Harrison Avenue // H.S.

Wrestle Mania

Harry's bag is at the end of the bed, sitting there, taunting me... yelling with an evil laugh accompanied with the more evil words of, "Elle, I get him all to myself and you don't get to see him for an entire month." And Harry's in and out of our closet, choosing between shirts, packing socks, and leaving the room every once in a while to grab something for the music aspect of his trip where he'll return to the room always with a smile on his face as I sulk at the top of the bed.

He's trying to smile his way into making me happy and I know he knows that I rarely ever go for that.

The bag is just sitting there, open with clothes packed inside, hinting at the fact that Harry is about to leave me and I just have to stay here and pretend that I'm only happy for him.

And I am happy for him, but I'm also selfish, and I don't want him to leave.

"Ellison," he starts to scold me. "Will you stop with the pout, baby. It's really bringing my mood down."

"Why are you leaving me?" I ask, not stopping at all with the pout like he's asked.

"Ellison," he says my name again, shaking his head this time. "You know that I'm not leaving you. It will be a month, that's all. Don't make this more dramatic than it needs to be."

This makes me want to yell at him, and I think he sees that in my face because the expression on his immediately changes, like he's ready to pounce with an apology to fend off an impending argument. Harry knows me too well. He's right too, because I am making this more dramatic than it needs to be, but I know that he also knows that in some cases it's just in my nature. He isn't leaving me forever. He's just leaving me alone in New York City for the first time since we've been here together, which is like a seven year streak.

Well, not the first time completely. He's made a few trips that lasted no more than a few days without me... and those always felt difficult too. This time is a lot more than a few days, it's a whole thirty-one days where I won't see him, where he'll be across the fucking country for half of it and honestly I think I'm losing my mind a little bit.

"Well, fuck you, I'm just going to miss you," I almost growl at him, and he immediately laughs. This was not the intended reaction I was hoping to get out of him and I want to yell at him again because his laughter coaxes some out of me too.

"Ellison," he says my name for the third time in the last two minutes. "I'm going to miss you. Do you doubt this?"

"No," I pout again, crossing my arms in front of my chest like a child.

I cross my legs too, sinking down in the bed slightly as I do. This causes Harry's shirt that I'm wearing to bunch around my hips more, giving Harry more than a view of the pink underwear that I'm wearing. I catch him staring, and I just smirk for a moment, not bothering to adjust anything to sour the view.

He's such a perv sometimes.

"I swear you do this on purpose," he continues to stare at me, absentmindedly folding the shirt in his hands over and over again as he's clearly distracted.

"Do what?" I ask, as I move a finger toward my mouth, biting gently. I wasn't doing anything on purpose but now that he's mentioned it, I decide to play up the new intention. He folds the shirt in his hands again, biting his bottom lip now, still staring at me with a heavy look in his eyes.

He isn't leaving me. He's only going on tour. Of course it's exciting. We both did a jump around the room when we it became official because we were both so excited. There's another layer to it though because I can't go with him like I originally thought would be the case. You would think that with me being a freelance painter I'd have all the freedom out there. However, I recently got a real job to go along that at an art gallery and I can't just pick up and leave quite yet. So Harry will be living out of a van for a month, taking on the road, playing in places he's never even seen before, and I'll be here in New York, just waiting for him to get back.