TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of suicidal ideation and abuse.
Chapter 32
_________
He didn't talk to me the whole way back to our hotel room. For the rest of the night as well. It was clear that he wanted to be left alone. It was in his stance and in the way he wouldn't look at me.
I let him be since he was much calmer and less shaky than before. By the time I had gotten out of the shower, he was fast asleep and stripped out of the clothes I styled him in.
It was difficult for me to sleep. I tossed and turned all night over the thoughts that raced through my head. It wasn't until four, maybe five, in the morning until my body finally gave in and slept.
Three hours of sleep later, I wake up to an empty bed and a cold room. When I lift the duvet covers off of me, I shiver.
Where is he?
He's not in the room, not out on the balcony, or in the bathroom. After sticking to my morning routine, I step into the room again with the final realization that he's not here at all.
Panic engulfs me. I could feel my heart sink to my chest and my back becomes awash with feverish prickles at a sudden thought. He didn't leave me here alone in Las Vegas, did he? He's ditched me before.
I search for my phone, the one I had turned off and tucked away. I assume the battery is drained so I search for my charger as well.
He wouldn't abandon me in a different state.
I pause from rummaging through the bag of clothes when another untrusting thought comes to my mind. I stop what I'm doing. Barefoot, I pace across the floor towards the closet near the bathroom. Pushing the sliding door open, I drop onto my knees in front of the safe that holds my check.
6-6-6-9
I didn't pick the code. Harry did. Which is why the untrusting thought is in the back of my mind in the first place.
After unlocking the safe, an instant sigh of relief escapes me. Harry didn't take my check with him to hell knows where. Although the check is in my name, I assumed he had ways to cash it. I wrongfully assumed he had stripped me of nothing and took off, but it was my paranoia. I've learned not to trust anyone, but now I feel guilty.
He could be out getting coffee for all I know.
I close the safe and I make sure it's locked and secured before standing back up.
I sit by the desk near the hotel room and plug my charger into the nearest outlet after finding it. Once I plug in my phone, I wait for it to turn on. Sitting back in the rolling desk chair, my anxious heartbeat hasn't stopped thumping. My fingers fiddle along the glass tabletop, bouncing my leg at the same time because it's taking forever.
"C'mon," I mumble under my breath.
It turns on. The screen turns completely white then notification after notification pops up behind my cracked phone screen.
I ignore them all as my finger is quick to tap away and call Harry's unsaved number. On speaker, I wait for an answer, but my leg won't keep from bouncing. It rings and rings and then he answers.
"Yeah."
I pause because I wasn't prepared with what to say. I didn't think he would answer in the first place. I want to ask where he is, but I also don't want to sound needy. "Hey," I begin, sounding softer than I intended to sound. After pressing my lips together, I decide to just go on with it. "Where are you?"
Listening closely to the background noise coming through the line, I hear slot machines and chatter all around. I then hear him sigh. "I'm out. I won't be coming up to the hotel room until later. Order room service, if you'd like or something."
I note his tone—there's disinclination traced behind his words. He wants to be left alone and maybe it's because he's embarrassed. Last night comes back to me. From touching me in public to attacking somebody in my defense and finally to his panic attack in the alleyway, I remember it too vividly. He doesn't want to see me. "Oh," I slip. "Okay... Are you alright? If you don't mind me asking." I lean back in the chair again and I fiddle my nervous fingers together.
"Yeah," is all he answers. "I'm gonna go now."
"Wait," I stop him, and I sit back up. With my elbows sliding onto the glass tabletop, I then say, "Be safe."
The line goes dead after he's decided to hang up on me. I can tell he isn't alright for reasons I wish I could know. The confrontation with the man who could've harmed me last night might've pushed him over the edge. Why was he already on edge? It's what I've been wondering.
I stand up from the desk chair and leave my phone left to charge. I can't see myself sitting in the hotel room all day to wait for him. Enjoying my time alone yesterday, I figure I could do that again. This time I might enjoy a swim in the pool.
