Runaways

"Would you like something to drink?" Lydia asked while letting Paul into the apartment. She could already hear her mother's voice screaming in her head for being a bad hostess.

Paul shook his head and glanced around. "No. I'm alright, thank you."

She nodded to the couch, "We should probably sit down for this."

He nodded and followed her to the couch. They took seats on opposite ends, leaving room for at least two more people between them. They sat closer together than this in the hallway! And that was on the floor.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Paul piped up. “This is about who I am, isn’t it?”

Well that wasn’t exactly what this was about. But we might as well get it out of the way first, Lydia thought to herself. “Not completely. But I do want to talk to you about that. Why did you have me look you up instead of just talking about yourself?”

“I’m not really sure,” he confessed. “I wanted to tell you because you shared such a big part of yourself with me. So I might as well share too, right? I guess I thought it would be easier for you to just read up on me and then answer any questions you had later. Probably not the best choice, huh?”

“Not really,” she said with a sigh. “I would of preferred talking to you instead of reading all this stuff and not knowing what’s true and what’s not and then going days without seeing you. I mean, I don’t even know for sure how tall you are. Everyone seems to have a different opinion and with every source you just get smaller.”

He gave a weak smile and said, “But I’m still taller than you.” It did the trick. She laughed, just like he wanted. While he understood her frustration and that his choice really wasn’t a great one, he still didn’t want to dampen the mood. “How about this, ask whatever questions you like and I’ll try to answer them?” Might as well go with his original idea.

“How many times were you married?”

“Twice.”

“How tall are you really?”

Paul smirked, “Just taller than you.”

“Of course,” she muttered while running a hand through her hair. It looks like she wasn’t getting a clear answer on that after all. “How old are you?”

He visibly flinched at that but still answered despite how uncomfortable it made him, “Fifty four.” The age gap still bugs him from time to time.

She nodded slowly with a slight frown. He was a little older than she originally thought but not by too much. Taking a deep steadying breath she asked, “Did you really take and then keep your first wife’s surname?”

He chuckled and nodded. “I did. I also switched my first and middle name.”

“Why?”

“Made me sound more like a rockstar. That and I was never a big fan of the name ‘Heiko’.”

Lydia laughed softly at that. She’d met more than a few people over the years who didn’t like their first name but she never met anyone who decided to actually change it. “Is it a regular thing for you to make out with your fellow guitarist?” So she might of been teasing him just a little. But it felt nice to do.

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Not really, no. It was just something we thought would be fun this past tour. We’re both affectionate people,” he shrugged, “so it just kind of came naturally.”

That wasn’t quite the answer she was expecting but she appreciated his honesty. It was actually kind of nice to see a guy not start freaking out when it came to being affectionate around other men. She wanted to ask him other things, more personal than what she found online. Like what was it really like growing up in the GDR, why did he marry so young and why did he freak out when he previously learned of her own young marriage? Did he really use happiness and kindness as a coping mechanism for his own sorrows and inner turmoil?

But part of her felt these were too private and perhaps a bit insensitive to him so soon in their friendship. She certainly didn’t want to bring their light and fun conversation to a screeching halt. So she asked a much safer question. “What’s your favorite guitar?”

He playfully groaned and shook his head. “I can’t answer that. You know that, right?”

“Give it a try,” she chuckled.

He sat in silence for a moment, genuinely trying to think of how to answer her. It was honestly a tough question for him. While he did occasionally go through phases of favorites to play at that moment, each guitar had a specific use and a mood to play them in. “I really don’t know.”

“Alright. I’ll leave that one alone for now. How about this, do you have a director you don’t really like working with?”

“Yes. And if you watch our making of video’s, it’s not hard to guess which one it is.”

“Fair enough,” Lydia hummed. While she was fairly certain she knew exactly who he was talking about, she wouldn’t voice it if he wouldn’t. "What color are your eyes?"

He grinned and shrugged. "You are the artist. What colors would you use to paint them?" Due to them looking a bit different in certain lighting, Paul got this question quite a few times in his life. After a while he got tired of giving the real answer and just started smarting off. It was a lot of fun. And he certainly didn't mind the opportunity to tease her a bit.

"Slate blue and light grey," she immediately responded and flushed seconds later upon realizing she didn't hesitate to answer. The implication that she not only thought of it enough to figure it out but also remembered it spoke volumes. And it certainly didn't go unnoticed.

