runaways || h.s

four;

Hearing it from the outside, Harry instantly felt like he betrayed Lola. He hadn't seen what he'd done that bad or even a reason for Lola to be upset, but hearing the words come from her mouth, he even felt angry at himself.

"Do you want to know where I was, Harry?" She asked, her voice still raised and some of her words cracked. "I was with someone who was actually paying attention to me! Someone who seemed to be interested in what I had to say and what I did. And you know what, it felt fucking awesome."

He wanted to say that he was interested in what she had to say, that he does pay attention to her, but she wouldn't believe it, not now anyway. So instead, he stayed silent and just watched her yell and yell until she ran out of things to yell about and her breathing was heavy and her face bright red.

"I was ignored all my life, Harry," she said quietly, her voice quavering. "I'm done with it." And with that, she pushed passed Harry and stormed off into her room, making sure to slam the door behind her.

It was late when Lola finally came out of her room haven taken a long shower and an even longer nap. Though she wasn't exactly tired, she felt exhausted - and mighty hungry. Pushing open the door to her bedroom, she popped her head out to see if Harry was around. She didn't hear, or see, anything so she sauntered from her room and into the living area, where she froze when she saw Harry sitting in the center of the couch, a steaming mug of what smelt like hot cocoa in his hand, and his eyes trained on the TV.

"What are you doing?" She asked, not moving from her spot across the room.

His eyes lifted their gaze from the screen and looked her up and down before finally landing on her face; his emotion was unreadable. "Watching a film," he said, his eyes drifting back to the television.

"It's muted," Lola noted, quite confused. Harry wasn't acting the least bit normal, and she found it much more than odd. "Besides, don't you have work?" She shifted, now leaning against the wall.

"Called in sick," he said without looking at her or even towards her.

"It's only your second day. Are you asking to get fired?"

"I won't get fired."

"Oh, right, because you and Nic are fuck-buddies. I almost forgot," Lola said sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and pushing off the wall in hopes of finding something to eat in the kitchen.

Most of the cabinets were empty, other than the stack of paper plates and bowls Harry had picked up from the local grocery the first day. There were also a small amount of plastic utensils and cheap napkins. The fridge was basically empty; a bottle of mustard, a jar of pickles, and a jug of milk, being the only remnants of food left. She pulled a single pickle from the jar and munched on it while she looked for the box of hot cocoa that Harry must have found earlier.

"Are you looking for the cocoa?" Harry said from the doorway of the kitchen, startling Lola and making her drop her pickle onto the tiled floor.

"Oops," Lola giggled quietly, picking up the tarnished pickle from the floor and dropping it into the waste bin before nodding at Harry.

He turned and opened the cabinet beside the fridge, reaching to the very top shelf, and pulled down the box of hot chocolate, handing it over to Lola with a smile that he hoped she would return. "Here you are."

She took it and mumbled something that sounded like a thank-you before she turned to put the kettle, which she had filled with hot water, on the stove. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" She asked, her back towards Harry as her hands gripped the edge of the counter top. "Put the box all the way at the top so you would have to come to my rescue."