Marley steps up the creaky wooden stairs to her porch. Goes to open the door, but it's locked. Which means Jax isn't home. She just sighs and pulls out her key from her pocket.
Because no matter what, her brother looks like deception and smells like addiction. But Marley is used to that so she says nothing.
"Make yourself at home." She gestures around the small space as she steps through the door, closing it behind her company.
Maybe after he sees this dump he'll go away.
Maria's words ring through Marley's ears like she's in the room with them. But she figured out long ago that no one can hear Maria except her.
Because Marley is all cold fingers and half-crazed minds and crystal blue eyes that remind a certain boy of icicles and frost-bitten noses.
Harry looks around the room and sees old furniture and a shabby area rug but somehow it looks more like a home than his ever did. Because new, new, new is not always better.
"Nice house." He murmurs but Marley only scoffs.
"Yeah, sure." She rolls her eyes before ascending the stairs that lead to her room. She half expects him not to follow. To see this awful place in comparison to his and leave.
But a second later she hears the steps creak behind her and she knows that maybe, just maybe, he might be a better person than she hoped.
And Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to fix her.
"So this is my room. Isn't it just wonderful?" Marley asks sarcastically. Leans against her desk. Hides her hands in the sleeves of her sweater.
Because Marley is all cold fingers after all. And half crazed minds. And crystal blue eyes.
Harry walks to her bookcase. It's more bare than his, but he still recognizes a few titles. "You like classics?"
He pulls out an old-looking copy of Little Women. A story he remembers being forced to read in school a few years ago.
"I used to." She says softly. Shrugs. "I don't read so much anymore."
"Why not?" He asks, flipping over the novel to inspect the binding before putting it back.
"Sometimes the silence is just too loud." Marley mumbles. Looks at her sleeve-covered fingers. "Sometimes I wish I could escape my head and into a book. But I just can't anymore."
Harry can see that Marley is suddenly vulnerable as she speaks her mind. Her hair falling around her face like a curtain to the world. But he thinks for a moment that this is the real Marley. Beautiful and broken.
"Sorry. I'm being weird." She quickly apologizes. Tucks her hair behind her ear. Licks her dry lips. And stares out the window above her mattress.
"It's okay." Harry says, walking toward her. He stops just a bit farther away than he would like to. But he doesn't want to scare her. "You're very poetic when you speak your mind."
Marley just laughs. "You know, I keep thinking that after you learn more about me, you'll run for the hills. And yet here you are."
Harry doesn't really know what to say. Does she really want him to go away? The thought makes his heart sink a little.
"Why?" She adds.
"Because you're Marley Parker." He shrugs. Takes one of her sleeve-covered hands. And he can feel her cold fingers even through the fabric. "And you're the only person who makes me feel like me. Because you're the girl with the crystal blue eyes that I can't get out of my head. Because they remind me of icicles and frost-bitten noses. And you have cold fingers. And your hair is so light brown it's nearly blonde."
He tucks a loose strand behind her ear. Surprised she doesn't flinch away.
"And because you're Marley Parker."
Marley looks up at him. Smiles softly because that's the sweetest and most poetic thing anyone has ever said to her.
And because Harry is all warm smiles and selfless gestures and sweet, poetic words that make her smile. And he's tired of sleeping alone.
So maybe they can be broken together.
He's just saying what you want to hear. He's obviously manipulating you, Marley! Don't fall for his tricks!
Harry is focused on her cold fingers in his hands. Seeing how skinny, skinny, skinny they are.
He knows there is something she's hiding but doesn't want to push her. "I don't think you know how beautiful you are, Marley."
"I don't think you know how messed up I am, Harry." Marley shakes her head.
Harry wants to kiss her. Boy, does he want to kiss her.
But he can't, can't, can't. Because Marley is all cold fingers and half-crazed minds and sleeveless black dresses that hang a little too loose and uneaten portions of lasagna. Because Marley is all broken messes of cheap glass and fake flowers on the floor of her kitchen.
He wants to fix her. But she won't let him.
"I think you should go." Marley nearly whispers. "My brother will be back soon."
"Do you want me to go?" Harry asks. "Because I will if you do."
Yes. Say yes! Say yes, Marley. Say yes!
