Page 169 of Please Hate Me

Boos filled the room, and the two much older men waved them off before exiting to opposite sides of the stage.

“—They have graciously agreed to let me perform an original song.”

Fuck. Yes.

I tapped the red button in the center of my screen twice—once to end the last recording and once to start this new one. It didn’t matter what Lucian sang; I knew it would be amazing.

Lucian pulled a stool from the side of the stage and leaned against it while he adjusted the settings of his guitar. The sound quickly morphed from traditional rock-and-roll to soft and melodic, almost like an acoustic guitar.

“This song doesn’t have a name yet,” he explained, softly strumming the strings. “I have someone very important to me backstage, and I was hoping she’d do me the honor of naming it… after all, she wrote half of it.”

A mix of emotions threatened to overwhelm me as I realized I had left my lyrics in his room. Love, because Lucian just acknowledged to hundreds of people that I was important to him. Anger, because that draft was never meant for his eyes, even if Ihadaccidentally left it in his notebook. And finally, fear; none of the songs I had ever written lived to see the light of day. What if everyone hated it?

The latter kept me completely paralyzed as I watched Lucian with wide eyes.

“In seven years, my cells become a form you’ve never touched.

I wrapped that thought around myself; I used it as a crutch.

My body left yours long ago, but time’s a funny thing,

Each passing day, you’re far away, but the echoes of your love still ring.”

Lucian’s voice was so velvety smooth that goosebumps erupted up my arms. Despite how objectively awful my lyrics were, the crowd became a sea of slowly waving phone screens and lighters. A lump formed in my throat as Lucian continued:

“I never deserved you,

But someday I’ll learn to,

Match our heartbeats metronomically,

Take my soul, love me atomically.”

My bottom lip quivered.

“That shit’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Lucian called to the still-silent crowd. “I found that in a notebook, along with the rest of a song that was full of sadness and self-hatred. So, instead of dignifying that garbage, I wrote a response.”

I should have been angry. Lucian just called my songgarbage. But I was so eager to hear his reaction that I barely processed what he said.

“It’s been six years, I’ve been through hell, my wounds have healed with time.

Then you come crashing back and oh, the bells of love still chime.

I’m angry, shocked, and overwhelmed, but most of all, I’m scared.

I’ve built a life without you, now you’ve caught me unprepared.”

My hands started to shake, and my bottom lip quivered. I never even considered that Lucian might have been pushing me away out of fear, not anger.

“I thought I could hate you,

That’s one thing I can’t do.

Sort my feelings taxonomically,

Now you’re home, we’re bound atomically.”

His words hung in the air, leaving me completely vulnerable as his raw emotion overwhelmed me. I had to stop the recording before he finished; otherwise, I would’ve ruined the video with my blubbering. Eventually, the beautiful guitar melody faded and was overtaken by furious cheers from the crowd. Lucian took an exaggerated bow and said his goodbyes.

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