Sweet Tooth [HS]

SEVENTY FOUR

Two weeks later.

Time slipped and it slid on, and on, and on.

Mornings became nights, light became dark, and Max's heart had not yet returned to her.

There was a space inside her, a gap inside her very soul. It was like a cavity, a hole, a gaping fucking wound the shape of Harry's fucking fist. She thought that if you tapped her you might hear the echo, all the way down.

And she was trying to ignore it, she was. In fact - she was trying to fill it.

With Finn - Finn was there, was there everyday since Max kissed him two weeks ago. He was helping to fill in the blanks and stop up the hole. She gave him Harry's old t-shirts. Let him stay over every night to fill up the emptiness. He was a bandaid for her broken heart, a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.

And it was selfish. Max knew it was selfish.

Because Finn was kind and he was gentle and he was sweet. When he kissed her it was soft and when he fucked her it was slow. And he was good. He was just a good fucking person who made her breakfast in the morning and made sure that she was eating. He told her she was beautiful and he never left without saying goodbye.

And Max was grateful for it. But not for his kindness or his caring - but for his simply being there. For the way she could close her eyes when he was inside of her, and recall a voice and a body and picture it was Harry. Was grateful for those few moments in her drowsy half-awakeness that lasted a second or maybe a minute - where she could forget everything and feel the hands around her and the body behind her and imagine, for a glorious, glossy moment - that it was somebody else.

Of course, that never lasted long. She would blink and her brain would start working, and she would turn and see Finn. All blonde hair and un-tattooed abdomen and feeling warm and not too hot.

There was no heart skipping a beat. No forgetting how to breathe. No insatiable desire that burst from her fucking soul to stay in his arms forever.

No.

There was actually no feeling at all.

So she tried her hardest not to notice the way Finn looked at her sometimes, in the morning or the seconds after she had stopped laughing. She changed their conversations at night, when she could feel the words Finn wanted to say, when he looked on the brink of saying something Max could not hear. She shut her eyes when they slept together. Taught herself not to flinch when they kissed.

Sometimes she wanted to scream You are not him. Sometimes wanted to cry I hate you. Which was unfair. And untrue. But it was all she thought when Finn touched her and when he fucked her and when he looked at her in that way.

She couldn't help wondering how Harry could do it. How he could just move on so quick. For Max, this was torture. This was nothing. But for Harry - he just did it. He just didn't care.

He just didn't love her enough, she supposed. Maybe he never loved her at all. And that was why he could just leave and not say goodbye and not miss her and not care and hold another woman the way Max used to be fucking held.

It sort of killed her inside.

And she was trying her hardest to churn the rejection into hate and the hate into this fuel that made her keep this whole thing up with Finn.

But it was only temporary and it was only guilt and it was just an endless nothingness and still wanting Harry and feeling so fucking selfish for not wanting Finn.

It was a mess.

God, it was a mess.

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another update coming later i know this is an iddy biddy one!! x