03. i hate this part

                                    

                                          
This is my first day in Adelaide. And I'm staying here for two days before I moved on to Melbourne. I scroll down my twitter, having absolutely nothing to do. Elsa had promised to go out with me today, but she hasn't showed up yet. I'm considering that she has a lot to do for this and that. 
                          
And if you ask me about Indie, well, I don't really know where she is. Probably with Elsa? But the thing is, she is not here with me. 
                          
I get up, knowing I had to do something to ease my boredom. I'm not thinking about going out though, I'm too lazy to go by myself. I think I've walk around my hotel room for about 10 minutes, searching for something to do. 
                          
I walked in the kitchen, opening the fridge and finding nothing. Ofcourse there had to be nothing, like you're only staying here for two days what could you put in fridge? Probably only soft drinks, and instant meal I guess. But we haven't put anything in it yet. 
                          
I leaned in the counter and crossed my arms over my chest. And suddenly, a memory played in my mind suddenly. 
                          
"What are you doing?" I said from the kitchen when I saw him put a large box on the table. I washed my hand and sit across him, waiting for him to speak up. 
                          
"Just collecting some unused papers." He said, checking the inside of the box. I raised my head up a bit to see that the box is all full of papers. And, there's also a medium box inside the box. Well. 
                          
"Do you mind if I put these here?" He said, pointing to the box and I nod. He quickly takes out all the paper inside and the medium box, as well as a scissor and a glue. 
                          
I know that he's got something in mind and want me to do it together with me, which is totally fine for me. "What are we gonna do with this papers?" 
                          
His smile instantly grew as he put the box down. "We're making something." I rolled my eyes, "And, what are we making, Mike?"  
                          
He put on a smirk before answering, "Paper hearts." 
                          
And with that, I let out a giggle at how he said that. He sounds like a 7 years old that wants his sister to help him do something that he thinks is really amazing. "Paper hearts? What's that even?" 
                          
"That's just like . . ." He paused, grabbing a paper and a scissor. "A memory." He cut the paper to many small rectangle and looked at me. 
                          
"You're supposed to help me, Hazel." He said firmly as I giggled and grabbed a paper and another scissor in the box. Once we are done with the papers, he gets the medium box out and opened it. 
                          
I'm surprised to see that the box was full of printed photos. It's either me or him or some places we went to together back then.. How did he get all of this? I don't remember him taking pictures. 
                          
"Michael, where did you get all of this?" I said, I can't control the smile that grew on my face. I take one pictures in my hand, it was him giving me a piggy-back ride when we were like 10. "How did you even get this?" I said while laughing. 
                          
"Nah, that's for me to know." He said, smirking. He placed the photo on the paper and it sure looks like a polaroid photo.  
                          
"It looks like a polaroid photo," I said, he looked at me. 
                          
"It is, but the difference is; this is more special." He said. "Now, what we have to do is glued this pictures, to this papers." 
                          
"And?" 
                          
"And, boom. We have paper hearts." 
                          
I smiled at the thought of it. I hate this part, where a random memory would just come so suddenly, especially when it's one of the memories I love. And it's about Michael. 
                          
I walked back to my room, and straight to my suitcase. Since the day he told me he is leaving, he gave me a box, he told me to put the 'paper hearts' there, so I can bring it everywhere with me. I used to hang it on my wall, but now, I'm used with carrying it on tour with me. 
                          
I held the box in my hand and opened it slowly. All those pictures still looked the same, and how bad Michael's handwriting is still looked the same. Nothing has changed from this pictures. Just like what the famous quote said; people change, memories don't. 
                          
I take one of the pictures of me and him holding hands on the beach, written under it; paper hearts. 
                          
I smiled at some photos before putting in on the bed, one by one. There are about 40 pictures in the box. I stared at it before grabbing my notebook from my nightstand and opened it to the page where my song is. 
                          
I think for a second before writing something down. 
                          
Pictures I'm living through for now 
Trying to remember all the good times 
                          
I tried to remember everything, letting my mind take over as my hand moved again. 
                          
Our life was cutting through so loud 
Memories are playing in my dull mind 
I hate this part, paper hearts 
                          
I stopped, and take one picture of me and him when we visited Disneyland. I was wearing a Minnie's ears bandana while he was wearing a Mickey's one. There's also something written under it; hoping that you won't forget about it. 
                          
I also found one of him in a shirt and suspender. He also wore a hat that ,ade him look somewhat, so funny. Under it, written; good times, with a heart beside it. It's absolutely Michael's handwriting, judging from how bad it looked like. 
                          
And I'll hold the piece of yours 
                          
I smiled, it's been 4 years since this was made. And I don't think I would forget every single one of it - the memories stayed.  
                          
Don't think I would just forget about it 
                          
I take in a deep breath, before writing the last line of my song's chorus.  
                          
Hoping that you won't forget about it
                          
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yeppie guys i updated this is crap but the song's halfway to be finished yay i need some feedback on this chapter (and this story) does anyone even like it