tw: emetophobia, talks of suicide
August 18th, 2022
"Cassie?"
It's been five minutes of Cassie just staring at the piece of paper in her hands. She's gone pale and her hands are shaking so bad the paper is making a sound. Nothing I'm saying is snapping her out of it.
I'm suspicious of this entire thing. Why would a piece of paper addressed to "K" give her a reaction like this? It has to be bad. So bad that me snapping my fingers in front of her face and yelling her name doesn't even get a slight reaction from her.
"Cassie you're really freaking me out right now. What is going on? Please, just talk to me."
Nothing.
"Cassie! Talk to me!"
Nada.
"Cassie what the fuck?" I go to snatch the note out of her hands but she moves faster than me, standing up from her seat on the couch to pace in front of me, running her hands through her hair without taking her eyes off the paper.
"Cassie I need you to talk to me. Please. Tell me what is happening."
Zilch.
"I swear to god I'll call Zayn and Gianna over here right now. If I can't get you to talk I know they will."
This makes her stop pacing and look up at me in panic. "No."
"Then tell me what's going on!"
"This has to stay between us, do you understand? No one, I mean not a single person can know about this, okay?" Her voice shakes in rhythm with the paper in her hands.
"What if they can help! Zayn is really good at finding information, he knows people who can probably find out who sent whatever it is that's making you spiral!" I'm also panicking at this point, and for some reason when I'm stressed I turn to yelling.
"Stop yelling at me!"
Okay, valid.
But it's almost compulsive when I still yell, "Then tell me what's going on!"
"Don't worry about it! This is my mess!" She resumes pacing back and forth, whispering "fuck, fuck, fuck" over and over again.
"Of course I'm going to worry about it! What the fuck is so bad on that piece of paper that has you acting like this! Do you think I'm completely fucking heartless? That I'm just going to go 'Oh, okay yeah this is fine I'm just going to go to sleep while you have a panic attack right in front of me, no big deal' come on Cassie!" I let out a heavy breath after my rant and Cassie stops pacing again to glare at me. She marches towards me and points a finger at me.
"Fuck you! Just go home Harry!"
"No! I'm not leaving!" I lean down slightly as I yell back at her.
"This is my fucking apartment, you can't tell me no! God, you're so fucking arrogant making this about you! Once again, you are not the white hot center of the fucking universe! Just leave me alone to deal with this by myself!"
We're in each others faces, screaming, and I take a second to slow my breathing. We're both hot headed and stubborn and this is getting us no where. If she really wants me to leave, I will, but I just want to know how to be there for her. I want to understand.
I straighten up and back away to sit down on the couch. Cassie's red face is slowly returning back to normal and I can see her breathing slowing down. She puts the paper down at her side, still holding it and walks over to sit next to me on the couch.
"I kind of needed that. I'm sorry," she apologies sheepishly, embarrassed over her outburst.
"I'm sorry too. If you really want me to leave, I will. I just want to understand," I look at her with pleading eyes. Please don't shut me out. I know I've done the same to you in the past, but I don't think I can handle it if after I poured my heart out to you if you do the same to me.
"No, please don't leave," she says quickly, reaching across the couch for me. "Will you stay the night? I want to feel safe. Harry, I can't tell you everything but just please understand that this is my mess. I want you to be here for me but I just can't let you in on some things right now."
I blow out a sigh at her response, but I know I can't be hypocritical. There's things that I'm not ready to share with her either, and if I don't want to be pushed on it I shouldn't push her either. It just wouldn't be fair.
Instead, I turn my head towards her to ask, "Does your real name start with a K? Is that what started this?"
*
Her face pales. "I'm going to be sick."
Cassie runs to the bathroom, leaving the paper on the couch next to me, open. I don't even hesitate to run after her, pulling the loose strands of hair out of her face as she empties her stomach into the toilet. I awkwardly rub circles into her back and after a few minutes she reaches up to flush the toilet and then leans back against the cabinets.
