Paint You Wings.

⊱⊱ Alex Gaskarth ⊰⊰

As the famous Hamlet quote goes: "to be or not to be, that is the question."

Well, in my case: it's more of a "to approach her or to stay behind watching her like an absolute creep, that is the question."

I could see her so absorbed in whatever she was sketching as she sat on the sandy ground, knees bent and used as a table of sorts. Her blonde hair was tucked safely into a maroon coloured beanie, one that actually kinda matched the one on my own head. She was so lost in her own world, grey eyes not even noticing as I sat next to her, observing her.

If there was one word I could use to describe her in that moment, despite not really knowing shit about her, it'd be passionate. Her eyebrows were furrowed with concentration as her right hand moved fluidly across the sketch pad, no doubt coming up with a masterpiece. Like how the guys and I are passionate about the band and music, in general, it must've been the same for Riley - but with art.

The sound of waves crashing against the shore made me divert my attention elsewhere. To the shoreline, to be exact. I'd always wondered what it'd be like to find a bottle washed up along the shore. Not just an empty beer bottle that was clearly thrown into the deep blue because they were too lazy to dispose of it in a trashcan, but a bottle with a message inside.

What would I find in there? A map? A call for help? A marriage proposal that obviously failed since it'd only just washed up?

There were so many possibilities and that just made me even more curious. There were always movies about this sort of things but how come it almost never happened in real life?

Then again... Movies were pretty misleading.

No matter how the movie starts, or how it develops and climaxes, the endings would always be the same. It'd always be a happy ending. Truth be told, it kind of annoyed me; how almost every movie was now a romance one. Sure, maybe I'm just being the bitter and single young man, but did everything really have to revolve around relationships and romance?

A hand nudged me in the side and then a sketch pad was held up, letting me read the words on them: 'Love makes the world go round.'

I frowned in confusion for a bit before realising that I'd probably spoken the last thought I had aloud. Letting my eyes drift over to the one holding the book up to let me read it, she met my eyes and grinned cheekily, shrugging a shoulder.

"Does it, really?" I asked, smiling at her.

She shrugged a shoulder again, uncapping her black Sharpie to start scribbling across the page. 'If you think about it... Yeah, it does. I mean, could you imagine a world without love? One where people just had sex for the sake of procreation, not because they loved each other and wanted a family. One where no one would be given sympathy, no matter how tough of a situation they were trapped in because no one would care enough about them, since they cannot love.'

I blinked, looking at her thoughtfully. "I guess so." I said before grinning. "I've a question."

She raised an eyebrow, so I took it as my cue to ask the question. "How's your writing so neat when you write so fast?" I ask, because I'm genuinely curious. I can put so much effort into my handwriting and it'd still look like chicken scratch. She literally scribbled that whole bit out so fast and yet, her penmanship was perfect.

Riley's shoulders moved up and down slightly, giving me the impression that she was silently laughing. I'd want to hear her laugh someday. I just have a feeling that it'll be the sweetest sound that's ever been heard by mankind.

'Practice makes perfect, doesn't it?' She writes, letting me read it as I chuckle, nodding in agreement.

And I want to ask her. I want to ask her so badly: how come she doesn't speak. But how do I do it without sounding like a complete and utter asshole?

I opened my mouth a couple of times but I end up deciding against it, pursing my lips together instead. She must've taken notice of what I was doing, or of my internal dilemma, because she nudged me again, shooting me another look of questioning, though this was laced with concern.

"How come --" I started, hesitating and cutting myself off. "Why --"

She smiled, her hand moving across the page once again, as fluidly as ever. 'Why don't I talk?'

I gulped, nodding a little. Then I shook my head, "I'm sorry, you don't need to answer that. It was rude for me to ask -"

'It's alright. There's a story behind why I don't talk. Maybe someday I'll tell you.' She writes again, a forced and yet, barely there smile present on her lips.

I instantly feel guilty, like I'd made her relive whatever reason as to why she didn't talk. Maybe she could talk but something happened and now she couldn't. It was rather insensitive for me to ask, if you think about it - that's why I was feeling like I'd just kicked a box filled with sick puppies or something.

"I'm sorry," I try to apologise again, but she holds up a hand, shushing me as she shakes her head with an assuring smile on her face, probably telling me to stop apologising. I nod, even though I still feel guilty.

'How's the song writing coming about?' she asks, more than likely trying to get me to stop talking about her.

I smiled, nudging her lightly. "Going pretty well Thanks To You." I smirk as she lets out another silent laugh, shaking her head.

