smother. [h.s.]

17. lily of the valley

Psycho Killer - Talking Heads

With a trembling hand, I raise the handgun between us and press the barrel lightly against his chest.

"Why do you have a gun?"

Harry slowly pulls away from the crook of my neck, keeping his face near mine. He glances down at the gun between us and calmly wraps his fingers over my wrist. I stay frozen, unable to move under his hold. 

Instead of pushing it away, he presses the barrel of the gun harder against his sternum. 

"Are you going to shoot me?" he mutters, his nose grazing lightly against my cheek. 

I stiffen. My eyes uncontrollably glance back down to his lips, which are stained red from mine. The gun feels cold and heavy in my hands. I've never held one before, but I've seen it in movies a million times. My fingers naturally grip it in the correct grooves. I don't let up on my confident act. 

"Maybe," I breathe out, sliding the gun up the length of his chest until it hits the base of his neck.

His hand tightens on my wrist slightly. 

"It would be easy." He moves my hand, positioning the barrel right against his jugular vein. "Just one click."  

The pad of my pointer finger hovers above the trigger. It shakes slightly in fear of what it could do. My resolve begins to crack, my eyes frantically darting back and forth from his eyes to the gun. 

I shake my head. "You're sick in the head." 

Each time we come together, I uncover another piece of the puzzle. Somehow I leave understanding less and less. I've known about the illegal affairs that my friends have been involved in for years now, but I've always managed to stay away from it all. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Harry's ruined my ignorant bliss. 

"I'm normal compared to some of your friends."

"Normal?" A small, ingenuine laugh escapes my lips. 

"They might be rubbing off on you," he mutters, "you're the one pointing the gun at me, after all."

"I'm protecting myself."

The corner of his lips lifts in amusement. "From who?" He raises his hands up in the air in surrender.

I stare at Harry in silent defeat for a moment. He stares back and then leans his head down to mine. I stay still, my grip on the gun slightly relaxing. The side of his nose brushes against mine. I breathe in shallowly as my guard starts to break down again. 

When he's this close to me, I can't think about anything else. My mind goes blank. Every coherent thought is replaced with Harry Harry Harry. 

Our mouths hover over each other. The temptation takes control of me again, and I lean up into him, parting my lips slightly. 

Harry pulls away at the last second. 

He takes the opportunity to swiftly snatch the gun out of my loose hold. My weak hands scramble to grab it before he can turn it on me, but I realize what he's done a moment too late. He flips the gun around and presses the barrel against my bare chest, as I did to him. The metal feels cold and rough against my hot skin. 

"Are you going to shoot me?"  I repeat his words, my chest rising. 

I try to keep my cool, but the panic must show in my eyes. Harry's thumb drags down the side of my face until it reaches my bottom lip. He does the same motion he did at the bar, cleaning up the edges of my smudged lipstick with the pad of his finger. He brings his thumb back up to his own lips and lightly bites down on the skin with his front teeth.