Five: The Street

371 22 0
                                    

"Where's Liam?" The next morning doesn't greet either of them with cheery smiles or any sort of pep, even if it's veering toward noon and they're just checking out. And Lidia's first concern had been the lack of their complimentary room service stolen directly by Liam.

"Oh, he was suspended from work this morning."

"What's that mean?" Harry asks, handing over the two key cards to the hotel receptionist they had learned how to expertly sneak pass over the last few months.

"He broke company policy, but they didn't fire him. He should be back in a couple weeks." The smile that graces her face did not at all match the horrified looks on both Harry and Lidia's, especially not when he turns to his partner in crime like their futures are completely doomed now.

"Okay, thanks." Grabbing their stuff, Harry follows Lidia through the lobby and out onto their familiar streets, the ones they'd be going back to if Liam really is no longer able to get them in the Klein.

"The fuck are we supposed to do now?" Harry asks, not really looking for a solid answer from Lidia, but more to let out his anxieties as he fixes his bag on his shoulder and takes the battered guitar case from her she'd been carrying for him.

"We'll be fine. I'll text him later and see what happened."

"Can't even get a fucking hotel, even if we had the money we don't have a fucking card without him." The dark thoughts on his mind race out of his mouth a mile a minute and she has to slap her hands down on top of his shoulders to get him to focus.

"Harry, we'll be fine. Even if we have to sleep on the sidewalk, we'll be okay."

"How is that okay, Lidia?"

She winces when he says her full name like that, even more so when his eyes are darting back and forth between hers as if she's almost lost him to the panic. "Because you'll be there and that's what matters."

"I can't do anything! You'd be just fine on your own, Lids."

"Stop." She closes her eyes for a brief moment as his words bring back the times she was alone and how not fine she was doing. They need each other and if she has to slap him across the face to get him to realize it, she'll do it. "Harry, listen to me." She's not sure if he is entirely, but she seems to have more or less of his attention, "This is not the worst thing that has ever happened to us and we made it through all of that worse stuff. You just need to breathe and trust me."

It doesn't come without hesitation, but he does eventually let out a big sigh of air from his nose when everything she says puts his worries at bay. "M'sorry."

Her toothy grin before he even gets his entire one-worded apology out of his mouth is the perfect cherry on top to calm him down completely. "Let's go. I'm starving."

"So you feel better then?" She drops her hand into his, lacing their fingers together before persuading his legs to follow beside hers toward the closest fast food chain on her mind.

"Yeah, I told you I think it was because I took too much."

"Hm." She can tell there are other ideas about her sudden sickness racing through his mind as she watches him while his thoughtful eyes are lost to the sidewalk below them as they walk side by side.

She knows he's right to question her excuse, too. No matter how good of one it is. Because it is still just that—an excuse. One she's trying hard to convince herself of as well.



"Get to know the feeling of liberation and release," Harry sits in his usual spot with his guitar case open in front of him and a small pile of people's loose change glaring at him dauntingly. He wishes he was in a better mood, to put on a better show in hopes of getting a little more money, but nothing can come out of him except for the slow, sad songs. His worries are just about eating him alive because he hasn't lifted his head to any one of the onlookers who have passed him in the last hour and an old piece of blackened gum stuck to the concrete below him isn't really that interesting to stare at, but he is far too distracted to pay anything else any attention. After a momentary lapse, he continues strumming the old secondhand guitar into the chorus of the song as he sings it mostly to himself, "Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over."

Counting StarsWhere stories live. Discover now