Pretty Punk Cherry

19 ⭑ Are we gonna play a game?

"Let me in-stop holding the door, what the fuck did you do!?" I shoved my body against the door and it flew open, the force of my shove sending Harlow backward onto the desk right next to the door. It rattled and he knocked several things over but I caught him just in time. He struggled to keep himself up though and I watched his eyes lull closed like he was tired, "You son of a bitch, what did you take?!"

"N-nothing, nothing...."

"Bullshit!" I cursed, carrying him over toward the bed and then dropping him down onto his comforter, "Hey." I smacked his face, "Wake up! Harlow, what did you take?!"

"I feel better, it doesn't even matter." He slipped into a whisper as he slowly smiled up at me, "Come lay down, just come." He raised his hand and held it out to me.

"No, you're on something, I'm not-"

"Just come!" His voice raised lazily and it took him nearly twenty whole seconds to sit up and take my hand while I gazed around for any indicator of the things he might've taken. There was his regular anxiety meds on the dresser, but that was full and there was no coke in sight, or alc, not even weed.

I didn't think I saw anything.

Until I turned my head around and looked at his left bedside table.

The top drawer was cracked open.

And my gun was in it.

Like a secret he'd attempted to hide away, it was tucked just inside, handle first.

Fuck.

My heart began to race as Harlow hugged around my waist, but I was forced to think about something else momentarily because he was undoing my jeans with his mouth, "Harlow-" I grabbed his hair and pulled him off, "No. You're fucking wasted and you're not okay. Talk to me. What's going on?" I was getting increasingly more worried by the second, "Harlow!"

"You can get angry if you want to." He tilted his head back a little, his eyes dull and dead, "You can smack me around all you want, I don't care-"

I lowered myself a little bit so we were eye to eye, "I don't want to smack you around, I don't want to do anything with you except talk-"

"Why not?" Harlow cut me off, irritation peaking in his voice, "Am I not what you want anymore? Am I not your pretty boy anymore? Huh? Who'd you replace me with? Who feels better than me-who, Niko?" he repeated, taking the hand he was holding of mine to wrap it around his neck.

I let him, but I didn't do what he wanted, I just held it there, feeling his heart beat, "H..." I whispered, "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"It's better you than me." He was getting angrier, placing his hand on top of mine around his neck. He didn't have the strength to make me squeeze like he wanted, yet, it still bothered me so I tried to take my hand away.

"Okay, just sit down-"

"Why won't you give me what I want?" Harlow stood up instead, coming face to face with me. His face was contorted between pain and frustration, and his voice conveyed that, "Just take the power away, c'mon. Just hit me."

I knew what he was doing, he'd done it often times before. He would provoke me until I did what he wanted or until I got so angry I just left him alone. N' both were things that let him win.

But I didn't wanna buckle this time, not while knowing there was a gun so close.

And he knew that too.

"You don't have to worry, you know." Harlow said, wrapping his arms around my neck and laughing hoarsely under his breath. I felt it tickle my lips and he got close enough that our eyes couldn't make contact anymore, "I'm too much of a bitch to kill myself." he whispered.