n. since some of you have been asking me what the other characters look like :)) I couldn't fit all of them nor could I find one of Kennedy that really is how I pictured him so I'll try to be more descriptive when speaking of his character. thanks for reading. love ya!
For a few days I had little contact with anyone, even Harry. As I focused myself on writing my term paper, I wanted to isolate myself and recharge my social and emotional batteries. Harry would constantly text me, asking if I was okay. If I wanted him to bring me anything. That he's worried about me. But for some reason, I felt drained. And all I wanted was to be alone. Stay home and eat and work on this dreadful paper.
I blame it on the winter months approaching. The gloomy sky and the seasonal affects don't just physically set some differences but also cause a seasonal depression. My mother has been looking at some other places, as we plan to move after the incidents lately. I'm glad she wants to leave. I sort of want to as well. The stairs are tiring.
After my classes, I headed towards my favorite vending machine. Briefly remembering the memories this machine already made for me, I put in my counted up change and buy myself some Chips A'Hoy. My mood increases slightly, endorphins skyrocketing with happiness. The joy is short lived as I glance down at myself. My thighs and stomach are becoming a lot fleshier, and I think I should start working out. Health-wise. But then again I really want to eat the cookies.
"Tara.."
It's become a habit that when someone calls my name, and I turn around, I don't like the outcomes of the impending situation. My eyes flicker up and I see Cassiel. We haven't spoken since the apartment thing, where I refused to open the door to him after he got into a fist fight with Harry. I can't ever be too careful with people, but now that I look at this guy, I don't see the reason I was so afraid. Maybe in the moment, knowing I was alone physically and mentally with my trust issues.
He sports a leather jacket and his bag strapped around his shoulder. I remember Xavier and the little affair he has with him. Poor Xavier deserves someone better, not someone who's toying with his feelings in the sense that he sleeps with Deborah as well. But, in his mind and to his knowledge, I know nothing about Xavier and what he means to him.
"What?" I ask right off the bat, my voice sharp and dry. Not that I wanted to sound harsh with the lack of hospitality in my voice, but there is definitely the presence of an influence from my dreadful mood that has been dominating me this week.
Cassiel's light, hazel eyes watch me carefully. He stops at a proper distance away, and presses his lips together in hesitation.
I know I must look like hell. My hair is tossed into a pony tail I didn't bother to brush back neatly, I have no makeup on so the bags and dark circles are incredibly prominent, and my clothes are the pajamas I went to bed with last night except for a red flannel thrown over it all. It truly is not my best week.
"I uh...I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about Deborah freaking out on you and Harry like that. And that I was totally out of line, saying shit like that to Harry...especially 'cause his dad," he explains to me, and I wait for him to bring up the apartment incident, and he doesn't so I find my way of bringing it up myself.
My fingers fiddle with the bag of cookies in my hands. I glance down at them before looking to him again. "Yeah. That's okay. Deborah will come around. And sorry I ignored you when you stopped by. I don't know you very well, you just got into a fight with my boyfriend, and I have very little trust. It's a habit."
He nods quickly, eyebrows raising and sputtering, "Oh, yeah, that's nothing. I get it. For the record I really just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. And that Harry was right."
I frown slightly in confusion, not really understanding what he's referring to. My lips part as I pause, trying to find the way to ask. "Um, wait what? What was he right about?"
"I talked to him in Florida. We're cool now and all. But he said that his father never did any of that shit he's accused of. I can't believe I actually believed those articles. They're clearly biased," Cassiel explains, digging his hands into his pockets. He walks past me slightly, stopping to say, "And I'll talk to Deborah. Maybe you guys can talk it out or something. She's just really overprotective of me."
"Okay, sure," I mutter, nodding as he passes by me. He tells me he'll see me around and I sigh heavily to myself. Popping the bag of cookies open, I realize that I've never really read the hateful articles about Harry's dad myself. Munching on the cookies, I decide to go the library and do some research.
