Be Good
Inmates
"Cause that... That get's messy, and you will hurt me, or I'll dissapper..." I sang quietly, trying to recall the proper pattern on the piano. I had found a black grand piano in the service room, alongside an empty coffin. Lighting the small voltives and checking once again that I was alone, I had begun to play.
"So we will... Drink beer all day, and my guards will give way, and we'll be good... Hmm, no, let's go again."
I began to play the opening verse again. "It's unclear now what we intend, we're alone now in our own world. And you don't want to be my boyfriend, and I don't want to be your girl and that... That's a relief... We'll drink up our grief, and pine for summer."
I moved my hands further across the ivory for the next chord. "And we'll buy... A beer to shotgun, and lay in the lawn, and we'll be good." I kept playing into the interlude.
"Now I'm laughing at my boredom, and my string of failed attempts... Cause you think it's important, and I'll welcome the sentiment. And we 'll talk on the phone at night, until it's daylight and I feel confident..." Next chord... "And I'll hear... A slow in your speech, yeah, you're half asleep. Say goodnight..."
I hummed the verse after that, the chords coming together smooth and slow, it was a very easy song to play. One I used to play a lot to practice before a concert at school, or even enter with. It was one of the first songs I learned, as well.
"Now I've got friendships to mend, and I'm selfishly dispossessed. You don't wanna be my boyfriend, and that's probably for the best cause that... That gets messy, and you will hurt me, and I'll dissappear.. So we will, drink beer all day, and my guards will give away, and-"
"Sorry..."
I spun around on the bench, the song going up in a sour note that hovered awkwardly, a constant reminder of the interruption. Daryl stood in the corrider a few feet away, eyes ashamed.
"It's okay." I whispered in embarrassment, fiddling with my hands in my lap. I used to enjoy singing in front of groups, but towards more recent times, I felt sad when I sang... Plus yesterday, Daryl yelled at me for it.
He crossed the room, setting his crossbow on the dark carpet while he inspected a coffin on a stand under stained glass windows, surrounded by candles I'd lit earlier.
"What are you doing?" I ask warily as he began hoisting himself inside, lying down and getting cozy, looking at me expectantly. "Best bed I've had in years..." He sighed.
"You're joking?"
"No, I'm dead serious... Keep singing." He encouraged, though his face was unreadable.
"I thought my singing annoyed you..." I murmured.
He avoided the statement. "Go on."
I bit my lip and weighed his expression, slowly turning back to the piano, resting my hands on the familiar ivory, I began to play again.
"-And we'll buy... A beer to shotgun, and we'll lay in the lawn, and we'll be good..."
The night was still and silent outside, and for that moment, it felt as though nothing else existed. It was just us, the last people in existence, hanging out in a funeral home, playing piano and sleeping in coffins.
Nothing else exists... The thought didn't frighten me as much as it used to. I look over my shoulder at Daryl as I play, the chords veering softly into The Parting Glass. His eyes were closed, and he still looked strong, still the reason I'm alive. Daryl is the reason... I realize. I look at him slightly differently, taking notice of the small things about him. The freckles on his sunburned shoulders, the icy tint to his eyes, making every boiling day feel so much colder. His hair, long, always in his eyes, was a dark brown color, different from when I'd met him.
"...Oh ere to me, the parting glass..." I sang quieter, feeling alone for a moment as I close my eyes and reach higher notes. I am changing, aren't I? I do not feel weak anymore... I feel stronger, I feel like I'm someone new, someone capable.
It surprises me that it doesn't scare me now. The thoughts I am having, I don't shutter. How bad is it?... To change into someone else, into a survivor? The survivor I haven't been since the beginning, always hiding behind a fence and someone with a weapon. I feel now... Like I could do it for myself.
And I am not afraid.
"So we will... Drink beer all day, and my guards will give way, and we'll be good... Hmm, no, let's go again."
I began to play the opening verse again. "It's unclear now what we intend, we're alone now in our own world. And you don't want to be my boyfriend, and I don't want to be your girl and that... That's a relief... We'll drink up our grief, and pine for summer."
I moved my hands further across the ivory for the next chord. "And we'll buy... A beer to shotgun, and lay in the lawn, and we'll be good." I kept playing into the interlude.
"Now I'm laughing at my boredom, and my string of failed attempts... Cause you think it's important, and I'll welcome the sentiment. And we 'll talk on the phone at night, until it's daylight and I feel confident..." Next chord... "And I'll hear... A slow in your speech, yeah, you're half asleep. Say goodnight..."
I hummed the verse after that, the chords coming together smooth and slow, it was a very easy song to play. One I used to play a lot to practice before a concert at school, or even enter with. It was one of the first songs I learned, as well.
"Now I've got friendships to mend, and I'm selfishly dispossessed. You don't wanna be my boyfriend, and that's probably for the best cause that... That gets messy, and you will hurt me, and I'll dissappear.. So we will, drink beer all day, and my guards will give away, and-"
"Sorry..."
I spun around on the bench, the song going up in a sour note that hovered awkwardly, a constant reminder of the interruption. Daryl stood in the corrider a few feet away, eyes ashamed.
"It's okay." I whispered in embarrassment, fiddling with my hands in my lap. I used to enjoy singing in front of groups, but towards more recent times, I felt sad when I sang... Plus yesterday, Daryl yelled at me for it.
He crossed the room, setting his crossbow on the dark carpet while he inspected a coffin on a stand under stained glass windows, surrounded by candles I'd lit earlier.
"What are you doing?" I ask warily as he began hoisting himself inside, lying down and getting cozy, looking at me expectantly. "Best bed I've had in years..." He sighed.
"You're joking?"
"No, I'm dead serious... Keep singing." He encouraged, though his face was unreadable.
"I thought my singing annoyed you..." I murmured.
He avoided the statement. "Go on."
I bit my lip and weighed his expression, slowly turning back to the piano, resting my hands on the familiar ivory, I began to play again.
"-And we'll buy... A beer to shotgun, and we'll lay in the lawn, and we'll be good..."
The night was still and silent outside, and for that moment, it felt as though nothing else existed. It was just us, the last people in existence, hanging out in a funeral home, playing piano and sleeping in coffins.
Nothing else exists... The thought didn't frighten me as much as it used to. I look over my shoulder at Daryl as I play, the chords veering softly into The Parting Glass. His eyes were closed, and he still looked strong, still the reason I'm alive. Daryl is the reason... I realize. I look at him slightly differently, taking notice of the small things about him. The freckles on his sunburned shoulders, the icy tint to his eyes, making every boiling day feel so much colder. His hair, long, always in his eyes, was a dark brown color, different from when I'd met him.
"...Oh ere to me, the parting glass..." I sang quieter, feeling alone for a moment as I close my eyes and reach higher notes. I am changing, aren't I? I do not feel weak anymore... I feel stronger, I feel like I'm someone new, someone capable.
It surprises me that it doesn't scare me now. The thoughts I am having, I don't shutter. How bad is it?... To change into someone else, into a survivor? The survivor I haven't been since the beginning, always hiding behind a fence and someone with a weapon. I feel now... Like I could do it for myself.
And I am not afraid.