From The Dining Table [H.S]

I Feel Loved

The quiet ones were the worst. The silent attacks. It's just me, and it. Them. Her. Him. Whatever, or whoever is doing this to me. I seem okay - there's no visible signs of distress - but I'm disconnected. I'm more than disconnected, I'm lost.

We could be having a completely normal conversation and I could be completely fine, and then one gust of wind, one word, one laugh, one gesture, one touch will ignite the burning inside. And when the fire starts, you can't put it out. You have to wait out the pain until the pain decides it's done with you, until it decides you've had enough, until a split second more would kill you.

The first silent one was paralysing: I was alone, watching TV like every evening, and then all of a sudden I couldn't move. My eyes wouldn't blink as I stared hopelessly into the abyss, my hands frozen to my thighs, my back glued to the sofa. Visibly, I was fine. I just looked intense. However, it wasn't until I came back to normality that I realised I hadn't been moving at all.

"So..." Angel began, clearing his throat. "When's Harry coming over?" He walks to the other side of the room, fiddling with some tinsel draped from one of the boxes in clear awkwardness.

"Not sure." I reply shortly, approaching him to close the distance he created. "He told me he needed a week, and it's been longer than a week. Could be any day now." I continue, taking the tinsel from the box so we were both holding it, hoping we could decorate with it together. Angel drops it immediately, moving away from me once again.

"Don't worry - I'm sure you won't be here when he comes." I add on in slight childishness, annoyed at how petty he was being. If you can't beat them...

His head looks up to mine, his eyes flicking from mine to the distant sofa. "That's not what I meant, Primrose." He says quietly. "I'm leaving in a minute anyways."

"What?" I choke out in shock, not expecting that news. "Where are you going?"

"Phoenix and I are spending Christmas together." Angel tells me. "I'm leaving at 11."

The clock read 10:22amHe really was leaving in a minute.

"I- uhh" I struggle to find words. "I didn't realise you and Phoenix were still together." I reply, placing the tinsel back in the box.

Angel rolls his eyes, looking away from me for a few moments. "why would you? It's not like I talk about him every day." Angel mumbles, storming into the kitchen without looking back.

"Angel!" I yell, chasing after him, but I don't even make it two steps  until he's barging into the room again, bag on shoulder. I watch as he quickly shoves on his shoes, messily putting on his coat in his hurry to clearly leave.

"I listen to everything you say about Harry, why can't you listen to me?" Angel says quietly, trying to hide the anger seething through his teeth.  He leaves down my stairs without another word, clearly not phased by the bad blood he just created between us.

My feet race after him, fearful of sparking another feud between us. "Angel!" I yell sternly, grabbing onto the bar to stop my movement. His body froze: his hand firmly grasping the doorknob as his body stood hunched and serious. Looking at me through his long hair acting like a shield, his heavy breathing was the only noise filling the void between us.

Shakily, I swallowed down my rapidly beating heart as my voice weakly carried through the room. "I know you don't like Harry, but you cannot use him as the source of all our problems." Angel stands up straight, the white around his knuckles dissipating into his tan complexion as his hand loosened its hold. I go on, "I don't mean to not listen. I've just not been in the best headspace recently, and-"

"Then talk to me about it." Angel interrupts, turning to face me abruptly, his eyes slightly glossy. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me about it." He exhales, dropping his hand fully from the door as if he was fully accepting himself to this conversation.