An Angel Wears Hightops [A Sequel to The Devil Wears Girl Jeans]

An Angel Wears Hightops (Chapter 27)

“Hello?” I called into the empty house, flicking light switches on as I made my way into the living room. Poe's winter coat had been thrown carelessly over the back of the couch, his shoes abandoned right beside it, causing me to frown. When Mickey had told me I could crash at Blake's place instead of going home and having to deal with all my mom's questions tonight, he hadn't mentioned anything about Poe being home.

Naturally, I checked the bathroom first, since Poe spent a majority of his time puking in the toilet these days. When I nudged the door open, though, it was empty, except for the usual stack of empty bottles and pile of crumpled clothes that had began to accumulate lately. I sighed, kicking debris out of my way as I headed back across the hallway to Poe's room.

His room was empty, but the large window that overlooked the neighbourhood was open, revealing a dark figure perched on the roof outside. He wasn't wearing a jacket, as had become the norm for him these days, and I could see the vague outline of a bottle dangling from his grasp.

“Dammit, Poe.” I muttered, stalking across the room and hoisting myself out the window. I stepped out onto the roof a few feet behind him, but he didn't turn around even though I knew he'd heard me.

“Poe... Why are you doing this to yourself?”

He shrugged, still not bothering to look at me as he took a long inhale from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of his nose like a dragon. He watched it vanish into the cold winter air, a distant look in his eyes.

“Come inside, put a jacket on. When's the last time you ate anything? You look terrible.” I informed him, taking a seat a few feet away, half because I wanted to give him his space, and half because inhaling second hand smoke wasn't really my idea of a good time.

He snorted, shaking his head slightly. “Go inside, Hartley. Go to bed, and leave me alone. You don't have to pretend to care about me, I'm not a charity case.”

“What are you talking about? I'm not 'pretending' to care about anything. Like, I can see your sadness consuming you, and it just sucks because there's nothing I can do except tell you I love you. Sometimes I worry that won't be enough though, like, I feel like you're already gone.”

“Wait, what?” he asked, actually turning to look at me, his lit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, “You love me?”

“Well, yeah. You guys took me in when I had no one else to go to, you helped me through everything. You're pretty much like a brother to me. I don't know what I did to make you hate me so much, but just know that I'm sorry.”

He stared at me for a long time, and unreadable expression on his face.

“You think I hate you?”

I nodded, pulling my sleeves tighter over my hands as a gust of wind hit us both, sending shivers down my spine. Poe didn't even flinch, although I noticed his skin was tinged purple from the cold.

“Hartley, I don't hate you. I just...I felt like you were intruding. It'd always been me and Mickey, and then you come in from nowhere dragging my long lost brother with you, and suddenly Mickey had someone else to spend all his time with. Did you ever stop to think about what I was doing while you two were out gallivanting all the time?”

I was silent, because to be honest, it had never even crossed my mind for a second that maybe Poe didn't actually have anyone else. That maybe Mickey was all he had left.

“I sat at home on the couch, alone, waiting for him to get back. Do you know how pathetic I felt? Even now, all I do is sit around and drink and be sad. I'm pretty much just a more annoying version of a plant, and it sucks because no one needs me. I mean, now I've gotten over it I guess, but...” he shrugged, shaking his head slightly, “Just...just know that I don't blame you anymore.”