Marley closes her eyes to try and think. She knows that if he stays, he will only get closer to her. But she also knows she doesn't want to be alone.
"No." Marley says. "I don't want you to go." She focusses on the thread hanging off the collar of his shirt.
Harry watches her carefully. This close, he can see every eyelash that fan around her crystal blue eyes. He can see every tiny freckle that dot along her nose and cheeks.
And then she does something that surprises both of them.
Marley wraps her arms around his torso. Rests her forehead on his shoulder. And hugs him.
Harry stands shocked for a moment before holding her back. Her mood swings give him whiplash but all he can think is how frail and breakable she feels in his arms. And how he wants to kiss her. Boy, does he want to kiss her.
Because Harry is tired of sleeping alone. And he wants to fix her. Boy, does he want to fix her.
________________________
When Marley wakes up, she's curled up in the center of her matress. And the bedsheets are wrapped around her legs like the thoughts around her head.
It's two in the afternoon and Marley is supposed to be at school.
But so is the boy sitting against the wall next to her makeshift bed. Reading a book from her dusty shelf.
Marley doesn't know what to think. She remembers huging him. Starting to cry for no real reason at all. And for every reason really because she is all cold fingers and half-crazed minds and sleeveless black dresses that hang a little too loose and broken messes of cheap glass and fake flowers on the floor of her kitchen. And she might be a little too broken for fixing.
So It's two in the afternoon and Marley is supposed to be at school but instead she's tangled in bedsheets and unsure feelings and thoughts of boys whose troubled green eyes remind her of summer grass and warm breezes.
And she doesn't know what to think so she doesn't move. Because maybe then he won't realize she's awake. And nearly staring at him as he reads her copy of Lord of the Flies.
Harry flips to the next page. Runs a hand through his hair. Concentrates on the words in front of him with a slight frown between his eyebrows.
"Did Piggy die yet?" Marley speaks softly so she won't startle him. "Is that why you look like you've been personally victimized by that book?"
"No, but thanks for ruining the ending for me." Harry smiles. Doesn't really mean it. He has read it before.
"I thought it was common knowledge that Piggy dies. That's like watching The Titanic and not knowing that the ship is about to sink. Everyone knows that the minute they hit the iceberg, it's game over."
He just smiles and sticks the random bookmark he found in the pages before shutting the book. "Did you sleep well?"
"As well as I ever sleep, I guess. I'm pretty sure I'm turning into an insomniac."
Marley doesn't know why she's suddenly so forthcoming. Maybe it's the tiredness she can still feel under her eyes or the way his hair is messed up in a perfect sort of way or just the fact that she woke up and realized she wasn't alone. And sometimes that's a nice feeling.
"Why did you stay?" She asks. "After I feel asleep?"
"I didn't know if you wanted me to or not." He shrugs.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Haha, awkward. Maria smiles. Stretches with a yawn from their nap.
Marley cuddles deeper into her sheets. Tucks her cold fingers in her sleeves. Bites back the question she wants to ask. But can't really help herself.
"Why were you talking to Acacia this morning?" Marley focuses on a loose strand on her pollow case. Pulls at it lightly, wrapping it around her finger before unwinding it again.
Harry is confused for a moment before remembering the slightly awkward conversation with the overly flirtatious girl. "She wanted a favor. I'm not really sure what it was, though."
"Oh." Marley says. Doesn't look at him. "Do you think she's pretty?" And curses at herself for being so obvious and naive.
"I don't know." He says.
"I think she likes you. Would you date her?"
Oh my lord, you are so pathetic.
Harry watches as Marley tugs on the loose string until it breaks off. "No."
"Why not?"
And Harry wonders how she doesn't see it. That no girls' eyes could compare to Marley's luminous shade of crystal blue. None of them could compare to icicles and frost-bitten noses. But no words could porperly explain that to her so he finds himself leaning forward.
"Marley..."
Their lips are close. Yet so far away because Marley is overthinking and her mind is screaming but she really wants to kiss him. For real this time.
"Harry..." She leans in, too.
So their lips touch. Cold fingers tangle into brown curls. Careful hands cup freckled cheeks.
And He kisses her.
And she kisses him.
So they kiss.
_____________________
PLEASE VOTE ILYSM
-Lena xx