Adore [H.S.]

60

I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie

ISABELLA

The house was packed with people. It was an exact replica of the many house parties I had frequent back home. The average sized living room was dimly lit. Groups of people were scattered across. Some standing and others sitting. There was a thin layer of beer bottles and red cups on the floor. It was hard to believe that I wasn't actually at a high school party, but at a grown man's home. 

I followed close behind Harry. His grip still tight around my wrist. We squeezed and pushed through the mess of bodies. Drunk curses being slurred our way. 

A thin layer of smoke drifted through the cramped hallway. As we walked through, my vision grew hazy. I use my free hand to hold on to Harry's shirt, not wanting to lose him in this mess. I was beginning to question why I thought it'd be a good idea to do this. I was never one for these types of parties. Sweaty bodies and ear piercing techno beats was not my preferred cup of tea. Yet, here I was - with Harry - at a home that belonged to some guy Harry clearly didn't like. 

Some days I wondered if I thought before I acted. Clearly, that was not the case. 

"This way." Harry pulls me with him. He seems to know his way around the house, even though he claims to not have been here before. He pushes pass a couple who managed to remain in their heated lip lock. "For fucks sake," Harry mumbles under his breath. His agitation radiating off of his heated body. 

We finally manage to find a break in the crowd and stumble into the kitchen. It isn't as packed in here as the other rooms, but still full of drunk partiers. Harry reaches for two unopened bottles of coolers, passing me one. I look at the label, smiling to myself. Even when he was annoyed with me, he still made an effort to make me happy. Twisting the cap free, I take a sip of the cool lime flavored drink. My favourite. The liquid is cooling against my throat. The slight bitter aftertaste lingering on my tongue. "Thank you." 

"Mhm." He manages to reply to me before he too is drinking from his bottle. 

We stand there awkwardly in the kitchen. An assortment of party guests walk in and out, some stumbling, while others managed to hold themselves up with a bit of dignity. Harry doesn't say anything to me and I do not say anything to him. The silence between us is deafening. The uneasy tension thickening as time goes on. 

"Please talk to me," I finally break. I reach out for his arm. He retracts it back. An action that breaks my heart. 

"Not right now, Isabella." 

"I don't like this."

"I'm sure you don't." He takes another long sip from his glass. His eyes are focused on the people in front of us. His vision not faltering once. My silent pleas going unnoticed. 

"You made it!" The tension is broken between us by Mason's sudden appearance. He walks over to us, a large grin plastered on his lips. "I didn't think you'd show." He laughs at himself. His eyes are glazed over. An indication that he had already started drinking. 

"No, no. Of course we'd show." I laugh lightly, hoping the tension would ease off slightly. 

"I'm glad you came." He nods at both of us. 

However, Harry continues to remain silent. His gaze hardens towards Mason. His shoulders tensed and his forehead furrowed. I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind. What he was thinking right now. It was easy to guess how he was feeling. His heart written on his sleeve. Mason took notice of this. His feet shifting. His hands being pushed into his pockets. 

"Alright, well - the guys wanted to see you, Haz." 

I bite my lip at the mention of the nickname. The nickname that walked hand in hand with Harry's past. A nickname that ruined his heart- tore him inside. I prayed to whoever could hear me that he wouldn't blow up. That Harry would keep his cool and let it slide.