A/N: O/S inspired by the song "Right Here" by Edwin and the banner created by SoapyMayhem. I will link to it on my profile, my blog and TWCS, eventually.
Thanks to LauraHilary for pre-reading and deerslayer1100 for the speedy, last-minute beta job.
http:/www(.)youtube(.)com/watch?v=PnUPC7WVj3w
Lyrics from "Right Here" by Edwin
There's a cigarette sunset,
Going down, on her town.
She looks out the window,
Sky is red, snow has turned to brown.
And no one seems to know,
About the girl on the fifteenth floor,
This close to letting go.
Sitting in the old leather armchair he has pulled up next to the window, he watches the woman in the apartment across the street. His eyes follow her as she gathers her hair at the back of her head, wraps it in a knot and leans her head back against the window well wall. He frowns as the flickers of light from the candle sitting on the small table beside her reflect off the tear tracks down her cheeks. He watches as she wipes angrily at the wetness on her face and drops her head to her knees that she has pulled up onto the window seat. He watches in darkness as the rain begins to fall outside the window, turning the snow on the street below brown and slushy. Her shoulders slump and her body convulses. He knows that even though he can't hear the sounds, she has begun to sob uncontrollably. Midnight comes and goes before she uncurls from the window seat. She grabs something from the table - he knows it's her cell phone from past experience - blows out the candle, and heads out of view. He shakes his head, rises and stretches his muscles that are half-asleep from the comfort of the worn chair and shuffles off to bed.
She thinks she's all alone,
Her heart has turned to stone.
She don't know that I'm right here.
And no one understands,
No one takes her hand.
She don't know that I'm right here.
He lies in bed thinking of the beautiful girl across the street and the nightly tearful episodes he has been a silent witness to since a few days after he moved in. His mind drifts to all the things he would do to see a smile on her face. Little ways he could make her laugh. He falls asleep with thoughts of her on his mind.
His alarm blares for the fifth time before he finally lifts his head from the bed. Too many late nights spent making plans he doesn't have the courage to carry through on. He bumbles through the morning routine, grabbing a travel mug full of caffeine and a green apple for breakfast. He rushes down to street level in an attempt at being on time.
Public transportation,
It gets her where she needs to be.
I'm running for the bus stop,
But the doors close, and pull away.
Her sad eyes don't see me.
And no one seems to know,
About the girl in the fifteenth row,
This close to letting go.
The morning sun shines on his shoulders, warming him from the outside and working it's way in. He dashes out of his building to try and make her bus. It's the same one every morning. He catches a glimpse of her profile half-hidden behind her riotous hairstyle as she boards the bus a block away. Her body is hidden by denim and leather armor. Today is different. Today, she offers the small child waiting with her mother a small smile. He doesn't get there in time, but it doesn't matter. He's seen her face when it's not distorted by her pain. He knows it's a mask that she wears for today, but it's a beautiful mask. One he wants to put on her face permanently.
She thinks she's all alone,
Her heart has turned to stone.
She don't know that I'm right here.
And no one understands,
No one gives a damn.
She don't know that I'm right here.
He sits on a milk crate, guitar on his lap. He plays absently waiting for her to round the corner. He barely notices the small crowd gathered nearby or the occasional coins and bills dropped into his case. His eyes follow her as she walks past. She doesn't stop or look his way, but her lips curl into a small smile. When she is out of sight he looks down at his instrument and does he best to continue singing with uncooperative lips that won't stop smiling.
She don't seem to know,
In this ugly world, someone things she's beautiful...
Beautiful...
She reaches for the brass door handle and is startled when the doorman pulls it open instead. His face appears startled before drifting into an unsure smile. It takes a moment for her to realize it is in response to the smile on her face. As soon as it that fact is registered, the smile melts off her face and disappears. She shuffles impatiently in the elevator and stalks purposefully down the hallway once the doors open on her floor. Reaching the comfort of her own space she shuts the door firmly behind her and lets the facade melt away. She drops her purse and kicks off her high heeled boots. The same routine follows: Change into a t-shirt and yoga pants, fuzzy socks; scrub the thick black liner and mascara off; pop a nutritionally dubious frozen meal into the microwave; pour a large glass of cheap, sweet wine; turn music playing on random; eat flavorless microwave meal; sit in window seat staring out at the world passing by below and try not to give in to the despair.
On this night her thoughts drift away from the memories of the one who was supposed to promise to love, honor and protect her. On this night, her thoughts wander to bright, clear eyes, corners crinkled in happiness and to talented hands strumming a guitar.
She thinks she's all alone,
Her heart has turned to stone,
She don't know that I'm right, I'm right here.
And no one understands,
No one takes her hand.
She don't know that I'm right here.
She thinks she's all alone,
Her heart has turned to stone.
She don't know that I'm right here.
She don't know that I'm right here
She don't know that I'm right here...
The snow melts, the rains come and wash away the salt and sand. The grass and trees wake from their slumber and begin the process of renewal. His spirit lightens as she shows small signs of acknowledgement. First a couple of coins in the case. Soon a pause with the gathered crowd the hear a chorus or a verse. Eventually an entire song every few days. After an age, daily stops to listen.
It takes all of his nerve to make the first contact. He's decided that today will be the day. She arrives and stands off to the side. Her eyes are cast down, focusing on his voice and the strumming of the guitar. He pauses and waits for her to notice that he has stopped playing. As her eyes pop open she discovers him standing before her, a soft smile on his lips. The small gathered crowd has begun to drift away. He takes a deep breath and gathers his courage. He is unsure of the reaction he will receive, but decides to forge ahead. Her breath catches as he reaches slowly toward her and tucks blowing tendrils of hair behind her ear so he can have a clear view of her eyes.
His voice is just a breath on the breeze. "Hi."
She is at war with her own emotions. She is shocked to find that she hasn't immediately pulled away and isn't automatically scowling. Her deeply ingrained habits beg her to let her walls crash into place and hide her heart away. But there is something in his gentle presence that makes her want to stay.
His heart leaps happily as he sees a small smile grace her lips as she offers her own soft, "Hello," in response.