love & hate | wroetoshaw

e l e v e n

i put my hands over my face and lean against the cold brick wall to cool myself down. i begin to feel nauseous, the room beginning to go in slow motion and my vision becomes blurry. my back slides down the wall as i crouch down, suddenly my legs feeling like jelly. i look up, seeing nothing but silhouettes of the crowd and the distant colourful lights. the space i'm in gets increasingly smaller as the people don't notice me on the floor. it feels like it's impossible to breathe, my hands now holding onto my legs as i bring my knees to my chest. i put my head down and try to focus on my breathing, but nothing works. i begin shaking as i'm dragged into a spiral of panic, unable to move, the memory of that night repeating in my head, over and over again.

i hear a muffled voice shout my name, but i can't move. a hand lands on my shoulder and gently shakes me and i hear my name being said again, more urgency in their voice this time. i try and pick my head up to look at the person, but i'm frozen.

a pair of arms wrap around me and pull me to my feet, my arms gripping onto them with all the strength i had. i feel them grab onto my waist and guide me through the crowd, shouting for people to move as we rush towards the nearest exit. a cold air brushes over my skin, causing goosebumps to erupt over my arms and legs. i'm placed on a bench as the cold air snaps me back into reality, my vision clearing. i look up, only to see harry crouched down in front of me, one hand on my thigh and the other delicately holding my clammy hand.

"hey, it's okay," harry says softly, a worried look in his eyes, "breathe, i'm here."

i slowly try and control my breaths, running my shaky hands through my hair. i feel myself beginning to cool down due to the nippy mid-autumn air, however, my breaths are still rushed and shallow. harry continues to try and calm me down, telling me to 'breathe' and 'it's going to be okay'. eventually, i feel myself begin to calm down, starting to catch my breath and the sick feeling drifting away. my grip never leaves harry's hand, his touch giving me a sense of calm.

"thank you," i whisper, after what seemed like forever, "i'm sorry."

"you don't need to be sorry, what happened?" he asks, concern lacing his voice. his thumb begins gently tracing shapes on my, still, trembling hand. i watch him, trying to figure out why the boy who clearly didn't like me would care. i shake my head at him, not wanting to share my trauma with the boy.

"i'm fine," i say, my voice still fragile, "just got a bit overwhelmed in there," i try to let out a laugh. he stares at me for a moment, a soft look on his face, before he stands up and let's go of my hand. he sits on the seat next to me, running his hands over his face.

"that was more than just getting overwhelmed, bella," he says, now seeming stressed, "you were practically hyperventilating."

"it was nothing," i say, picking at my fingernails, all of a sudden feeling embarrassed that he witnessed that, "i'm fine."

"are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he asks, his pretty blue eyes burning into me. i shake my head.

"i'm fine, honestly," i say in a more stern voice, forcing myself to be confident so that he would believe me.

"i don't believe you," he states, as if he was reading my mind. i bring my awkward gaze to his face, inspecting his perfect features. we stare at each other for a couple of seconds and i feel myself begin to get lost in his eyes.

i snap myself back into reality, pushing away the thoughts of his hands holding mine, the thought of our lips connecting. it must be the alcohol, i think to myself.

"why do you care?" i ask, a stern tone coming from my mouth. i think back to the past week, how all he's done is make me feel uncomfortable whenever we're in the room. how he makes snide little comments under his breath whenever i say something. how he stares at me when he thinks i'm not looking. how he always seems to look good, even without trying. his smile.