I leave the hotel room after an hour of getting ready. With hair pulled back into a low bun, I make my way to the poolside in a pair of distressed jeans, and a white cropped tank over a yellow bikini top that I had picked up during my expensive shopping spree. I also carry my tote bag of essentials with an iced coffee in hand.
The heat is tougher than the day before. I feel it against my sunblock-protected skin. The sun is brighter as well, but my eyes remain shield behind my chunky black sunglasses.
I claim an empty daybed with an umbrella and side table attached. I set my tote down on the daybed then my drink to the side. As the Nevada air comes through in a warm breeze, I unbutton the top of my jeans to wiggle them off. I then sit down in my matching swimwear bottoms after nicely folding my jeans away. Though, before I could lay back and enjoy some peace and quiet, I fish for the phone in my tote bag.
Missed calls and texts. Many of them that I haven't gone over since my phone had turned on.
Zac.
Rosie.
Mom and Dad.
I frown to myself as I feel an anxiety swirl at the bottom of my stomach. Before I can return any missed calls, I go through my unread text messages first.
Zac
Yesterday 9:02 AM
Jo, I've been trying to reach you.
You've missed work. Call back when
you can.
Rosie
Yesterday 3:04 PM
It's me, Matt.
Can we meet up again?
Hello?
Yesterday 5:37 PM
Call me on my cell?
Today 6:20 AM
I understand if you still don't
want to see me, but please text
my cell. Just want to make sure
you're alright.
I pause, suddenly wishing I had Harry near to ask him what I should do. I look around as if I would find him in the vast open space of strangers. I sigh and then take a sip from my iced coffee.
Nervously, I decide to call Zac first. I wouldn't him to worry and missing my shift at work without calling in had been reasonably irresponsible of me. I bring the phone up to my ear and nervously wait for an answer.
"Jo?"
I inhale before I cringe at the lie I'm about to tell him. "Hey, boss!" I greet first. "I am so sorry I missed my shift the other day and for not calling in about it. I just had... personal problems going on."
He's silent. He then heaves a grumpy sigh. "Are you good?"
"Yeah, yeah! All is well."
"Will you be coming in tonight?"
I bring a hand over my forehead and I try not to stress about the mess I am in. "About that-" I begin and let my hand drop down onto my lap. "I don't think I would be able to... make it in today."
"Jo," he says. "I don't think this is going to work out."
He's firing me.
If it was any other day, like before I had won three hundred thousand dollars, I would have begged Zac to give me another chance. It's weird to think I can afford to go without it now. I then say, "I understand... I haven't been the best employee, have I?"
He must be surprised that I'm taking his decision to let me go so easily. I hear a light chuckle. "Take care, Jo."
"You, too," I say goodbye before setting my phone back down. I sigh and lock my phone. I don't think I can talk to Matt right now. I might have to unblock his number from the time I didn't know the entirety of the story. Though, I don't bother to do anything but sip on my iced coffee and comfortably lay back against the daybed.
I wish I had a book or magazine to read.
My phone begins to vibrate near my legs and I'm swift to grab it. I take my sunglasses off and huff when I discover it isn't who I had hoped for it to be. It's my dad calling again to my surprise. It could be urgent, I then start to think. It isn't like him to call me once, let alone twice. This applies to my mom as well. I rest my head back against the headrest as I then bring the phone up to my ear to answer.
"Hello?"
"Joelle, why do you have a phone if you don't use it?"
"Sorry, I've been-" I stopped. He doesn't care. "Is there something wrong?"
"Listen, your mother and I have been trying to reach you. We finally talked about your money situation. We agreed to write you a check, but on one condition."
I hold onto my phone tightly. Listening to him, I chew on the inside of my cheek. I almost laugh. "What condition?" I ask, only because I'm curious about what my parents are trying to get me to do.
"It sounds like you're struggling a lot... We want you to come back to Seattle, so you have us to support you."