*
We sit in silence on the bathroom floor together. I've adjusted myself to sit opposite her against the bathtub with my knees up and my elbows resting on my knees, just trying to give her space.
I think I'm right that her name does start with a K. I'm not going to ask her, not right now at least, but my mind is reeling with all the different possibilities.
Katherine? No, she doesn't look like a Katherine.
Kaitlyn?
Kaylee?
Karen?
Kassandra?
Kassandra sounds right. She still doesn't look like a Kassandra, but if she says Cassie is a nickname then that makes the most sense.
It doesn't matter what her name is. None of this really even matters to me anymore. The rose colored glasses are officially on. I meant every word I said to her when I came here tonight. I want her and I want everything that comes with her. Even if that means there's some crazy stalker out to get her.
Cassie eventually stands up to brush her teeth and splash water on her face. I stay on my spot on the floor, just watching her. Even after she just threw her guts up, she still looks so effortlessly beautiful. Now seeing her without her fake looking contacts (I fucking knew it!) has just added to the stupid heart palpitations I feel around her.
She turns around to face me and the look on her face breaks my heart, I swear I can hear it audibility crack. She just looks defeated. Like the world has beaten her down and she doesn't know where to go from here. I want to go into fix it mode for her, but I know this is something she needs to handle on her own. She doesn't need me swooping in to meddle and try to save the day.
I can be her support and just hope that's enough.
"I'll go get you some blankets for the couch. Are you okay, Harry?"
Am I okay? Is she seriously asking if I'm okay? After what I just witnessed and she's worried about how I'm feeling?
"Don't do that. Let me take care of you," I tell her softly, standing up and walking out of the bathroom. I've been to her place enough times to know where to find most things, although I know there's not a whole lot I can do at the moment. So as I walk out of the bathroom I take her hand in mine, brushing off the ridiculous anxious thoughts I have about it.
I half pull her behind me and when I glance behind me she's giving me a weird look, but there's a smile on her face and I feel good that I achieved something so small for her tonight. I lead her to her bed and she sits down, getting under the covers and watching me thoughtfully as I walk back to the kitchen to get her some water.
When I get back to her she takes the water and gives me a grateful look, taking a few large gulps of the water. I go around to the other side of her queen sized bed and hesitate for a second.
"Is this okay? If I, uh, sleep here?" I scratch the back of my neck and look away from her eyes, feeling a blush creep up on my face. This is so embarrassing.
God, I'm such a stupid fucking idiot why do I have to be so god damn awkward this so fucking dumb why am I so—
"Of course you can," she pats the side of the bed and opens the covers for me to slide in. "But on one condition."
"Oh god," I roll my eyes playfully in response.
"You have to turn the light off. It's the first switch by the dresser."
I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding in relief and walk the three steps to the light, stumbling back to the bed in the darkness. I carefully get under the covers and turn to face Cassie, who's already laying on her side facing me. We stay like that for a few minutes, just looking at each other.
Her hair falls in wisps around her face and I resist the urge to tuck them back behind her ear. I can see dark roots coming through the top of her head, and even through the darkness of the room her hair doesn't look quite as pink as it did when we first met, and I wonder if she's going to keep it pink or dye it something else like blue or purple. I wonder if she'd let me help her, or sit with her while she did it.
With Cassie I constantly have thoughts of doing mundane things with her. I want to take her out on another date, one that doesn't end in disaster but then ends in us feeling fireworks between us, one that feels so electric we can't help but feel this is what we've been waiting for our entire lives. I want to dance with her in my kitchen with nothing but the refrigerator light to guide us. I want to go on walks with her while she points out every blade of grass because she's still a native to the desert so every shade of green continues to amaze her.
I want to go grocery shopping with her. I want to fold laundry with her. I want to come home from a long day at work and just fall into her arms and let her stroke her fingers through my hair and tell me it's all going to be okay.