My eyes wander the hallways during my walk to the library. I can just feel myself gaining more pounds with every cookie I shove into my mouth. In my mind I'm telling myself this is the last day I'll live off cereal, takeout, and vending machine snacks. That won't even last, I bet.
I toss the empty bag into the trash bin right outside the library. For a moment, it seems like the library is utterly empty, but the further I walk inside, I see a few students scattered across it. Some with headphones plugged into their ears, laptops, discretely drinking coffee even though the rules state no food or beverages of any kind, and burying themselves into long novels. The scene of a peaceful library calms me to an extent.
Nobody's taken up any of the computers by the large windows where the gloomy, grey sky can be seen. The sun is gone for now. We've yet to have a sunny day this week, or even partly cloudy. Any kind of sunlight would be amazing right now.
I take a seat at one of the computers and place my bag on the floor beside me. My hands are fast at typing, so googling the senator of our state and searching through the first few links that popped up doesn't take me long. I skim through them, clicking onto them whenever one seems to look like the one's I'm looking for. While searching, I feel compelled to let my eyes roam the library again. I feel weird and uncomfortable suddenly, but I blame it on my dreary mood and the dreary day to go along.
After a few minutes I find the link. I'm sure I have, as the second I read the article title and the brief description, I know it's about the senator stealing money from the government for his own personal gain.
I understand why these make people so upset, as some are easily persuaded by anything on the internet. And nobody seemed to care that this man already passed away. The false accusations should've stopped at least for a bit. I never knew Harry's dad, so I can't say.
"Jeffrey K. Pallado," I mutter to myself, reading the name of the author. Keth told me that Harry accuses his father of writing the hateful articles, although Harry never tells me anything about them or his thoughts on them. Or the fact that he even accused Keth's dad of being the one behind them. There's no contact information anywhere on the site, and as I look up Jeffrey on the search bar, only political articles come up, most of which seem to be local.
Someone can fall under many pen names. I knew an author who had as many as five pen names. They're useful to many and to others a bother, especially when a particular person falls under so many of them and you want to write a paper on them. I frown deeply, looking through the website and skimming the articles about a corrupt government and how Senator Desmond Styles was just another man in it for the personal gains.
I looked at the comments after the article, seeing people either defend the senator or agree with what the article states. These theories might as well be conspiracies with the profound details he provided. Money has always been an issue.
Eventually I come up to an older article. The picture used seems to be of Harry's father, a much younger looking Harry, and Erin. Harry's father resembles him so much in everything. The way he stands and smiles so brightly. Brown, thick hair and gorgeous facial structure. Unbelievably striking. I look at the date of the article, six years ago. My eyebrows raise and I'm so into the article, I'm startled when someone takes an abrupt seat beside me.
"Dude..." Charlie breathes out, nearly wheezing. His eyes are wide and he is clearly out of breath, his chest rising and falling deeply and quickly.
I frown, clicking closed the articles on Harry's dad. "Why are you so out of breathe?"
He sits at the edge of the chair, leant forward only a bit, and shaking his head as he gulps. The struggle to regain his composure is evident. "I've been trying to call your phone like twenty times, Tara," he snarls, his widened eyes turning to anger as he remembers my ignorance to the vibrating phone in my bag.
"It was on silent!" I defend quietly.
"That doesn't matter," he remarks. "But you know the kid I was talking to you about? The one who was freaking out in my class like a few weeks ago?" I nod, wanting for him to get to the point. "I was sitting outside with Martha like a minute ago and this kid comes up to me and he's freaking out but he said that this morning at a baseball meeting in Prov, he pulled a knife out at one of the players--"
"What..?" I mutter, unsettling, and overwhelming feelings pushing my heart in every single direction.
Charlie nods vigorously. "I don't think it was Harry. Because you would've probably known something by now, right?"
