Golden // H.S

Chapter Eight

***

The next morning I struggle with getting up. My body is exhausted and so is my brain, making me close my eyes again, not wanting to leave the comfort of the flannel sheets. I let out a content hum, as I pulled the sheets closer to my chin.

I feel an arm tighten around my waist, and I look over my shoulder to see Harry. "Good morning," he mumbles, squinting at me. I look at him, not sure how I ended up here, as we're in the guestroom, and not on the couch. "Good morning."

"What time is it?" I ask, rubbing my eyes. His arm leaves me, as he reaches for his phone on the nightstand, checking the time. "It's half past twelve." My eyes widen, as I sit up quickly. "Fuck, I had a lecture at twelve," I mutter, jumping out of bed. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," Harry apologizes, and I frown. "No, don't be, it's my fault," I tell him, not wanting him to feel guilty about it, when it's my responsibility to keep up with school.

"Are you sure you should go?" Harry asks after I come back out of the bathroom, changed into some regular clothes. I look down at the clock, seeing that it's soon one anyways. "I assume I don't, maybe I'll just quit," I mutter, knowing I don't have any motivation.

"We can do some schoolwork, I'll help you," Harry suggests when we're eating breakfast. I look up at him, taking in his outfit. His black shirt clings to his chest, and the pair of jeans on his legs. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he smiles. "Ok, maybe I can't help you that much, but I'll keep you company," he continues, and I shrug.

As I sit down on the kitchen table reading through a chapter, I feel Harry glance over at me every now and then. When I look up at him, he keeps eye contact. A smile is plastered on his face, as he asks me if I'm good. This goes on for about an hour, before I put my pen down and rub my tired eyes.

"Enough?" Harry asks, motioning to my school work. "I should-" I begin, but he cuts me off. "'You should' is not an argument, Lena. If your head doesn't follow then you need a break," Harry 's voice is strict, but still full of care. "But Harry, if I don't read I won't pass." I get that he hasn't finished school, but you would think he knew this.

"I don't want you to hurt, Lena." He's mumbling it, while looking down at his hands fiddling with a piece of paper. "I mean, yesterday was terrible, I had no idea what to do or how to help you," he continues, still keeping his look down.

"You were really helpful, Harry, I really appreciate you," I tell him, and his fiddling becomes more and more frustrated. "I didn't feel like I was, Lena. Is it ok if we talk about it a little, I want to know some stuff about it? Are you comfortable with that?" Harry asks, and I bite my lip, as I know I haven't really spoken about anyone about it. In addition to that, people usually just start talking about hard stuff, they don't ask if you're comfortable with it.

I have come to realize that Harry cares about how other people feel, before they think about his own health and mentality. I appreciate it so much, but I still want him to think of himself, and his problems.

"It's ok. What do you want to know?" I asked him, and for the first time in a while he glanced up at me. "What causes it?" he asks softly, seeming a little unsure about what's ok to ask and not. I take a deep breath, knowing he just wants to understand, and I want to help him with that as much as I can.

"I guess school, mostly. I never felt like this when it comes to work, as I like it, it's a freespace. School isn't that. I have always been working for good grades, like hard. Sometimes it gets too much. Stresses me out, you know. I think it would be better if I was doing something I'm really passionate about, but who knows," I tell him honestly, as he frowns.

"Is it every time you work with school?" he asks, and I shake my head. "No, just sometimes. If I have a lot to do," I explain, and he continues fiddling with the paper in his hands. "What do you mean by 'it would be better if you did something you're passionate about?'" he asks, sliding his chair a little closer to me.