I want to kiss her. So badly.
My anxiety gets the best of me every time. After all the abuse I endured, I can't stomach the thought of being intimate with someone like that again. It's getting better, but I know the only way I'll really improve is if I step out of my comfort zone and allow someone to get that close to me.
Even now, I can tell that Cassie needs the comfort. I think her love language is physical touch. Of fucking course, I would pursue someone who likes to touch and be touched all the time. I haven't had a stupid crush on someone in so long and that's the kind of person my consciousness decides to fixate on. Go figure.
I appreciate that she respects my boundaries with this. I know it sounds crazy, I feel crazy for it. But I know if I want this to turn into anything more, I also have to give a little.
So I take the arm that I'm laying on and bend it back so my palm is facing up in between us. Cassie's eyes follow my movements and after a beat she slowly moves her hand next to mine, but hesitates. I reach to grab her hand with mine and intertwine our fingers together, holding on to her tightly once her grip is in mine. I bring our hands together and place a small kiss on her fingers and lay our hands back down, keeping them together.
She sighs in content and the sides of her mouth perk up slightly. We continue to lay in silence and after a while, I'm almost sure she's asleep and I can feel myself drifting off when I hear her whisper.
"Kashmir."
My eyes fly open at the one single word she spoke, but her eyes are closed and for a second I wonder if I dreamed her voice. I wait for another minute to see if her eyes open again, but her breathing is heavy and even, indicating that she did actually fall asleep.
Well I was falling asleep, but now I don't think I could sleep if I tried. I'm wide awake.
Kashmir. What kind of a name is that? Isn't that the name of a Led Zeppelin song?
I would have never have guessed that, but maybe that's part of the point. She clearly does not want anyone new coming into her life knowing what her name is. She has so many secrets, so many moving parts to her past that I'm not sure how I would even begin to unravel.
The note. It's still on the couch.
I shouldn't read it. I want to, but I shouldn't. If she wanted me to read it she would have told me I could. I would be violating her trust.
But god do I want to. The urge to get up and look at it is overwhelming. It might explain so much about her that I've been needing to know. Information that could completely change the way I see her, good or bad.
I can't. I won't. Unless she gives me her explicit permission, I won't read a single word on that piece of paper.
Instead, I watch her sleep. I always thought it was creepy in media when someone watches the person they're interested in just sleep. I never understood why that's something you would want to do, something that was seen as romantic.
Until now.
It's the way she looks so serene. So vulnerable. Her hand has stayed in mine but she's moved to sleep halfway on her back with her head turned towards me. Her chest moves up and down evenly and the tiniest of snores are leaving her slightly parted mouth.
I can't wait to tell her that she snores.
More hair has fallen over her features and without thinking I reach out to gently tuck the loose strands back. My hand lingers over her cheek when I pull it back. I wish I could freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this. The way the moonlight is casting perfectly over her face is a picture perfect moment, but even a picture wouldn't be able to capture the feeling I have in my chest.
I don't sleep at all. I stay wide awake until the early hours of the morning and when Cassie finally rips her grip out of mine to turn onto her side, I tap my phone to see it's five am. I decide to get up and go for a jog to stop by my place for a change of clothes.
The note is still laying on the couch and as I walk by it catches my eye. I stop in my spot and stare at it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of reading it while she's asleep.
She'll never know.
When I pick the note up it's face down on the cushion, but I hesitate before turning it over. I take one look at Cassie sleeping peacefully a few feet away from me and shake off the thought, folding it back up and carefully setting it down on her desk.
I throw on the shirt from last night that Cassie had hung over her shower rail to dry and keep the sweats on that she let me borrow. I slip my shoes on and quietly take her keys from the hook by the door, hoping she doesn't wake up but I especially now will not be leaving with the door unlocked. I shouldn't be gone long, but I need to clear my head after last nights events. Also, this shirt smells like mildew.
