An: I was in a bad mood and found a song called: I hate this song by Secondhand Serenade. It touched me. I will suggest that you turn on the song yourself before reading this :) Then I came up with this small one-Shot about Claire, you will have to read the rest.
I Hate This Song
Claire was sitting in her apartment with her acoustic guitar in her hand. She had played the new chords over and over, hoping they would fit the feeling she had put in the song. The brunette tried to sing but it was hard. Her lips trembled when she thought of the redheaded boy she had lost years ago, but this wasn't an ordinary boy for her, it was the boy she had loved. They had been together in Rockford Island and Antarctica for less than a day, but it was more than enough for both of them to fell in love.
Her lips opened and she started on the song she had written.
Speak with your tongue tied,
I know that you're tired
But I just want to know,
Where you want to go,
I may be sad, But I'm not weak,
This situation is bleak
And your puffy eyes never lie,
Your tears come from inside.
Claire found it harder to sing than she normally would, her eyes began to tear up-
Until Sunday I'll be waiting for an answer
I guess that yesturday's not good enough for you,
You know that I hate this song,
You know that I hate this song
Because it was written for you
Oh how she wanted to tell the 16 year old boy those three special words.
Drown your fears with me
I'm feeling real sorry
Your glossy eyes don't need
The sadness they have seen
But you're way too deep to swim
Back up again
But somehow I can't find
The moment you said goodbye
But the words never came from her mouth, he died in her arms before she could tell him her feelings.
Until Sunday I'll be waiting for an answer
I guess that yesturday's not good enough for you,
You know that I hate this song,
You know that I hate this song
Because it was written for you
Some tears rolled down her cheek and it hit the guitars body. She would have to wipe them off later. This was more important than some stains on the guitar
This is becoming a problem I'm hurting it's unfair
But somehow your words,
The way that I heard are haunting me,
You're under my skin
You're breaking in,
And the tasteless fights that filled our nights
Are starting to cave in,
You're under my skin
You're breaking in
And if Sundays what it takes to prove
I have nothing else to lose
Her body was shaking. Why could it be her that got the T-Veronica virus? So Steve would be able to live? Instead of her? She wished that more than anything else.
Until Sunday I'll be waiting for an answer
I guess that yesturday's not good enough for you,
You know that I hate this song,
You know that I hate this song
Because it was written for you
She played the last note and muttered to herself '' Steve, I love you, I will never stop doing it. ''
Claire wiped the tears of the guitar and she started to play the song over again, which she had done so many times before. But with these chords made it harder for her to play, oh so much harder.
She took a deep breath and started over again.
AN: Well I hope you liked the short one-shot :) No flames please, this song means a lot to me actually, even though I found it some hours ago.
R&R If you liked it :)