feel it.”

“Oh really?” She asked, standing above him.

So far every mattress had been the one.

“Yes, come here.” He said, and then he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the bed.

He pulled her on top of him, and for a moment she stayed there, her eyes locked with his. She had an overwhelming desire to kiss him, and that’s when she knew her feelings were more than mere friendship. The moment only lasted for a flash of a second before she rolled over onto the bed beside him, and agreed with his choice, but the realization of her feelings didn’t fade.

They never would.


She never told him this, so he never knew.

But he knew how he felt, and now that he had gotten used to having her around, he knew he couldn’t deny it any longer.

He decided to tell her.

They were sitting by the fire in his living room because it was snowing outside. She had her head on his lap while she read a book, having gotten bored watching the documentary he had put on earlier. He wasn’t watching it either. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything except the hyperawareness of her head on his thighs, and the adorable expression of concentration on her face as she read her book.

“I love you.” He said.

She smiled, and without looking at him said “I know.”

“No,” he said, “I really love you.”

She laid her book against her chest and looked up at him.

“I know.” She said.

“You do?” He asked, and she nodded.

“I’ve known all along.” She said. “And I love you. I really love you.”

“I know.” He said. “Come here.”

And then he kissed her.

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