"Now you want to support me?" I ask, finding it hard to believe that piece of information. It was always their way or no way at all. I let myself laugh the one I had stifled. "Where was your support when I went off for college? I've been struggling for the past four years, you know! Dad... if I didn't have your support then, I don't need it now. Mom's, too."
"Jo-"
"I'm serious. I don't need your money, either. I'm rich now! Did you know that? I don't know it's as if the universe paid me back, compensated me, for the struggle you and Mom brought on me when the two of you decided to cut me off!" I sit up when the buried resentment had spilled from my mouth.
"Excuse me? Do not take that tone-"
"But it's true and the two of you know it! You cut me off and now I don't need you guys anymore."
Shit.
When I look to my right, I recognize the man in a white t-shirt, blue swim trunks, and black sunglasses claim the daybed next to me. Finny looks at me, but awkwardly waves. Did he catch me yelling?
My dad is in the middle of scolding me, sounding just like my mom, but he's much gentler in his approach. I cut him off again, "I don't need your help, but thank you. I have to go now and I'm sure you do, too." I hang up after hearing my dad say my name again. Embarrassed, I tuck my phone into my tote bag.
"Funny seeing you again," I hear Finny say.
I scrunch my nose then look at him. With a soft laugh, I then apologize, "Sorry. I was, um, on the phone-"
"You don't have to explain," he tells me, possibly after reading the sudden timidness I gave off.
When I smile, he returns it. I have to look away when Finny then pulls the white t-shirt from off his body. I press my lips together after I had caught a glimpse. The man is fit, it wasn't hard to deny. Then, I could feel my cheeks flush with red at the sudden memory that comes to mind.
"Would've let him fuck me, too."
What I had told Harry in the middle of fuck was meant to taunt and entice him. I didn't think I would see the attractive stranger that I had referred to again. I'm embarrassed now more than ever.
"Plan on going on a swim?" He begins to converse while shaking a bottle of spray-on sunblock.
My eyes remain low and I smile. "Maybe a quick one. I don't know yet."
"Yeah, me too," he responds and starts to spray his body down. "Say, do you know how long I'm supposed to wait for the sunblock to settle in?"
"Thirty minutes," I inform him as I let myself glance over at him again. He glistens, practically glows, with the sun on his back as he rubs the sunblock all in.
"I should take that seriously," he says with a laugh. "One time I forgot to put on sunblock and the sunburn was the worst pain I've ever felt."
"Really?" I laugh.
"Okay, not the worst pain... but it sucked a lot." He finishes protecting his skin. He then kindly offers, "Did you want some sunblock?"
"Oh, no thanks... I've already put some on." I smile as he takes a seat on his daybed.
"Smart... Should've done it earlier, huh?" He chuckles. As he lays back, he continued to keep a conversation going with me. "So how you're liking Vegas so far? Visited the strip? As in Las Vegas Boulevard."
I laugh and lick my lips from what he asked and teased me about. "I did actually," I say. I also visited a strip club. "It was really beautiful at night."
"Right?" He grins as he sunbathes with his black sunglasses on. I'm trying so hard not to let my curious eyes wander. I reach for my iced coffee to continue drinking. He then asks, "No piña colada this time?"
"Mm, not today. Day drinking was fun, but I told myself I would take it easy today." I lean back into the position I had been in before my phone call. Usually, in a situation like this, I wouldn't have wanted to partake in a conversation with a stranger, but Finny's different. He doesn't creep me out and he's kind.
"Understandable," he responds with a chuckle.
"I saw you yesterday," I then say when I remember spotting him at a poker table. "Later in the day... on the casino floor."
"You did?" He lifts his head, looking at me through his dark shades. "Yeah, I played poker for a bit. How come you didn't say hi?"
"I wanted to," I admit and smile lightly. "but then you disappeared."
He clicks his tongue. "Had to fold... I was losing! Maybe I should've tried the slots. Hey, did you know somebody hit the jackpot yesterday? Here at Caesar's."