I pull my bag into my lap, searching for my phone, stammering, "We haven't talked for a bit. I don't know. He thinks I'm mad at him but..but I'm not. I just...- I-I haven't gotten any texts or calls from him," I conclude, looking through my phone only seeing calls from Charlie.
"I knew that kid was fucking crazy," Charlie rambles. "I fucking knew it. The cops are here and everything searching the guy's stuff and they're at his house and shit apparently? Dude, this is crazy."
With unstable hands, I'm dialing his number and putting the phone to my eat, staring at my bouncing leg. "When did you day this happened? This morning?" He nods in response, looking just as tense I am, but I'm the one seconds from convulsing and withering into death if I find out anything has happened to Harry.
The relief that settled into my body deflated me and I leant against the chair when I hear his tired, husky voice say, "Hello?"
"Harry, oh my god." My hand falls to my chest in pure relief. Charlie leans away from me, looking as thankful as ever.
"What? What?" He questions instantly, noticing the tone of my voice.
"Where are you?" I ignore his concern for a minute, wanting to know immediately.
"I'm at home. I slept in late and decided that I was just gonna stay home," he responds. "I didn't tell you 'cause I didn't want to bother you."
My eyes roll, but not at him, only at myself. "Harry, no. I'm just having a bad week okay? It's not you. Did you hear about what happened at a baseball meeting?"
"No...I just woke up?"
"Some crazy guy from Charlie's class pulled a knife at someone. We don't know who it was. You didn't call or text me all day so I just thought the worst. Fuck, I've never been so relieved in my life," I whisper to myself, while Charlie texts quickly on his phone beside me. He glances up at me, trying to get something out of the one sided conversation.
Harry doesn't say anything for a bit, processing what I just said. "What?..."
"I know," I murmur. "The cops are everywhere. They're searching him for something. I don't even know what's going on exactly. Charlie just told me."
"I'm coming to pick you up. You've finished?" He asks, regarding my number of classes.
"Yeah. I'll wait at the lot," I inform him, beginning to grab my things. Charlie stands when I do, looking to me for some answers.
Harry sighs heavily, and then adds, "Alright. I'll be there in five."
We hang up, and the instant I put my phone into my bag, Charlie asks, "Is he coming to get you?"
"Yeah. I guess he's gonna wanna find out. For a second I thought I was dying, Charlie," I admit to him. "Like I was coming to terms with my life's end. That is so scary. I never want to feel those three seconds of terror like that ever again."
"I know. This is insane. I never thought that would happen. It was almost strategic. That guy would never get into the Uni without getting tackled down by security before he even pulled out the knife. But he did it away from here. That's fucking crazy," he sighs. "Whoever he was willing to kill, seriously needs to watch their back. I wonder who it was."
Charlie walks me to the parking lot where I can see Harry already pulling up. He lives a few minutes from here anyway, so the duration of moments until his arrival was expected to be short. I turn to Charle before leaving, "Be careful, okay? Do we even know if they caught the guy?"
He shakes his head. "No. I was told he got away. And you and Harry be careful, too."
I climb into the car seconds later after saying goodbye to Charlie, and my eyes meet with Harry's. His hair is messy and frizzy across his cheeks, and he sports a thick grey jumper with black jeans on. Only for a second do I look and then I'm leaning over the armrest and taking his face into my hands, feeling the light stubble across his jaw and kissing his lips sweetly and urgently. He reacts without surprise, somewhat expecting me to do this. I regret being in that dreadful mood, not realizing how I was making him feel like I was pissed off with him in particular.
"I wasn't mad at you, okay? I just felt drained. And I didn't want to talk to anybody," I explain to him, sounding remorseful. My lips brush against his lightly again, and he looks at me with no reaction, just watching me. And listening. "That's gonna happen sometimes. I just get into these moods, but I promise it wasn't you, okay? I would've felt a thousand times better if you told me you were staying home."
