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You were best friends.

He was always there. He was there when you just wanted to talk, even if it was in the middle of the night and he could barely think coherently. He didn't mind. You'd sit down on the cramped two-seater that felt like it was going to propel you across the room with one of its springs like some sick cartoon sofa and he'd sit down beside you. Put his arm around you. Smile when you laughed and look concerned when you frowned.

He was always there.

You were always closer to him than to anyone else. He was your little secret; the one you could talk for hours to, and about. Only he knew what you dreamt of at night, and only he knew your real past, the one you didn't tell anyone. The one that haunted you by throwing horrifying images in your face when you least expected it.

Only he knew about the psychiatrists and how you hated them. Only he knew about your urge to talk to someone, anyone. Only he talked to you because no one else wanted to.

He was there when you cried, to wipe away those tears. And then you would tell him why and he would just hold you.

You were there for him, too. You were there when he was so frustrated that he'd pick at the strings of his guitar, playing it until his fingers bled and he wouldn't know it. You'd see the frustration on his face; you knew when his smile was wearing thin.

You were there to listen to his dreams, to urge him on. To encourage him when everyone pushed him down and left him there. You were the only one who remained to try and pick him up and set him right again.

You weren't a couple, no; you were friends. Maybe a little more than friends, but less than lovers.

Because you loved him, but he didn't love you back. At least, not in the way you wanted him to. The one secret he never knew, the one thing you never told him. You told him everything…

But you never told him that. You let it remain because you were afraid of losing what you had with him, you were afraid that he'd never look at you the same way.

You were afraid that he'd never look at you again if you told him, because he definitely didn't feel that way either. So you remained silent, staying by his side with a secret smile when he was around, but always pretended that you couldn't care less when he told you about which girl he wanted to go out with and what he liked in her. It tore you up inside, it did, it hurt you so bad. But you never let it show.

One of his dreams was to be a rock star. The biggest rock star in the world? No… he'd settle for just being in a band, being able to play every night. That's why he practiced so hard; he played and he played and he played. And you were the only one who got to listen. And every time he played, it was only for you, and only you knew how beautiful he was when he was happy. When it was just him and his music. No one else knew because no one else saw, or cared to look. It was just you.

You believed in him; you knew that he'd be a big star one day and then you'd be so proud of him.

So when it happened, you were happy. You were so happy when he got to play with a band. Sure, they were small; sure, it wasn't much. But he got to play and he got to sing. And the smile on his face was the most beautiful thing that day when he hugged you and sat down with you on that musty two-seater that held both your dreams and told you that it was finally happening. That his dreams were coming true.

Now he could play, and other people would sit up and take notice. He could play and it wasn't jut one pair of hand clapping. He could play and actually find people listening to him instead of an empty room and a good friend who never left his side.

He was on his way to being a star.

But along the way, something happened. Something went wrong… he stopped talking to you. He stopped listening when you talked. He wasn't interested in your dreams and desires anymore.

Fame happened. That's what it was. Fame. It's a cruel thing. It was cruel to you; it took him away from you. And now…

He doesn't have time for you anymore. You still remain by his side; you still sit around when he's practicing and you smile when he laughs and look concerned when he frowns. It's your turn for that. But it's not the same now. It'll never be the same.

He's not the same. He's changed.

Somewhere along the way, you lost the frustrated little boy with a heart full of dreams and his feet on the ground, somewhere along way you lost him. You lost your best friend to fame.

And there's nothing that you can do about it, because it's too late now. He doesn't have time for you anymore…

He doesn't care anymore. They all forget the small folk when they grow big. Do you remember him? Of course you do. You loved him. Your little dreamer boy.

You loved all that he was. Not anymore. And all you want… is that back.

All you want is your little dreamer back. That's all.

That's all you've ever wanted.




© Marziya Mohammedali, 2001-2013