I raise an eyebrow as if I didn't have a clue as to what he had been talking about. The first thing Harry had asked of me was to remain completely anonymous. Meaning I had to avoid telling people about my winnings. I also had to avoid news outlet interviews and getting my picture taken. It was like putting a target on my back, he explained. So, I couldn't tell Finny it was me who had the big win. "Serious? No, I didn't know that," I lie.
"Yeah! Four hundred—almost half a million dollars, I think." Shocked, as I am, he stresses out a whistle. "I wouldn't even know what to do with that much money."
Three hundred and tell me about it. I sip at my iced coffee that no longer tastes as good as it was fresh. Because of the warmth out, my coffee has watered down almost completely from melted ice. I set it aside after drinking most of it down anyway. After buying me a little bit more time, I then say. "That is a lot of money. I wouldn't know what to do with it either."
"I guess the smart thing to do would be save and invest. Oh, and give back, of course." He grins, lifting an arm to tuck it behind his head.
I giggle. "Of course," I say. "If you don't mind me asking, where are you visiting from?" I drive the conversation away from money to learn more about the man. I shift onto my side to give him my attention.
"I wish I had a specific answer. I guess you can say I visit from all over." He smiles with a quick nod. He sits up and finally takes his sunglasses off. I'm met with eyes as blue as the pool in front of us.
"You travel?"
"I've seen it all, Jo." He's standing up tall and my eyes follow him because suddenly I'm intrigued to know all about his travels. I've always wanted to travel, but on my own and without my parents. "Wait, so are you like on the go all the time?"
"All the time," he bluntly confirms.
"Where do you put all your stuff?" I ask.
"My stuff comes with me," he says with a laugh. "I'm going to go for a quick swim. I know it hasn't been thirty minutes, but oh well. Coming?"
As kind as he is and as much as I want to keep talking to him, I don't feel comfortable joining him for a swim. It's the introverted part of me that says, "I think I'm going to stay put." And continue to wonder if Harry is alright.
Finny only nods, tossing his folded sunglasses onto the daybed he occupied. He then walks toward the pool, and I watch him avoid the stairs. He jumps into the deep end instead, letting the cold water engulf him a few feet under. After a quick second, he plops his head out and he shakes the water from out his hair.
I slide back, bringing my sunglasses back onto my face when I've convinced myself to close my eyes for a bit. I hardly slept and because of it, my eyelids feel heavy. The umbrella doesn't cover me up with shade completely. I extend my legs to let the sun work in a tan.
I have to fight sleep the moment I begin to feel like I'm drifting. Resting by the poolside wasn't the kind of serenity I had been searching for. My mind continues to run on the course towards insanity.
He wants to be alone.
I want to respect him by giving him the space he desired, but there's a feeling in my gut. Maybe it's my empty stomach or maybe it's worrisome, but I don't like how it feels.
"Leaving so soon?" Finny has come back. With a white towel around his shoulders, he stops by his daybed. Water droplets fall from his wet and noticeably low swim trunks onto the cement. Even more races down his chest, but he begins to wipe himself down.
I've slipped my jeans back on. When I stand, I button and zip them up. "Yeah," I then say. "I thought I wanted a swim, but I changed my mind."
"That's too bad. The water felt great." He smiles at me.
After sliding my sandals back on, I gather my tote bag then the empty plastic cup to discard. I finally return his smile.
"Listen," he interrupts. "I know that you mentioned yesterday that you came here with somebody... Is that still true?" He flashes me a grin as if he was so sure I had been lying over my sip of piña colada.
Pressing my lips together, I'm quick to break into a flatter-filled smile. "It is true. I was actually heading out to meet him."
He heaves a playful sigh. "So, you'd say no if I'd invite you to grab a bite with me."
I bite my lip at the mere thought of an attractive man asking me out. I think he's asking me out. "I'm afraid I have to go now," I turn him down and that's when his shoulders dramatically slump.
"Very well. It was nice seeing you again, stranger," he says to me.
"You, too, Finny." I give him one last smile before walking past him to head back towards the hotel entrance.