It's thankfully not raining but the ground is wet and slippery so I start slow as the sun makes its peak over the horizon. Clouds linger above my head and cast shadows in front of me as the sun gets brighter and by the time I get to my apartment, grab my change of clothes, and start to head back to Cassie's the sun is shining bright in the sky at just past six am.
I take my time jogging back to Cassie's place, quietly slipping back in through the door to see her still fast asleep in the same position she was in when I left. The sun is shining through the blinds onto her face so I go around her apartment shutting all the blinds as tightly as I can to make sure nothing can wake her up. She needs her rest.
I told her last night I was going to take care of her and that's exactly what I plan to do today.
Before I execute any of my other plans this morning I need to shower, hoping she doesn't mind if I use her products again since I didn't think to grab any of mine. I strip down and quickly wash off, using her berry scented shampoo and conditioner and some vanilla body wash. I did however remember to bring my toothbrush so when I get out of the shower I quickly brush my teeth, use some of her deodorant (oops), and brush my hair out that's getting way too long.
Cassie is still asleep when I tip toe out of the bathroom and step into the small kitchen. It's just after seven thirty but who knows how long she'll be asleep. I feel like making her breakfast sounds romantic, right? Maybe it's a little weird that I'm currently rummaging around in the kitchen, but it works in the books so there's gotta be some truth to it.
I start with coffee, knowing that's probably the first thing she'll want when she wakes up. How come all she has is fucking coffee? Disgusting. I don't know how anyone can drink that shit. I need to be caffeinated if I'm going to stay awake today. I'm technically not working today but I do have to meet Zayn at closing for inventory.
After a slow process of me trying to remember how work a coffee maker, I'm finally satisfied with the number of scoops of coffee grounds in the basket. The nasty smell of coffee almost immediately fills the air and I choke back a dramatic gag.
While I wait for the coffee to finish I dig through the fridge and pull out a half empty carton of eggs, a bag of spinach, a container of mushrooms, and a bag of cheese. Hope she likes omelettes, but in my defense she doesn't have a lot for me to work with.
I dig through her cabinets until I find a small frying pan, seemingly the only one she owns and a spatula out of the holder on the counter. I get to work on the omelettes, heating up the pan and in the process pouring myself a cup of coffee with enough milk and sugar to take away the bitterness.
I get one omelette done and start on the other. I've done a pretty good job so far of not making too much noise seeing as she's still asleep, but of course when I go to crack the egg on the side of the pan, the pan flips off the stove and onto the floor in front of me, making a loud echoing smack on the floor.
God damn it, fuck, she's waking up.
The bed creaks and the pads of her feet hit the floor with a groan of, "What the hell?"
Instead of responding I pick up the pan I dropped and rinse it off under the sink, making my presence known. The bathroom door opens and closes which means she at least remembered I was here and I'm not some murderer hiding in her kitchen.
By the time she comes out of the bathroom I've already washed the pan and started on the food and I can hear her footsteps get closer.
"What do you think you're doing?" Her morning voice is still very apparent and I clench my teeth before responding.
"What do you think I'm doing?"
"Stealing my food, waking me up— oh is that coffee?" She beelines it for a mug in the cupboard and I watch her out of the corner of my eye with a small smile on my face.
Without looking up from the food I decide now is a good time to tell her, "You snore when you sleep."
She looks at me in shock, holding her mug to her chest. "I do not snore."
"Hm, you do."
"I don't believe you."
"I hid under your desk at one point because I thought there was an earthquake," I deadpan.
"Are you making me food or what?" She changes the subject, rolling her eyes and jumping up on the counter behind me to sit.
"So demanding," I scoop up the fresh food onto a plate and hand it to her. "I hope this is okay."
She gives me a look and takes a bite of her food.
"Of course it is. Thank you for this. Did you even sleep?"