While he didn't say anything, Paul's mind was racing with the possibilities of exactly how long it took her to decide on those two colors with such certainty that she didn't even have to think about it. It also made his heart race. Perhaps she thought of him just as much as he thought of her. "That's pretty close, I think."

She nodded and looked away, an even deeper blush now covering her face. The tips of her ears were red now. Never before had anyone made her blush so much. And such a dark color too. But then again, Lydia never felt like this with anyone before. Certainly not her husband or the other boyfriends her mother so kindly picked out for her. They all made her nervous, sure. But not like this.

Before it was nervousness that twisted into anxiety at just what those boys could do. Would they be manipulative and conniving like her mother? Would they drag out all of her secrets just to use them against her? Did Mrs. Stillwell pick them out because they were just like her and she wanted to keep her daughter in the same abusive environment? Unfortunately the answer was almost always yes.

But this kind of nervousness Lydia experienced with Paul brought butterflies and flushed cheeks, a racing heart and constant thoughts of him flooding her mind. She even found herself painting him on more than one occasion. As much as there was the urge to constantly be around him, the urge to flee was just as great. To distance herself and bar her heart from male affection of any kind. Because the thought of anyone, especially Paul, being like Alexander was far too heartbreaking. She feared this would be a constant thought from now on.

While her mind raced, Paul watched her with soft and worry filled eyes. The emotions running across her face was dizzying. And when they finally settled on sorrow, his heart felt like it was breaking just a bit. He wondered what she could possibly be thinking of to make that emotion so prominent and feared it was her ex-husband. He would never want to know how right he was.

“So, what else would you like to know?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Oh come on. You had days to think of all these questions and yet you have barely asked me anything.”

Lydia shrugged, mind still not completely in the present. “You’re right. I did have time to think but I guess I should of written everything down because now I can’t seem to remember anything else. All I can think of now is how happy I am around you and how much that scares me. I find myself enjoying being your friend so much and I’m scared this is going to end because I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.” It took a second for her own ramblings to register in her brain but when it did she felt incredibly embarrassed about what she just admitted. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He shook his head, a faint blush now tinting his cheeks pink and awe thrumming through his veins. “It’s okay.” He scooted closer and hesitantly took one of her hands in his, immensely enjoying the warmth and the way her eyes briefly fluttered shut at their contact. “I want to hear this. I want to know your thoughts and feelings, no matter what they may be. I mean, I think I made my own pretty clear already. But I want to be around you and a part of your life no matter what form it takes.” He gently kissed the back of her hand and murmured, “I'm here however you need me.”

“I don’t want to lead you on,” she confessed in a whispered with tears forming. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I’m volunteering,” Paul joked shakily, his own eyes beginning to prick with tears. “I don’t think of this as you leading me on because like I said, I want you in whatever form that takes. I’m perfectly happy being your friend because that is what you need,” he paused for a moment to kiss the back of her hand again and to joke, “and if you need a lover in the future I’m fine with that.” He was pleased to hear her laugh. “I’m good with just being around you, Lydia.”

She nodded and wiped away her tears with her free hand. “Okay. But you have to promise me something. If it gets to be too much I want to know. And I don’t want you to wait on me. If you find someone, please pursue them. Don’t let me hold you back from being happy.” Her own happiness be damned. She didn’t want to ruin anything for Paul.

While he knew he couldn’t promise that, he still nodded along. “Alright.” As long as he didn’t have to utter those words he’d be fine. Because he wouldn’t be able to do it. Even though they had only been in each other’s lives for a short time, Paul knew his own heart and emotions too well. He was slowly falling in love with her. And he didn’t want to stop no matter how much heartbreak it may or may not cause him. “Now, I believe I asked you about dinner earlier.”

“You did.”

“How about we stop our crying and get out of here? If you still want to go, that is.”

“I do,” Lydia said with a slowly growing smile. “Dinner sounds really good, actually.”

“Good,” he nodded and pressed another kiss to the back of her hand before letting it go and standing up. “Are you in the mood for anything specific?”

“Not really. Do you mind if I get changed though? I’m kind of covered in paint,” she said while motioning to her paint stained clothes. While none of it was fresh, it was still something she wore if she intended to do something abstract and messy. Not really something one goes out to dinner in.

“Of course,” Paul replied. “Do whatever you need to do.”

She nodded and stood up. “I’ll be just a minute.” While scurrying off to her room, Lydia realized this was not at all how she expected tonight to go or the conversation she wanted to have. But, in a way, she did still confess her feelings for Paul. Just not in the way she had intended. Perhaps now things would be easier for the both of them. At least that’s what she hoped for.