I toss my empty cup into a trash bin as the cool AC relieves my warm body when stepping in. It feels nice, cooling me enough to no longer sweat across my forehead. I've taken off my sunglasses, tucking an arm into the neckline of my top, as my feet take me into the place Harry and I were yesterday.
I enter the casino floor in search of him. I picked up that this is where he'd be when he answered my call. The familiar chimes of the slot machines and the chatters coming from a crowded floor were hard to not recognize. Though as I'm walking, scanning my surroundings to find the man that slipped out of our hotel room this morning, I don't see him. He's not playing poker or any other gambling game.
I conclude that he isn't here at all. He could be at one of the many casinos here in Las Vegas and not just at Caesar's Palace. I just hoped he would've been here.
I give up when I decide against calling him. I wouldn't want him to find me so needy after telling me he'd come back later. I bring a hand over my stomach when it growls. I start heading towards the exit to find a place to eat.
While I ate, I started to regret turning Finny down for a platonic lunch outing. I would have loved to learn more about his traveling journey rather than overhear the women at the table next to me go on and overshare their hookups.
After lunch, I stumbled upon the strip mall underneath the painted blue sky. I endured a lengthy amount of time on retail therapy. I bought more clothes, but as I carried all the shopping bags back to the hotel room several hours later, I realized I had more clothes than I needed.
I've made the plan to sort my clothes, consider the ones I want to keep, and the ones I could donate the moment I get to the hotel room.
My phone buzzes in my tote bag. I groan since my hands are full. Wanting to eagerly see who is calling, I set my shopping bags down, all ten of them, so I can search for my phone.
What if it's Harry?
When I dig my phone out, I feel disappointed to know it's only Matt calling me from Rosie's phone again. I start to grow anxious. I want to be there for him, especially after everything. I know he's probably worried about why I haven't spoken to him, but selfishly, I don't want to answer.
My thumb hovers over the screen. Instead of declining the call, I end up accepting. I pause, mentally cursing myself and Harry for not being here to stop me. Eventually, I bring the phone up to my ear. "Hello?" I chew the inside of my lip and wrap my free arm around my body to hug myself.
"Jo," he says with what sounds like a relieved breath. "I- Are you okay? You weren't answering and I was getting a bit worried."
The developing thought, the slight wonder, hits me as I begin to internally panic. Does he know about August? No, it's still too soon.
"I'm okay," I lie to him. "Sorry, I was just- I've been so busy."
"Where are you? It sounds loud."
I look around and it's the echoing sound of strangers talking at the same time that he might be picking up. "I'm on a work trip," I tell him. "Internship related."
"Oh... where?"
I shift in my stance, adding more weight onto my other leg. "Vegas," I say. "There's this fashion thing... Which is why I've been so busy. How are you? Are you okay?"
I'm relieved the moment he doesn't ask any more questions—which is surprising for him. I hear him sigh before saying, "I'm getting by. I've just been thinking a lot... but you're probably busy so-" he pauses and I scrunch my nose for what I'm about to say.
"I am busy," I selfishly say. "I'm sorry... What if we talk later?"
"Sure," he says with disappointment in his response. "On my phone maybe?"
"Right," I let out a soft chuckle. "I'll unblock you. I'm sure Rosie's getting annoyed with you using her phone."
"She is!" He laughs. "Alright, cool, I'll let you work now. Bye, Jo."
"Bye," I whisper then hang up.
That wasn't too bad.
I drop my phone into my tote again and fix the strap over my shoulder. I then bend down to gather all my shopping bags. Once I've lifted them, I continue my journey towards the elevators.
Work trip.
I huff from my excuse that he seemed to buy.
"There you are!"
I turn my head when I identify a familiar voice speaking to me. I raise an eyebrow when I see the man approach me with an open arm.
"Play along," Finny mumbles, pulling me into his side after clinging his arm around my shoulder.
Confused and a little frightened, I struggle with talking. He clears my left hand, taking the shopping bags to hold them for me. "I-"
"You're being followed," he whispers. Then, in a louder tone, he says, "I've been looking for you everywhere, honey! I see you did some shopping."
