stripper killer [matty healy]

sixteen - irrational

irrational:(adjective) not logical or reasonable.

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india

it all happened so fast... too fast.

matty hit harry,

harry hit matty,

matty hit harry,

harry hit matty...

and it carried on like that until i was eventually able to break it up. both of them were bloody and bruised and honestly, i wasn't sure who won, and even more, who i wanted to win. but i guess that didn't matter now considering matty stormed out a considerable amount of time ago and harry had been crying again.

"well what do you think...?" i hear harry's voice again. "are you even listening?"

"mhm" i groan while biting on my nails. i wasn't. well, i was partially. not as much as i could be. it was nothing against harry at all, it's just i couldn't stop thinking about matty and his behaviour this morning - it was literally taking over my mind.

"so, then what do you think?" he presses again.

i remove my hand from my mouth and fold my arms across the table, trying to shake myself from my thoughts to focus on harry - who quite frankly needed me right now. i stare at him as he waits expectantly for an answer. the whole left side of his face was swollen and he'd once again removed the ice pack from his face despite having told him repeatedly to hold it there.

"i think..." i breathe, mentally recollecting everything he had been talking about for the past ten minutes. "i think you should go with the daisies. because even though people would say they're not funeral appropriate, they were her favourite and that's what matters, right?"

“you're right. but, what about music?" his eyes spark with concern once more.

i let out a sigh, a little louder than expected. it's just-well-in the nicest way possible, talking about funerals was not how i wanted to spend my day. and i think he picked up on it.

he bites his bottom lip and pulls himself up from his chair. "well, i best be going. i have to ring my parents. they'll obviously want to help arranging everything."

"harry..." i reach out and grab his hand. "i'm sorry. i am trying."

his face softens at my apology. "i know. i'm just going crazy about all this. i'm not meaning to drag you down with me. but - losing her has broken me. and i'm not sure i know how to fix myself."

i rub my thumb over the back of his hand slowly and let out the breath i didn't know i had been holding. "i know. but we'll figure it out together."

he twists his hand so my fingers were now lay across his palm and squeezes his palm closed around them. "promise?"

i think quickly before i respond. did i really want to promise him this? i mean after all we're not exactly close and until recently i didn't even like him. it went from a kiss in the lift (and by kiss i mean the most hot, steamy, sexiest kisses i've ever had) to helping him get over his murdered sister. it all seemed a little sudden... but-the look on his face said there was no way i could take it back now so i just nod reassuringly before i rise from my seat to escort him to the door - after having worked my way around the broken glass and ornaments he and matty had smashed during their scrap earlier.

moments before we reach the door i feel his warm hand grab my own again and pull me backwards and twisting me to face him. his hips dig into mine as he pushes me into the closed door behind me.

"harry!" i squirm, in attempt to wriggle free but then his gaze meets mine and my knees buckle and all of a sudden

i forgot

i forgot how green his eyes were, that beautiful jade colour that has tempted me in many times before. i forgot how sharp his jaw was, how it could cut glass. i forgot how perfect each stray curl was that fell into his face whenever he abandoned the bandana, and how much i wanted to just run my fingers through them. i forgot how pink and plump his lips were, and how they would part slightly whenever we became close, as though he was struggling for air.

i forgot

i forgot how to breathe.

i forgot why i ever wanted him to leave in the first place.

his eyes flick between from my own, to my lips and back before he moves his mouth to my ear and whispers, sending chills down my spine. "can i kiss you 12c?

at this point i know i should be pulling away, throwing him out and locking the door. this isn't what either of us really want or need. we're nothing to each other and we never will be. i'm his friend, here to help, that's all. kissing him will not help. our judgement is hazy because he's lonely and i'm blinded by his looks. it's totally irrational. he's just numb, searching for something that will light a spark in him, enabling him to feel again. i'm not his spark. i cannot do this; i can't be his temporary medicine. a medicine to all this madness. i can't kiss him. i won't kiss him. no.

no.

no.

“yes."

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