While My Guitar Gently Weeps By Beatles の小説・ストーリー

Peter glanced at me but continue touching the string of the electric guitar while banging his head when William puts the beat of the drum in an intense mood. I always bring his bag of necessities with me so it is normal for him to look for me. I got it from the bag before handing the almost empty bottle to him. He is full of sweats. His hair is quite messy from the banging he makes when he got attached to the beat they are making. I handed him his towel too before looking at Lester who is now looking at me. He stopped beating the drum. I smiled at him but he didn’t smile back. He didn’t tear the connection but he is just silently staring at me which made me feel shy.

“Out there, they hear you processed. Packaged. Sold. In here, it’s just you. Just your breath and your chords and whatever you decide to bleed.” “My NDA didn’t mention bleeding on command,” I say. “Your marriage license did,” he counters, and there’s a flicker of that annoying half‑smile. I should walk out. Instead, I pick the guitar back up. “Once more,” I say. “Then you leave.” “I can agree to half of that,” he says. I roll my eyes and start the verse again. This time, I keep my eyes open.

“Wait… hold on one minute. Let me get my guitar.” He smiled reassuringly, holding my hand. “Please don’t leave me.” “I’m just getting my guitar. I’ll be back, I promise.” I watched him walk to the corner, strumming softly. “Wow… they really love when you play,” I whispered, leaning against the wall. “Shush, Alex. Shush me.” “Look at the little rascals. They look peaceful… almost enjoying it.” “How does such a soft, loving voice come out from their tiny bodies?”

I frown at him. " Really, close your eyes." I take a breath and then close my eyes. " Alright my eyes are closed, now will you -" " Shhh, just wait for it." He says in almost a whisper. " What?" I whisper too now. " Can you hear it?" He says. Okay, he has gone way too coo koos now. " What am I suppose to be hearing exactly?" I ask impatiently. "This." Before I can ask him what in the world he's talking about, music starts playing from somewhere. Now that's not what makes me to open my eyes, it's the fact that my favourite song by the Beetles called ' Here Comes The Sun' is playing.

The way he plucks the strings and the way he looks at me at the same time is sexy as hell. "Oh dear, you look so lost..." he looks at me intently. And I feel my cheeks blushing. I'm turning red. Beatbeatbeatbeatbeat... I exhaled as I curled my fist into a ball. "Your eyes are red and tears are shed, This world you must've crossed... You said..." I took a deep breath in and watch him look over his guitar as he shifts to another fret. "You don't know me and you don't even care, oh yeah..." he moves his head back to me.

he laughed lightly. Ross stood and offered him the guitar. "Would you like to play?" Anna watched curiously as Angus accepted the instrument. Placing it over his knee, he strummed the strings, testing the tune. Then he began to play an uptempo song in a minor key. To Anna, it sounded vaguely Celtic. His voice was surprisingly smooth. "There were three old gypsies came to our hall door They came brave and boldly-o The one sang high and the other sang low

“I haven’t played in years. I pawned my guitar… when I needed money.” He didn’t say anything, but she saw the subtle shift in his eyes. Pity. If anyone knew the pain of losing a passion for music, it was Gabe. She took the guitar from him and ran her fingertips over the glossy wood of the body. It was something she’d missed terribly but never let herself think about. She looked at her hands and tested the chords. How had she missed this so much? She began the first few chords of “Arms” by Christina Perri, hoping to settle on a different song. It was one she knew well, and her muscle memory was complete with this one. When she looked up, Gabe was leaning forward, watching her fingers move aga

The way he left. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t look away. I swear I can physically feel the hollowness inside me where the mate bond between us used to reside before it was so cruelly ripped away. The band suddenly starts in on a cover of Blink 182’s ‘I Miss You’ and the melancholic soundtrack to my own devastation nearly brings me to my knees. “C’mon,” Vee demands, grasping my hand tightly and yanking me backwards.

I pulled the left earbud out and handed it to him across the table. He took it, his fingers brushing mine. The contact was brief, accidental, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight up my arm. He put the bud in his ear. I put the right one in mine. I hit play. The soft, acoustic intro of a song filled the space between us. A guitar melody, slow and melancholic: ‘Time, mystical time / Cutting me open, then healing me fine...’ Denver didn't speak. He didn't make a joke about my taste in music. He just listened. He rested his chin in his hand, his eyes drifting shut as the music washed over him.

But my feet moved forward instead. Slowly, like in a dream. Aiden bounced gently with each step. The path curved, and there he was—silhouetted against the sunset, head bowed over the guitar, eyes closed as he sang low. *“If the tide ever pulls you under…”* The live stream chat exploded: *Who’s that in the background?* *Is that a kid?* He didn’t see me at first. His focus was on the music, the way it always had been—lost in it, like the world faded when the strings hummed.