Harry raises a hand to stroke my hair behind my ear, pressing a soft kiss on my lips before pulling away. My hands drop back into my lap, but my body is still leant forward. "Okay...I know. But Cassiel called. He wasn't at the meeting either. I found out who it was, by the way. He got cut up in his back, but it wasn't too deep. They're still scared it'll get infected because it was really close to his spine."
"Who was it?" I ask.
"It was my friend Fin. The jersey jacket he had on saved him from being paralyzed. They think the thick material might've prevented him from getting the blade its last few centimeters into his spine that would've left him a quadriplegic," Harry explains quietly. "I still can't believe that happened. Especially to Fin. Because he's not a guy who likes to make enemies."
I sigh heavily, rubbing my hands over my face as I lean back into the passenger side. "I know. I'm glad he's okay, though. Do you know anything else? Anyone else hurt on the team?"
He shakes his head. "No. The cops are searching everywhere for the guy. I have no clue who it is. I think I'm going to visit Fin at the hospital today."
"I'll come with," I suggest, and he nods. He starts up the car again. For a moment, we say nothing. "I was reading through some of the articles about your dad. Cassiel came to me and said you guys were cool again?"
Turning the wheel, eyes ahead, he nods. "Yeah. I still think you were right to not open the door. Just because you never know with people," he mutters.
"Yeah. I thought so, too. But do you know a writer by Jeffrey K. Pallado? He writes the articles about your dad," I explain briefly, looking at him carefully. "You never talk to me about them and I just wanted to know how you feel."
"Not a good time, Tara," he warns, and as we stop at a red light, he looks at me and adds, "However, I know of that name. But it's not a real person's name. It's a pen name. You remember several months back when I first met you, I was caught with records and documents from my dad's office? It's cause I was looking for the asshole. Couldn't find him anywhere. Katherine and Erin asked me to let it go. And I did. I don't care anymore. So I don't talk about it, because I don't want to," he snaps.
The light turns again and we presses on the gas. I'm quiet, feeling like I should've kept my mouth shut and brought it up some other time. But with me and my life, there is never good timing. "Okay...I'm sorry for bringing it up," I try my hardest not to snap back at him for the tone he used, because he was right about the timing part. One of his friends just got assaulted and is in the hospital.
He sighs. "Okay..no. I'm sorry. I hate when it slips out like that, especially on you. I just...don't want to pay attention to some low life loser that has the time to bash my dead father," he bluntly confesses, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
"Harry," I whisper, watching his jaw clench tightly. I place my hand on his shoulder. He doesn't respond to me until we've gotten to the lot of the hospital. He parks the car and undoes his seatbelt with a click. He gets out of the car with the slam of the car door and I follow. I reach out for his hand, and place my hands over his cheeks. Standing on the tips of my toes, I look into his eyes and whisper, "You can't walk in there like that. Just look at me, okay?" We make eye contact.
When he's calm, and I can tell by the way he releases his jaw and gives into my embrace, holding me tight to his body, we resume going into the hospital. We spot some of the team in the waiting lounge after we're told Fin isn't taking visitors other than family yet.
Cassiel stands when he sees us, giving Harry a look as he says, "Hey, man."
The other guys I don't recognize, but they seem to know who I am as they greet me. We sit together at the lounge, my hand sliding into Harry's that he has on his lap. He looks down over at me, finding comfort in my presence. Until one of the guys says to Harry, "Harry, your jersey jacket saved Fin from being paralyzed."
He looks up at the guy. "He was wearing my jacket?"
"Yeah. The custom ones with our jersey numbers. He said you have his because he accidentally grab the wrong one in Florida," he explains, trying to make light of the situation when he chuckles and says, "He's dyslexic, so you know, what are you gonna do.."
Cassiel also chuckles, and the guys find comical relief even if it was for a few seconds.
n. heelloo! i will be making up an updating schedule considering I take AP courses (pain in the ass) and I need to manage my time. but thanks for reading!
any predictions?