I'm being followed?
"Finn-" I pause when I look up at him. My heart begins to overwork behind the walls of my chest. Is he fucking with me? "What is going on?"
He looks behind him, carefully scanning all around. We get to the elevators and that's when his arm falls from my shoulder. "Wait," he whispers, leaving me with pure impatience to fill me in on what he knows as the stranger pushes the elevator button.
I look around, frowning because we're alone. "Finny," I say again and look at him. He has changed from the swim trucks I had seen him in earlier. He's now in brown slacks with a white t-shirt tucked into them. "What do you mean I'm being-"
"A man," he begins to inform me in a low whisper. "I saw him looking at you at the pool-"
He stops talking, making my anxious heartbeat race even more. When the elevator doors open up, a family steps out of it. They greet us and as Finny greets them back, I give them a fake smile in return.
Continuing where he left off, he says, "it's why I came out of the water when I did." He steps into the elevator and I follow him into it. "Floor?" He then asks me, referring to which button to push for me.
"Eleven," I say under my breath. "A man from the pool was following me?"
"Yeah, looked a bit rough... When you left the pool this morning, I didn't see him follow you out. Thought it was okay... Until I spotted him just now a few feet behind you."
"What?" I ask in disbelief. "I mean, I was out on my own all day-" I stop talking. I realized I've probably got caught in my little white lie. I told Finny I would be meeting with the person I came with—Harry.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Jo. I knew he'd back up if he saw me with you. I was playing a bit of poker again and I was just heading up to my room when I recognized him and you."
"What did he look like?" I ask, frowning at the disturbing thought of somebody following me again.
"Tall, slim, but with a beard. Just be careful. It's not safe to walk around on your own."
I swallow, leaning back against the elevator wall as it moved. I stay quiet, unsure what to make of what Finny tells me.
"Did you win the jackpot or something?" Finny then speaks up in the middle of my silence. I look over only to see him look at my shopping bags.
"What?" I quickly deny with a head shake. A peal of nervous laughter also slips from my mouth. "No, I didn't."
"I'm teasing... But seriously, be careful. Not that you need a man to protect you or something... I'm sure you can protect yourself, but I couldn't do nothing about it."
"Thank you," I tell him with a nod since I hadn't yet.
I don't know how to protect myself; I remind myself. Finny doesn't have to know that. At least he's reminded me that I should pick up a thing or two about defending myself. He was there, by luck, and I feel safer because of it.
The doors open to the eleventh floor. I lean off the wall and thank Finny again as he hands me the shopping bags he held.
"I'm on the thirteenth floor. Again, be safe," Finny wishes, crossing his arms as he stays behind in the elevator shaft.
I nod again while stepping out. "Again, thank you." I have to be more conscious and oblivious to my surroundings. I wave goodbye through wiggling fingers as the doors shut. Once he's gone, I start walking down the hall to the hotel room. This time, as I walk, I find myself looking over my shoulder constantly. I was met with an empty hallway each time.
After a quick struggle, I unlock the door with the censored keycard. I step inside, pushing the heavy door to squeeze by with my excessive shopping bags. I then drop all my bags to make sure the door closes behind me. Paranoid of still being followed, I reach for the dangling chain of the deadbolt and slide it lock for extra security.
I might never leave this room again.
I turn on my heels, leaving my bags abandoned when I pick up the distinct smell of smoke in the room. I frown at the mess I see when I take a few steps forward. When I approach the coffee table in the lounge area, I spot several cigarette butts scattered around. Drugs. Unfinished white lines rest above the surface next to an empty and tipped-over bottle of liquor.
"Harry?" I call for him. When my eyes lift off the troubled scene, I notice the balcony door is wide open. Through the sheer curtains that dance from the breeze, I spot him. Quick in my steps, I head towards the balcony. "Harry," I say his name again. I suck in a breath when I watch him bent over the railing, many stories high, as if he would fly if he bent any further.
"Shit," he mutters when he sees me. With a groan, he straightens his back but keeps his hands on the railing.
