FicWad

I’ve Got Troubled Thoughts
Part 1
Does He Know?

The computer screen was garish at this time of morning and found the way to perfectly ache Sydney’s eyes. She massaged them delicately with the cushioned heal of her fingers and stretched them out to shake away the pain that had crippled her hand. Her guitar had slid softly down the leather of her couch and leaned against her as though it were quietly catching a few minutes sleep before she would grab and furious pluck at the strings. It was late, really late. The moon had already peaked its glory in the sky and the black had swum away turning the whole sky to a brilliant shade of glorious blue. If she glanced to her windows she could start to make out the city with its buildings skimming the gentle breeze and poking delightfully through the collection of clouds. The clock droned on monotonously with every tick a deafening thud against her poor temples whispering delicately to her that perhaps this once she should go to sleep and give her thoughts a rest. But they were a live; little explosions in her mind that tumbled away the verbs and noun. Sydney knew that if she slept some surely great creation of words would spark a trail of inspiration and once she closed her eyes, she would forget them all. It was a chance she was simple not going a to make. So grabbing and swilling the hundredth cup of brown liquid, she carried on writing this song that she knew truly couldn’t be finished.

She had a deadline; well in her mind anyway. Tomorrow would be the first day that could change her life. She was going to a studio; an actual studio with an actual producer to record actual songs that could actually be brought. And Sydney was actually terrified. The sickening prospect of her songs being torn apart or even discarded plagued on her talent like a doldrums; shaking the last of her confidence to a single fray that dropped the whole weight of the situation heavily upon her shoulders. She needed to feel ready enough to hold her head high and charge her voice at them in enough force for their complete awe. Then they can help her make it perfect. In a last attempt for security, Sydney had called upon this late night jam session with merely herself, her coffee machine, her guitar, her laptop and the advice of her best friend; Patrick.

His mellow hums of slumber rung out into the atmosphere with quiet dreams that practically swam out of his head and danced mockingly in front of her. So much for help she scoffed taking another gulp of the almost cold coffee that made her retch not enough sugar. She pealed herself out of the crick that she had made; a perfect imprint of her body emanating heat. Padding over to her kitchen, she grabbed a glass jar full of white crystallized joy and poured a lot of it into the murky depths of the cup. Placing it into her microwave and warming the contents up, she spun around to stare at Patrick; shaking her head disapproving in. She called him up in despair for he was the only one with experience in this and almost in tears she asked him constantly for advice. Working up a complete state, Sydney had told him not to come over but instantly worried from her sobs. Yet a few hours into her crying, screaming and almost practically throwing her laptop across her apartment, he had slipped into a merry unconsciousness and Sydney was truly alone. And completely petrified.

Truth was, she wouldn’t be in this position without Patrick. He was the one that had convinced her to take up writing music. They had met a couple of years ago at a karaoke session at one of her now favourite bars. It was her first night in the city; she was travelling the country with a few friends and the night had taken them to the packed sweaty bar that thumped away awful vocals. It was not like Sydney hated the bar; nonetheless if you took away the clump of flesh that flustered around the place and the bad singer being without mercy at the main hub of the bar, it was her kind of drinking hove. But tonight her friends were simple annoying and that had set atone for the rest of the night. They were whining; not about anything but her. How she was dressed, how she was spending her money and how she had “ruined the whole day for everyone by not coming out because she was feeling under the weather.” Sydney had heard it all and she was ill, the gentle trickle coming from her ruby nose was enough to show them. Yet to stop their complaining, she unwillingly went out when she should be tucked away in the comfort of her hotel bed. However, her efforts were in veins and after another moan Sydney had enough. She slammed her drink upon the table and pushed past them, through the crowd and too the DJ at the front. Grabbing the microphone, she belted her anger out singing “I Don’t Care” by Fall Out Boy. As she finished she slammed the mic down and to her shocked friends, pulled her coat on and proceeded to walk out. Or walk into someone, making her exit not only embarrassing but drenching as their drink leapt into the air, down straight to her. That person being, Patrick and after a laughing over it, they had been firm friends since she moved into town.

Now he was slumped on her furniture in a happy snooze while her eyes glistened just staring at him. Heart held into her chest, thudding away as she traced his features. He shouldn’t be here she thought to herself and the constant vibrating from his phone that skipped along the table proved that. Sighing to herself, she tiptoed over to him and began to shake him awake. With a start he jumped into consciousness. She whispered; “Patrick go home……….”

“I fell asleep didn’t I?” he said rubbing away the sleep.

“Yes,” she nodded, as he perched at the end of the couch, “Now go home, your fool.”

Stretching his limbs, Patrick began to stand up and grabbing all his stuff. He took a look at the screen of his phone and grimaced. Merely raising an eyebrow at Sydney, he kissed her on the cheek and bounded for the door. Before he left she wiggled her fingers and simply muttered; “Just tell your wife you weren’t here all night because I’m getting increasingly pissed off at the amount of dirty looks she throws me.”

And with a giggle Patrick slammed the door.

**
Ciao Bella