Ever since she helped me with So Long Soldier and I'd gotten the guts to actually talk to her, every other day going to the café felt more satisfying than ever. Satisfying in terms of getting my daily caffeine fix and also in terms of me getting to talk to a gorgeous young lady while she gave me little inputs here and there about the songs I'd written for the newest album. We still didn't know what to call it but we had a couple working titles. I admit, most of them were terrible, but thankfully, we still had time.

I had bits and pieces of lyrics for about three other songs, and So Long Solider was the only complete one - with the instruments and music all mapped out. Another was called Thanks To You - something I'd scraped together late one night about how some people doubted the whole band, almost making us give up on our dreams. Even Lisa had doubted that we could succeed at one point, but the guys and I proved everyone else wrong. Riley had helped me with some of the rhyming bits that I was stuck at, giving me goofy grins whenever I'd say that she was outshining me and I would probably have to put her name on the album as one of the main writers.

Then with some lyrics coming from Jack, For Baltimore was born. I'd managed an acoustic version of the song just fine and I was pretty damn proud of the song, but we'd still have to sit down and discuss the music for the track. Then there was The Reckless and The Brave. This was just literally about us leaving the record label and how we were going back to our roots and I was pumped for this. In fact, I was pumped about this whole album even though it was barely done because it seemed like it was finally coming together.

'That song isn't really a positive sort of Thanks, is it?' she wrote, giving me a sarcastic grin as I chuckled, nodding in agreement.

I shrugged a shoulder. "I had to use it, though. Can't give up any opportunity to make song references with the songs that we wrote." I elbowed her side playfully and she rolled her eyes.

'You. Not we. I barely helped.'

This time, I rolled my eyes. "You helped, a lot. End of."

She shook her head, an amused smile curling at the corners of her lips. Riley turned her head to face the ocean with a thoughtful look crossing her features and I just couldn't find it in myself to turn away from her.

I'd gotten to know her better over a few days and honestly, she was a sarcastic little shit. But she was also really sweet and funny and just downright adorable. Sometimes, her friend - Linc, I'd come to know - would shove her in my direction and practically force her to grab a drink with me. She'd do so with pinked cheeks and shy smiles, probably looking like me at the same time.

It wasn't that I didn't want her to sit with me, it was just that she actually made me feel nervous. Not that her being mute made me uncomfortable - God no. She made me nervous because when I was with her and the slow, little conversations that we had were enough to keep me content. Silence while with her was comfortable, even when I'd just met her and had the sweatiest palms that I'd ever had before.

Riley moved, pulling me out of my thoughts about her. She turned her body to the side, grabbing a glass Sprite bottle - downing the rest of it and tilting it upside down and ensuring that every bit of the soda was gone. I raised an eyebrow when she turned toward me, beaming.

Raising up her sketch pad and then pointing to the bottle, I got what she meant. I guess we had the same train of thought about the whole 'message in a bottle' thing.

"What do we write though?" I asked thoughtfully. Her eyebrows furrowed. She probably didn't think about what to write, either.

With my head tilted to the side a little, I found myself just looking at her again. I really have to stop doing that. Then I had an idea. "Can I have a piece of paper?"

Riley tore a piece of paper out of the sketch pad as I grabbed the ballpoint from my back pocket. I always had that thing with me now. That and my notebook, filled with the most wonderful or the stupidest lyrics I'd ever come up with. I tore the paper into half, handing the other half to Riley, saying that it'd be easier to put both letters in if they're not both A4 sized drawing paper.

Dear whoever is reading this,

I have a question for you. Three questions, actually. Have you ever been in love? Have you ever fell out of love? Have you ever felt so alone and unsure that you've mentally prepared yourself to a life of loneliness?

Because I have.

And also, do you believe in love at first sight?

I didn't, and I don't think that I do now. But there's just something about the young woman next to me that makes me feel all fuzzy inside and shit. I can't explain it but ever since I walked into the café she works at, I find myself looking forward to coming by the next day just to see her beautiful face. She's clever, she's witty, and she's so talented when armed with a pencil, or any kind of writing material, really.

I don't know if anyone will ever read this so she'll probably never ever read it.

Riley Van Acker, you are the most beautiful human being I've ever laid my eyes upon. I'm starting to really fucking like you and that scares the crap out of me. The only person that I thought I loved left me so I've been readying myself to live out the rest of my life alone. I didn't think I'd ever get the guts to talk to you, but I'm glad that I did. I'm not saying I'm in love with you, but I am saying that I have a deep infatuation with you.

So maybe the person who reads this will be from the future, wondering if we ever do get together. Well, person, I really, really, really fucking hope we do.

Sincerely,
Alex Gaskarth.