Flight risk. [h.s]

035.

TW- 

-talk of drug abuse
-overdose 
-poor mental health 
-withdrawals
-brief mention of vomit. 

★

The movie played in the background for the second time today but my focus was entirely on him.

Sitting as far away from me as possible, Harry stiffly sits in a rigid position on the other end of the couch. His eyes are glued to the TV screen where 'Grease' plays again. I know that he knows it well enough to not have to pay attention but he would rather watch that than talk to me.

I got discharged yesterday.

I was in the hospital back in Palm Springs for two nights until they let me go home.

Only I didn't go home.

Harry brought me back to his house instead of mine but he is barely speaking to me.

Last night he made a simple pasta dish in silence, he didn't even turn on his record player like usual or pull me to dance with him in the kitchen while I protested.

Instead, he slid a full plate my way as well as a fork and then gave me a pointed look, "Eat."

Priya and Akira stayed for dinner, all four of us chewing in muted silence that began to feel awkward after seconds. Shortly after we ate, Akira helped Harry to clean up the dishes while Priya helped me get ready for bed.

I was still a little fragile as she helped me shower and change for the evening. She promised to come by today to check on me and then left after placing a kiss on my forehead.

No one had addressed the elephant in the room, no one had dared to ask the questions that were burning on the tips of their tongues.

Priya and Akira left Harry's house. About an hour later, Harry came upstairs to his bedroom and climbed into bed beside me after quickly showering and brushing his teeth.

It was still early and so I expected him to sit up and talk to me; shout at me, get mad or something. But he didn't.

He leaned over with a small, fake smile and kissed my cheek softly once in an action that was way too quick to heal my aching heart. He switched off the lamp, rolled away from me and laid there in silence.

For hours, we laid in silence while staring at the dark ceiling above us. I could tell that Harry wasn't asleep because his breathing was too heavy and too quick. He was simply pretending so he didn't have to speak to me.

When I woke up this morning, he was already gone. The bed was made on his side, the covers tucked up neatly around me as if he had tucked me back in like a helpless child.

Maybe that's how he sees me now. Helpless and child-like.

Looking at him now, I scan my eyes over the scruffy stubble that he has left unshaved on his face. He has a rough looking hoodie that has seen better days wrapped around his body. The cuffs are fraying, faded and worn as he tucks them over his hands and makes these little paws with the material.