"What are you doing?" I step towards him, but I'm cautious. I wouldn't want to make one bad move when he's intoxicated and possibly high. When he looks at me, his hair is in a heap of a mess with strands matted against his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and as red as his eyes.
"What do you think I'm doing?" He talks, a bit faster than usual. He breaks from my eyes to look down below. "I'm just... imagining." He leans forwards again, but this time not as dangerously close as before. He's looking down at the view of the large pool down below.
"Imagining—what?" I reach for the rail and I gradually scoot closer to get to him. I don't think I'll like what he's going to say with his unfiltered mouth.
"Oh, you know... falling," he answers with a sniffle. "Like... don't you ever just- just imagine what it would be like to die? Right now, or up until you got here, that's all I've been doing. Imagining what would happen if I just plummeted to my death."
There's a serious shift. The way he's looking down as if he's contemplating it all. "Harry, that isn't funny," I tell him as if he was making one sick joke. The more I look at him, however, the more I think he isn't joking. "Why don't we-"
"Relax," he mutters. "Not actually going to do it... I still have shit to do." He steps away from the railing and gets by me to enter our room again. He's quick in his steps to the couch, sniffling on the way there.
I follow him, but I shut the sliding door when I step inside again. "What do you mean by that?" I ask, a bit relieved he isn't suicidal, I think, but I'm still concerned. Very concerned. I watch him sit on the couch, reaching forward for the drugs on the table again.
"There's a lot you don't know," he slurs while using his copy of our hotel room censored card to straighten his fine white lines.
I knew he sold it, but I didn't think he did it. Especially because of how he puts Niall down for it all the time. Clearly, there's a lot I don't know—about him and maybe everything else. I approach him cautiously again. I sit down next to him on the couch, trying to figure out how I could get him not to sniff up more cocaine. "Harry-"
He leans his body forward and before I know it, he's snorted it with a rolled-up bill. Immediately, he tilts his head back. He must feel the overload spike of dopamine course through him and I don't like the sight of it. I watch him lean back against the couch when he finished. His hands are trembling again, I notice, and all I want to do is hold them.
"Can you tell me what's wrong?" I urge myself to ask.
His eyes are wide open. His green irises remain shrunk into thin rings, almost. He sits up, not being able to keep still for too long. Harry then turns to me. "Everything," he begins. Then he stands up, jittery and high out of his mind.
"Harry, wait-" I reach for his hand when I feared he might leave. "Wait," I say again as I stand up and hold on.
Though, he jerks his trembling hand back from mine. "Stop it," he mutters. "Stop doing that."
"Doing what?" I respond, taken back from how he didn't want me to touch him.
"Trying to comfort me! I don't need your fucking comfort," he snaps and I try to hold my strength. He then scoffs, pushing his wild curls back as he starts heading towards the hallway for the door.
"Harry, I'm just worried-"
"Worried?" He stops in his tracks to turn and look at me again. He laughs and shakes his head rapidly. "You have no reason to be worried, angel. I'm fine."
"Oh, c'mon... You're not fine," I call him out. With crossed arms to avoid touching him again, I step towards him. "Your hands... they've been shaking uncontrollably since yesterday. Now you're doing coke and drinking, too? You can talk to me, Harry. You don't have to bottle it all up this way."
He's frowning at me and I can tell he's figuring out ways to deflect. "I don't know what to tell you, D'Amore!" He shouts. Full of frustration, he lets out a laugh. "I mean, why do you have to know shit? Just leave me alone! I can handle this on my own."
"I'm sure you can," I say softly and swallow. "But that's the thing... you don't have to handle this on your own."
"Maybe for you women," he offends. "but I'm a man."
I let my arms fall from the kind of mindset I didn't expect from him. "Who told you that? That men aren't allowed to be comforted or open up, to say the least?"
He tightens his jaw.
"I have a feeling you don't believe that... You're just struggling to talk to me."
Falling quiet, he's breathing rapidly and I have a feeling he won't tell me anything at all.