"Yeah, enough," I shrug. She doesn't question me even though she knows I'm lying but instead of letting her respond, I change the subject while turning off the stove and grabbing my own plate of food. "Why do you only own one pan to cook with? Are you a psychopath?"
"Why does owning only one pan make me a psychopath? What do I need more than one pan for?"
"Do you not make multiple things at once? What do you even cook in that?" Like, is she serious?
"Omelettes."
Smartass.
"Wow, who knew you could cook," she says with a mouthful of food. I take a bite of my own food before responding.
"For your information, I'm a very good cook. You'll see."
"Oh, I'll see will I?"
We fall into a comfortable silence, but there's still an elephant in the room we need to address. What happened last night isn't something I can just brush off.
She says she doesn't want me to try to fix this, but I really think I can help. One of the good things about the work I'm involved with is I have a lot connections. Zayn just so happens to be one of them. Cassie doesn't need to provide all of the details, but if she just gave Zayn the note, he might be able to figure where it came from. Maybe not all on his own, but this way we can figure out exactly who could have something on her.
Now is as good of a time as any to bring it up, so I put my plate in the sink along with the pan I used and quickly clean up the rest of the mess off the counters before starting the conversation.
"We need to talk," I start with, which seems like an awful starting point in hindsight, but she knows exactly what I mean by the way she rolls her eyes.
"Nope," she pops the 'p' at the end and throws her plate in sick, hopping off the counter to brush past me into her living room.
"This is obviously serious Cassie! I know you don't want me meddling but Zayn is really good with—"
She spins around on her heel and stops me in tracks directly in front of her. "Absolutely not. No fucking way am I getting Zayn involved in this. I told you, this is my mess, okay?"
"Zayn can find who sent that to you! Wouldn't that ease at least some anxiety?"
"No it wouldn't, Harry. You don't understand. You can't understand. I care too much about you and Zayn to let you go near my shit." She runs her hand through her hair and starts to pace, but stops when she gets in front of the couch.
"Where did it go?" she says in panic, taking a few large steps over the to cushions and immediately looking on the floor.
"It's on your desk," I point in the direction of where the paper sits. "I didn't read it, just didn't want it left on the couch."
I can hear her audibly sigh in relief as she picks up the note and places it into one the drawers. "Thanks. I'm sorry, you're... right. This shitty building doesn't have cameras in the hallways and it's killing me that I don't have the slightest clue as to who sent that."
The couch creaks as she flops down onto it, leaning her head back into the back of the couch with her eyes closed. I move to sit next to her and prop my knee up on the cushion to face her.
"I don't need to know the details. The resources are readily available for me to at least give you some sort of relief until you figure out what you want to do once we find this person. Like I told you last night I just want to help."
"I guess... Zayn can help," she says after a minute in a small voice. "All I want is a name and that's it. Nothing more."
"All we'll do is a get a name. No more meddling. Neither one of us will even read it," I try to assure her. What I don't expect is for her to lift her head up with tears in her eyes.
"I think someone is fucking with me Harry. I don't- I don't know. The day I came to Voodoo to...talk, it felt like someone was following me home. I thought maybe I was just tired but I've felt that way a few times since. I've tried to brush it off but now I don't feel so sure."
"You felt like someone was following you? Why didn't you say something?" My voice is harsher than I intend it to be and I know I have no right but this is scary shit.
"Who would I have told? What could anyone have done? I don't want to worry Gianna or Joey and we weren't exactly speaking so..." she trails off.
"I know, you're right. You're safe now. I won't let let anything happen to you."
There's a moment of silence before either one of us speaks, but I have to hide my shock at what Cassie says next.
"Can I... can I tell you what was on the paper?"
"Cassie, you really don't have to do that." As much as I am curious to know what's in that piece of paper, I would never ask her to do something she's uncomfortable with. This needs to be on her terms.
"I want you to know. You should know... you should know exactly how fucked up I am before you decide anything with us," she sniffles out.
