Author's Note: IMPORTANT: I've changed Chapter 28 (chapter before this) several times but finally settled on something. If it has been changed since you last read it, please go back and make sure that you read it or are up to date with the changes. Thank you!
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"Charlotte..." Harry started. I looked up from my homework that I was desperately trying to get done and set it on the coffee table, knowing that I was about to be fully engulfed in a serious conversation. I could tell from the tone in his voice, though I wasn't particularly excited about it. It seemed like lately, our serious talks just brought bad news.
"I think we should consider getting help for you."
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, immediately offended.
"Relax..." he said, slowly, placing a hand on my lower back to comfort me, but it only made things worse. I stiffened and moved farther away from him. "Don't be angry with me without me even explaining. You've had multiple panic attacks every day since the day you came home and not to mention the nightmares..."
"I've always had panic attacks."
"I'm aware, but we both know that they've never happened nearly this often. You and I both know that it has everything to do with what happened with Matt. I honestly just want what's best for you."
"You sound like my parents now."
"Will you at least think about it?"
"What are you suggesting? Checking me into rehab?" I felt completely detached and wanted to stop talking about it. I was fine the way I was. I'd get over it eventually. It would just take time. Just like everything else.
"Not at all, not at all. Is that why you were freaking out so much? I would never consider sending you away... You know that. I'd never do that in a million years. I was thinking something more long the lines of seeing a therapist once a week or as little as going to the doctor to get anxiety medication." he finally explained himself.
"I used to take them when I was younger and it was the antidepressant kind so if I even forgot to take them for one day, I'd immediately feel awful all day long. I don't want to take them anymore. I didn't like it then and I wouldn't like it now."
"I could remind you to take it and besides that, they'd probably give you a different one. They ask what you've taken before and you'll just tell them that you had a bad experience with the antidepressants. I really think that it'd be good for you to try either. Or both. I'd go with you to therapy or the doctor." I'd been so snappy. I knew that I shouldn't bring it up, but I did anyway.
"I didn't suggest that you go to therapy when you didn't feel good." I muttered, sliding to the other end of the couch. As soon as I said it, his hand dropped from my back as if he had just been burned. He bit his lip and his knuckles turned white in a clenched fist. I watched carefully as he tried to calm himself down. "I'm so sorry." I said, honestly, my voice cracking. "I didn't mean to- I just..."
"It's ok." he said, letting out a deep breath but his fist still made it it look like he could punch something at any given moment. "I took medication then and I still do. You went with me plenty of times to get it. I wanted to get better, so I do what I think is best for me and the people around me." he said between breaths. I could tell that he was refraining from saying something horrible to me like I had to him. I felt awful for bringing that up and instantly felt like crying. My heart raced at the sight of his anger and I wanted to go to my room and have a melt down. But I couldn't in front of him. Then he'd insist even more than I go to get what he calls help. As if I can't do it on my own. I put a pillow over my head and sank lower into the couch. I pretended to focus on the TV but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. I didn't even know what show was on in the first place.
"Charlotte, are you alright?" he asked, getting off of the couch to kneel in front of me. The anger had left his voice now- I guessed that he had cooled down or forgotten already. He was too easy on me. I didn't deserve it. I deserved to have him yell at me and say awful things that would make me cry because of all the awful things I said to him. I closed my eyes so he wouldn't see how glassy they were and turned the other way so I wouldn't have to look at him. This is the whole reason he thought that I needed help in the first place. If I could pretend to get better, he'd probably stop bringing it up. But I couldn't even pretend to get better when I kept having outbursts like this. "You're shaking. I'm sorry that I scared you. Come here." he cooed but I didn't budge. "You feel like you're doing this alone. I can tell. But you're not doing this on your own, Charlotte. I was there. I know what happened to you and I know that this is going to haunt you for the rest of your life, but I want this to get better for you." I sighed and rolled back over to face him. Tears were rolling down my face, but I didn't care in the moment. I hugged him and didn't want to let go. "We don't have to talk about this anymore today. Just think about it, ok?" he asked, rubbing my back. I nodded and hugged him tighter. I rested my head on his chest and gazed up at him.
"What made you want to get better?" I asked, wiping the rest of the stray tears off of my cheeks. He probably thought that I was looking for some inspiration, but I honestly just wanted to know more about him. He took a deep breath and and furrowed his brows as he got ready to answer.
