North Star

37 | hokupa'a

2019

With each new song Nikau played for me, the further I felt myself falling for him, which was terrible because I couldn't reconcile these brand-new feelings with the habit of keeping a distance from even the idea of getting involved with someone. The only reason the casual relationship between Kaipo and I worked was strictly because there were no feelings. If any had developed at any point throughout the years, it would have ruined everything. I genuinely wondered, at one point in time, whether it would have been possible for Nikau and me to have had something similar, but quickly realized it would have never been possible. That just wasn't who Nikau and I were.

At that point, I simply chose to ignore it, as I always did. Trying my best to work on my personal issues meant I didn't have time nor the capability to simultaneously handle whatever this thing was between us, and I was just grateful Nikau acted content with letting things continue as they were.

So, while the kiss was still very much laced between each interaction we shared, branding us with an impression that left little to the imagination, it didn't present the same awkwardness I imagined there might have been if it had happened with anyone else.

At least, that was what I told myself. Nikau was a much better actor than I was, so, for all I knew, he might have resented the way I acted as if nothing had happened. I really hoped he didn't, though.

I knew I had it bad when he successfully convinced me to play the guitar on one of his tracks.

It wasn't a difficult piece to learn and I found my handle on it to be satisfactory enough for him to record it without wanting to cringe the entire time. Plus, there were so many other sounds going on at the same time that it all blended in a way that didn't make me feel as if my part was burning under a spotlight.

"Admit that you love it."

"I like it," I corrected. "I love the song, though. But that's nothing new."

"And you're part of the song, therefore you love yourself on it." He yanked the headphones off his head and placed them down on the desk.

Nikau often tried to get me to brainstorm with him when he was messing around with different ideas in his head, but I was content with just watching him work. Sometimes I would bring a book with me and sit on that small chair in the corner, occasionally glancing up when he wasn't paying any sort of attention to me so I could admire the way he moved and how he was influenced by the complex ways in which his brain worked. On his best days, and there were many of them, he was so distracting I couldn't concrete on my book, and I found myself secretly bookmarking my original spot and mindlessly flipping the page so it looked like I was doing something other than eavesdropping on him.

It wasn't as if I was even remotely on his level either. I knew I shouldn't compare myself, and it wasn't as if everyone needed to be musical prodigies in order to claim themselves music enthusiasts, but my much more modest abilities were a simple fact. The idea that I could keep up with him in the same capacity was laughable.

Loving music was one thing, something I understood and confidently used as a label for myself. But being able to create it was an entirely different universe, and I knew I did not have the ability to go there myself. Instead, I did what any enthusiast did and watched from the sidelines, appreciative if not just a tiny bit jealous at the same time. I considered it a healthy amount, but I never admitted it out loud because doing so led to Nikau making it his life mission to prove me otherwise, even if he only had one small example of me making an attempt. An attempt that had long ago expired.

"I appreciate the confidence, but I promise you no one is going to like this nearly as much as you do," I told him before placing his guitar back on the stand and walking back into the living room.