Crack. There it goes again.
"You're looking at the King of Fucked Up," I attempt to make her laugh, but it doesn't work. "If you really want to tell me, I'm here for you."
"Please just promise me this stays between us. It's hard for me to talk about but I'm trusting you with this," she pleads, more tears threatening to spill over.
"You can trust me, Cassie. I would never, ever jeopardize that."
*
"I was in a relationship with someone for six years. From the time I was fourteen until I was twenty." She's looking me in the eye while she talks to me, but it feels like she's looking me right through me. I nod to encourage her to keep going.
"Things were really good for a long time, but then they... weren't. He was just all I've ever known and I thought that this just happens sometimes, that some relationships are just like that but as long as there's love still, it's okay." The tone of her voice waivers a bit but she keeps looking at me, and while I want to be a good listener and not interrupt, I can't help my next words.
"If he hurt you, I will kill him." I try to say it in a joking manner but my voice comes out strained. However Cassie really looks at me this time and busts out laughing.
I stare at her in confusion while she continues to laugh and I start to get worried she's having a mental break or something, but then she wipes her eyes.
"Sorry, sorry," she waves. "Anyway, I finally decided I wanted out. It was... complicated. It took me a while. When I told him I was done, he was eerily calm about it. Something didn't feel right.
"I found the letter first. I had come back to get the last of my stuff and found it sitting on his nightstand. He wasn't home. I blew up his phone, I probably called him thirty times and texted him even more than that before he finally answered. And he laughed at me. He knew I would come running the second I thought something bad happened to him.
"It didn't take long for me to get the hell out of that house in fear that he'd come back and really get me. Well... he did it. Ten hours later the cops called me because I was only his emergency contact." She stops there, taking a shaky deep breath in.
That's why she laughed. Fuck.
"Oh, Cassie..." The words slip out before I can stop them. I know she doesn't want pity, but it hurts to think of her in so much pain.
*
"I kept the letter. When I moved away from Arizona, the letter was left at home with my dad. My dad never even knew about it. It was kept in a box, that's inside another box, covered by a blanket in the back of my closet. I know my dad wouldn't have the touched the letter, but it somehow ended up at my doorstep last night. Harry, I'm so scared."
Immediately I'm grabbing her hand in the same way we did last night except this time I hold her hand in both of mine, attempting to rub soothing circles around her knuckles.
"Listen to me. We will find out who got a hold of this and sent it to you. You're not alone in this." Her eyes won't meet mine but I do my best to reassure her that I'm not going anywhere.
"You still want to try this?" She gestures vaguely between us.
"I'm not going anywhere. Of course I still want to do this with you. I meant every word I said last night," I nod firmly. "The letter will be in safe hands. Let me take it later today and talk to Zayn, okay?" My words are soft and she finally meets my gaze to give me a small nod.
"I'm grateful for you," she says genuinely with a little more force behind her words and I swear my heart skips a beat. We desperately need a subject change and suddenly an idea pops into my head.
"Hey, Jim throws these parties every quarter for his businesses. There's one this Saturday. They're huge, he invites I'm pretty sure everyone he knows, but they're really just to show appreciation for the employees and business partners. You wanna go?"
"I don't know, Harry that sounds intimidating," she said uncertainly.
"It sounds that way, but it's really not like a fancy business party, more like a glorified house party. Don't ever tell Zayn I told you this, but they're kind of fun." Usually I mope and grumble about having to kiss ass and act like I'm having fun at these things until I get drunk enough to pretend to care, but at least if Cassie goes I'll have a reason to look forward to it. "It's Great Gatsby themed, you can bring Gianna and Joey if you want."
She perks up at this and pauses for a second, but then says, "Okay yeah, I'll go. It could be fun."
_________________________________
can't wait for the party chapters!!
we know cassie's name! i wonder what else she's hiding...
(kashmir is pronounced cash-mere.)
thanks for reading <3