"You did, of course. I had no desire to get better before you came around and you know that already- anyway. You know how I was before I met you. If I wanted to get better before you came along, then I would have, but there didn't seem to be a real point. But I wanted to be better for you. I want to be better for you, Charlotte. I want to be the best man I can possibly be because that's what you deserve." he explained. My eyes began to water again. I really hadn't thought about that before but it did make sense.
"I love you." I mumbled, quietly.
"And I, you. And thank God for that. This whole thing would be really awkward if my feelings were unrequited." he said, running his fingers through my hair. "Now," he started, letting go. "Let me help you on this homework." he picked my binder and stack of homework up off of the coffee table and set it in his lap while I curled up beside him. "Holy shit... How do they expect you to do all of this?"
"It's mostly makeup work for the week that I was out. You know...because of-"
"Oh... Yeah, I know... You know, they're damn lucky that I don't storm down there and wring their necks. When is this due by? You'd think that they could be a little bit more understanding of your situation! I don't know how the hell you're going to get this all turned in on time."
"Thanks for the encouragement." I laughed, but it was hardly lighthearted. I knew that I probably wasn't going to get this done in time and my grades would suffer for it. "It's due on Monday of next week. The thing is, I don't get to take a week off if I plan on getting into college. Brantley doesn't take a week of missing homework. You should see my grades right now from missing work. I have so many zeroes. I need to get this stuff in."
"Well, lucky for you, you have someone on your side that is all too familiar with Mrs. Boswell's math homework and I could give you a good essay for Hamlet all from memory. I hated that play, but I paid close attention to it. It was a great story, but poorly written. We'll get this bullshit done on time."
"You don't like Shakespeare?"
"He might have been a real lad, but he wrote more like a teenager of the time period rather than a grown man. Some of the puns he made lacked any humor at all. They were all corny."
"I see. Who knew you had such opinions on British literature."
"Well, I should considering I'm British."
"Have you had any more thoughts on visiting your mom?" I figured that now was as good as a time as ever to bring it up again. He hadn't mentioned it since I brought it up the first time. I didn't know if he had honestly forgotten or if he was avoiding it. Probably the latter. I couldn't understand why he was so scared to see her again in the first place. It's not like she was angry with him, but maybe he saw it differently than I did.
"Charlotte, my life has been really good lately and I just don't want to travel down that road again. I don't want to get myself into a really dark place that I can't get myself out of again. A place that only you can get me out of because that scares me. Being there scares me and I'd like to avoid it if at all possible."
"I love that your life has been going so well for you recently, but don't you think it'd be even better if you had better family ties again? You love your mom. I know you do. She misses you so much. I know you might hate me for telling you this, but someone has to say it. It's not healthy to ignore it, anyway. You're mom is so alone right now. She lost Gemma and now you're not giving her the time of day either. Don't make it be like it was before. Don't make her feel like she's lost both of her children. When your mom was at the hospital, she was so sad to see you so hurt but she was so beyond in love with the fact that you were still alive. She was so happy that she got to see you again. She was excited to meet me. She misses you. She told me that she misses you. You have to go see her, Harry. I'll go with you." I felt like I was begging, but I also felt like I had no choice. This was the right thing to do. Ignoring your problems just makes them worse in the long run. I couldn't leave his mom wondering what she had done wrong when Harry was just too afraid to go and see her again. He felt guilty for all the stupid shit he did when Gemma was sick, but he couldn't just go on forever without fixing it. Harry sat in silence for a moment, as if he was focusing on one of the math questions like I had with the TV, but I knew that he wasn't paying attention to calculus.
"I guess I'll go..." he said finally, biting the pencil that he was holding. "But you have to swear that you'll come with me and I will guilt trip you the entire time anyway. I really don't want to do this. And what ever this does to my mental health is your fault."
"You'll go!?" I shrieked, throwing my arms around his neck to hug him.
"If I knew it was going to make you so happy, I would have agreed ages ago."
"I'll call her and let her know that we're coming tomorrow." I grinned.
"How do you have her number?"
"We may or may not chat over the phone occasionally." I giggled as he raised his eyebrows.
"You know you've got loads to fix when your girlfriend talks to your mum more than you do."
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Authors note: I go back to school in two days. AKA I want to die. But I had band practice today and have it again tomorrow. AKA I REALLY want to die. Oh well... At least I'm writing again. Thank you SO much for 5.3K reads. It means the world and a half to me. The next chapter should be up tomorrow. I've written half of it but I have to get up early for band tomorrow, so I can't finish it now.
-Peyt xoxoxo