Introspective Strangers [h.s.]

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"So... no pet names, huh?" Harry asked, his voice muffled by the damp washcloth he now held over his nose.

I didn't answer him and continued to busy myself putting away all of the unneeded supplies that I had earlier pulled out, the sound of his cartilage snapping back into place still rattling around in my brain. I tried to push the thought away, cringing.

"Not from you," I answered finally, flicking the light of the bathroom off and walking out the door, leaving him sitting on the toilet. I heard him scramble to get up and follow me out, cursing under his breath that I had left him sitting in the dark.

I walked down the hallway towards the kitchen with Harry hot on my heels and am halted in my tracks when he jumped in front of me. I exhaled and put my non-injured hand on my hip, waiting for whatever it was he was going to spew.

"What's your deal with me?" He grumbled, taking a frustrated breath through his mouth due to his current inability to use his nose.

I flitted my eyes from his face and to the kitchen, reaching up to grab the blood-soaked washcloth from his grip. Harry looked confused as I pulled it away from him and walked around his staggering frame to the sink a few steps away. He turned to watch me as I jerked the tap on and ran the rag under the water, ringing it out and watching the blood drain away. I turned the tap off and proceeded to neatly fold it in half.

"That's just it," I said softly, as I made my way back over to him. I placed the cloth back over his nose and guided his hand up to support it. "I don't have any deal with you. I'd prefer it if you just called me May. It's rude to call people endearing names whom you aren't sufficiently acquainted with or if you don't know that they are okay with it. I sure hope you don't pick girls up that way, it can make them feel very targeted and uncomfortable."

Harry shuffled awkwardly on his feet, looking down at the ground, as I walked back into the kitchen and over to the freezer. Opening it up, I pulled out an icepack, grabbing some paper towel from the counter to wrap it in and held it against my bruised hand. I refrained from audibly moaning at the relief, not having realized just how bad it had been hurting up until now.

"'M sorry," Harry grunted finally as I looked up at him, resting my hip on the counter. "I was just trying to be nice. Hard to do anyway with someone who hates you."

I rolled my eyes again. "I don't hate you."

"Fuckin' seems like you do!" Harry said a little loudly, throwing his open arm out in front of him. I glanced to his hand, noticing rings adorned on most of his fingers. They caught and gleamed in the light, some part of me wanting to walk over and exam each one individually.

I cleared my throat, tearing my vision back up to his face. "Because I punched you? I only did it because you scared me! You know that."

"Not because you punched me," he said, and his voice had risen yet again. "Because you haven't been nice or talked to me. I've tried this whole time to crack jokes or make conversation and you've done your best just to act like I'm not even here."

"Been nice?" I scoffed. "I'm sorry, did you want me to be bowing at your feet? To offer you a drink or maybe some fucking turn down service? I don't really know what you expected, but even though I punched you, I don't owe you anything. That includes kindness."

My drunk fury came back full force and I clenched my jaw.

"I didn't mean that, and you know it!" Harry yelled. "You keep trying to twist my words around-"

"Oh, that's what you think?!" I exclaimed. "I am doing no such thing-"

"Yes, you are! Jesus Christ," Harry aggressively ran a hand through his hair, grabbing it at the roots. "I'm saying that I want to be your friend or at least be cordial with you and I don't even fucking know how! You aren't giving me any indication on how to do that. I'm sorry if I came off as weird or creepy, but you need to use your words and tell me that – not just wait until the last thing that sets you off!"