[H.S] Shots

The bookshop in the Courtern [2]

Harry follows quietly behind YN as they walk across the shop. He isn’t used to being this quiet and he’s feeling unease; he’s always hated silence, and he really hopes she was joking with her little ‘no talking’ rule, as he’s not so sure he could easily comply.

It’s so silent between them Harry can hear her soft breaths coming from her parted lips and the sound of her shoes patting against the wooden squeaky floor. He really wants to say something. Silence is suffocating to him, gives him too much time to think and he hates that. He’s never really gotten the saying ‘comfortable silence’: It’s rather oxymoronic to him. What could ever be comfortable about silence?

“Where are we going?” He decides to ask her, only to break the silence, really, because he knows already where they’re going.

She turns her head around quickly, her eyes lowered in two slits as she glares at him. She doesn’t say anything, though, and she just turns her head back and keeps on walking

Harry isn’t sure he wants to test her more, and opts for staying silent, looking around the place instead. He figures he’s going to spend quite some time here so he might as well get to know the place.

It’s mostly books on shelves, though, and he reads the titles in his mind as a way to not think too much about the suffocating quietness that lingers between them.

He can admit, it’s a great collection. He was never much of a reader as a kid, but after XFactor and while he was in the band, he felt the need to improve himself. He felt uncomfortable when he had to tell people he never finished school, so he decided to at least get a culture on his own.

His interest in reading came in phases, really, and he could’ve sworn he read a book from each genre. He laughs through his nose, as he’s still following behind her, when he remembers reading a book about a serial killer who killed women because he liked the way they smelled. He doesn’t know why he’s laughing, it was rather a creepy book and he had nightmares for weeks up to the point he had to ask Jeff if he could book a double and sleep in the same room with him.

He even had a self-help book phase, but that was more for his personal wellbeing rather than general culture. He recall they did help, but he stopped buying them after that one time Jeff accidentally opened his Amazon package and found inside the ‘How to live with anxiety: A guide’ he had bought the previous day.

He was so embarrassed Jeff could get even a glimpse of his true, internal being he told him he bought it for a girl he was dating at the time. Jeff didn’t question him, it’s not like he cared. Harry knew there wasn’t anything wrong with his anxiety, of course he did; he was more embarrassed about people perceiving him as a real person with struggles and feelings. He had gotten used to being the funny guy everywhere he went, so he thought he wouldn’t be perceived as fun if people knew he suffered from anxiety.

They come to a stop once they reach a wooden door in the back, and Harry watches as she fishes inside the front pocket of her jeans and takes out a single gold key. She twists it inside the door’s lock and the lock opens with a pop.

“C’mon” she says, when she notices Harry didn’t follow her inside.

“What is this place?”

She sighs at his words; he had already broken her rule twice, and she wasn’t sure she could put up with him any longer. She’s beginning to ask herself if the money’s really worth it, but 500 pounds a week sound like new heaters for the bookshop and at least two first editions of Jane Austen’s, so she bites her bitter remark ready to come out, and says instead: “What do you think?” She gestures for him to come inside, and he does, albeit hesitantly.