Lost & Found | Harry Bingham

Chapter two:

The sound of breaking dishes jolted me awake. My eyes were groggy and dried drool was crusted to the side of my face. I used the back of my hand to wipe away the drool from my cheek and rubbed my eyes half-asleep with the comforter.
"Fuck," harry muttered from the kitchen.
He was hardly visible from the living room, a mess of brown strands and dark bags under his eyes. I stood up and stretched letting out a long yawn. That was one of the most peaceful sleeps I think I have ever had.
"Morning," I cooed, walking into the kitchen.
"I'm so sorry if I woke you up," Harry said sincerely, two cups of steaming coffee in his hand.
He stepped around the pieces of broken glass, ignoring their sharp edges. Harry handed me one of the cups before sitting down at the oak dinning room table.
"Coffee definitely makes up for it," I replied, taking a small sip of the hot beverage.
"Good. I was planning on walking you a lot smoother than that," Harry spoke groggily, letting out a small yawn.
"Did you sleep at all last night," I questioned.
I wrapped my hands around the coffee cup allowing the warmth to seep into my skin.
"I couldn't. This is all too weird. Plus I had the spin for most of the night," he confessed, running his fingers through his messy hair.
"Yah, this is all really weird," I admitted.
"You snore," Harry said with a half-smile.
I scoffed, "I do not."
"Oh, but you do," he teased, looking down at the table, "I wish I would have met you sooner."
I looked over at him, a hint of confusion on my face.
"What do you mean?"
"There's something about you. I know it's strange but you have to feel it too. It's like we're drawn to each other. I feel like I've known you my whole life. Tell me I'm not insane," Harry replied, starring at his coffee.
His finger circled the rim of his coffee cup, and his face had a sad demeanour to it. He didn't need to explain it to me. I could feel it last night, it's mostly why I stuck around for so long with his stubborn drunk foolishness. His presence was comforting. In a sea of overwhelming emotions, it was like he grounded me. And I know that is insane to say when I've only known a person for such a short period of time.
"I feel it too."
"Really?" He looked up at me, a wide smile stretched across his lips.
"I think it's best though if we just give it time and try to figure out what we're feeling."
Harry's phone went off inside of his pocket, he picked it up and seemed to read a text message.
"No parents are back yet," Harry sighed, a tone of disappointment.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Be sorry that we have to go to the church and deal with Casandra acting like she's the leader of us," Harry groaned, standing up from the table.
"Why does everyone follow her?" I asked genuinely clueless.
"I guess cause she is a strong leader. She's decisive, but that doesn't mean I want to follow her rules," he explained as he shoved his phone and keys into the pocket of his jeans.
He grabbed a broom and began to clean up the white glass shards off the kitchen floor.
"And here I thought, this new world would have freedom," I groaned, "Also I'm not going. I have something I'd prefer to do."
He stopped what he was doing and looked up at me, a shard of glass glided across his finger. And before either of us could react there were small droplet of crimson liquid on the floor.
"Shit," he murmured, rushing to the sink.
I rushed over to him, grabbing his hand and placing it under the cold steam of water. Harry winced in pain. My heart panicked, it hurt Harry, and I hated it.
"I'm fine," he grunted.
"You need to be careful," I replied cautiously.
"It was just a small cut," Harry chuckled, pulling his hand up to examine it.
A small cut was placed on his index finger,but it was already clotted.
"I couldn't help myself," I explained myself, taking a step away from him.
Everything happened so fast. I couldn't help the overwhelming feeling like I needed to help him or he'd die. I felt foolish for being so dramatic, it had to be these stupid feelings that we were feeling. But was feelings or an obsession.
"It's okay," Harry smiled.
"I'm going to go," I spoke disembodied.
"Wait. When will I see you again?" Harry questioned.
"I don't know."

After leaving Harry's everything felt like it was back to normal. My heartbeat wasn't pacing and my breathing was normal again. What the hell was going on. It was like he was a drug, and when I was around him I was maniac or hysterical. I could no longer think about anything but him. Was this what people claimed was love at first sight? That feels like completely bullshit to me. There had to be some underlying reason why we both felt this way.

Twenty minutes later and I was standing outside of the same house that contained my life for eighteen years. Why was I never allowed to leave? Why didn't I just leave, anyway? It was all strange that I had no answers for any of these questions. And I was going toget to the bottom of it. I wandered around the house analyzing everything. There are memories, each object that was immaculately in their designated spots had some reason for being there. Nothing made sense. I had the memories, but I didn't have the emotions or the answers. And what kind of perfect town would allow two people to leave their kid locked away from the world? Wouldn't social services get involved? I had so many questions that burned in my mind. But my biggest question. I don't remember getting on that bus.