"My mom... she would tell me I'd make a useless woman if I didn't pursue a career in medicine," I then tell him, sharing a hurt I've held on since it was said to me. Maybe if I open up, he would, too. "People demean my choices of wanting to pursue a career in fashion all the time and sometimes it hurts."
He's demeaned my own choice before, too.
His wild eyes leave my stare to look at the ground. "And?" He mumbles, shifting in his place.
"And, I believed it for a while. Felt like I didn't belong until I finally said, 'fuck that.' Did someone tell you you couldn't show your emotions because you're a man?" Even though Harry looks away, I don't look anywhere else but at him. I've tried to decipher him—read and study him any chance I got—and for the longest, it was hard to figure out why he is the way he is. Turns out, he might be no different than me.
He brings shaky hands up to his matted curls, pushing them all back. He's unwell, especially with all the toxins he must've put in his body. He groans then finally moves away from the hall to step further into the room again. Though, he turns to the table with an empty cigarette carton, an empty bottle of liquor, and coke. Instead of sitting down to ruin himself more, he lifts his foot and angrily kicks the table out of the way. The bottle, so close to the edge, falls onto the carpeted floor. It doesn't break, but Harry does.
I'm frozen as I've been met with a territory I've never crossed or expected to cross before. Harry has let himself drop into a sit on the hotel room floor. Knees up to his chest, he buries his face into his arms that hug himself. He's muttering under his breath, cursing at the world, probably, as he's panting uncontrollably.
I've fallen onto my knees next to him. I know he doesn't want to be touched, but my hand absentmindedly runs up his arm. I don't say anything when he doesn't push or pull. All I do is rub at his slightly damped from sweat back. I think he's crying or trying so hard not to.
I wait, patiently, until he feels the need to talk to me. This time, I think he just might.
Minutes later, it's when he finally lifts his head after using the sleeve of his black t-shirt to discreetly wipe his face clean. "Yesterday, you asked me why I wore eyeliner."
I remember. My fingers start to make slight scratches against his back as I listen to him.
"I was-" he pauses, taking a needed break to swallow. I look around to search for water when I figure he might be thirsty. I remember there being bottled water in the mini-fridge near the television. I'm about to stand, but Harry grabs my hand to keep me from going anywhere. I stay in place when I finally get a bit of something in return. "They would force me to put makeup on... whenever I acted like a little bitch."
I feel my shoulders slump. I imagine Harry refers to his parents, parental figures, or guardians when he says they. "Oh," I whisper, feeling for him with a heavy heart in my chest.
"S'why I got defensive when you asked. It's just something-" He stops taking again when our eyes meet.
"Just something you took back?"
He nods. "Yeah," he says and he hasn't stopped shaking. Not just his hands, but his entire body.
I look down at our hands when he squeezes mine, but not hard from the tremble he couldn't control. "Well, fuck that," I whisper. "The notion that a little emotion or makeup makes you less of a man."
"Wait," he then turns to me, but his hand remains in mine. "D'Amore, if you tell anyone-"
"I won't," I interrupt. "I wouldn't do that."
He huffs under his breath and his hand ends up slipping from mine when he takes the neckline of his shirt and lifts it to wipe his face.
I wouldn't want to push to know more, not when it probably took a lot for him to tell me that. I knew there was a reason behind his choices, but I didn't expect it to be because of possible childhood trauma and terrible parenting. Finally, I stand up to get him that bottled water.
I tend his side again with an opened bottle of water. "Here," I offer, wanting him to drink it. "Are you hungry?" I then ask when something tells me Harry doesn't take care of himself as well as he should be.
He shakes his head, but he takes the water to drink. I figured he would say no from the effects of cocaine that suppress his appetite. As I watch him drink, I look at the drugs on the table. He must notice, because he then says, "Flush it... please?"
—
hi! i just wanted to say thank you again. pierced is growing and i'm still surprised but so so thankful. i love you!
—CAST LIST UPDATE—
SEBASTIAN STAN
as
FINNY