21ˁᵀ CHAPTER
“There is no place for normal people in this world, either be a stupid or a very special one”
For the first time in ages, she wakes up to the sound of the alarm going off; barely manages to move a hand to turn it off before knocking her arm against the bedside table instead. She curses silently to herself, and that’s when she notices her head hurts.
And, God. Isn’t that just pathetic?
Elisha didn’t drink last night. Probably just one sip of beer or two, but she’s come to adopt such a boring routine that one single night out is enough to get her knackered. She groans again, mostly because she’s embarrassed of herself and what her life has turned into.
She used to be a lot more fun during uni. But that’s just a sign she’s grown up, she tells herself. It must be a good thing she’s reached the mental state of a ninety-year-old. Kinda.
Leesh digs the heels of her palms into her eyes and pushes the blanket away, blinking slowly to try and adjust to the morning surroundings, glancing quickly out the window to see a hazy and silent town outside, grey and boring. Elisha loves these days better.
Still on her pyjamas, Leesha checks the clock once more just because it hasn’t sunk in yet every since the alarm went off, and then she drags her feet on the carpet until she’s in front of the bathroom door, grips the knob and shivers at the cold touch it offers before twisting it and walking in on autopilot.
The rest goes still as if she hasn’t woken up fully, not until the cold water washes all the sleep off her face, vanishes from the entirety of her body. Elisha is so incredibly tired she wonders how she usually wakes up on her own just because she’s used to it, used to mornings and actually having to leave her bed. It definitely sounds like a sin.
Already half-presentable, she walks out of the room and towards the one next to hers, pushing the door open without even knocking, knowing he’ll be already up by the smell of tea and also because he always is. It’s something that has happened for the past few weeks, and none of them seem to bother. All in all, it’s a good thing for them both, keeping human contact without actually sharing words, or whatever.
“’Morning,” she announces, closing the door behind her and settling at the end of his bed, making herself comfortable by grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around her legs; her back against the wall.
He nods his acknowledgment, pouring the liquid into two mugs and handing her one of them, walking backwards to rest his hip against the table and lean on it, actually half-sitting on it with feet firmly planted on the ground, ankles crossed lazily.
The room feels oddly empty still, because somehow Elisha has gotten used to the image of several paintings shoved under the table and some even under the bed, pointy edges peeking off, but now Harry has given up on all of them, has thrown them all away with the mere excuse of “I need space” that Leesh doesn’t buy for a second.
They barely stay at their rooms. But she’s not going to argue his reasons.
Leesha blows smoothly at the constant steam, wraps and unwraps her fingers around the mug too-hot, analyses the tea carefully before sipping it, and peeks up at Harry when she feels his gaze glued to her for far too long, his skin creased between his brows.
“Should we talk?” he asks quietly when their looks lock, turns his head down to his own mug as the words leave his mouth.
Elisha studies him for a while, trying to understand what the hell he means now, why he’s so random at times (she’s still not fully used to it), when she gets it. Okay, so he’s worried about the kiss. To be honest, she hadn’t expected him to remember at all, considering how light and happy and outgoing he had been the night before, always with some sort of drink between his hands.
Harry actually being able to recall that mere moment wasn’t an option to her, but she wasn’t worried, per se. Leesh shrugs.
“Do you want to talk?” she replies with another question, sipping casually the tea because it’s the most casual thing she can do right now. Maybe attempting to move would startle him.
The casual still does it for him, though. He snaps his head up and his gaze is half amused and half confused, eyes of a dark-green over the bags underneath them, merely noticeable. He’s either really used to being hung-over or he isn’t feeling like it at all, judging by how his hands are loosely around his own cup of tea rather than pressing against his temples.
“I just don’t want it to be misjudged or something.”
Leesh dares to arch a brow at him, moving her hips gently on the bed to untangle the sheets from under her thighs. “We kissed at a party, Harry. What’s there to misjudge? Or you didn’t mean to shove your tongue into my mouth?”
He pulls a face at that, gobbling down the rest of his beverage and putting the cup aside. “Gross,” he comments, back turned to her, and when he turns around, he looks serious again. “Just. I’m not making a move on you or anything.”
Elisha laughs this time around, hands him her empty mug and keeps the smile on her face. “Haven’t you had any hook-ups before, Haz? It’s not like I’m going to show up tomorrow claiming my undying love for you.”
He breathes out his own laugh, shaking his head to himself and pushing away from the table. “That wasn’t what I was expecting.”
Leesh snuggles closer to the blanket around her legs and tilts her chin up, curious. “Then what were you expecting for?”
Harry shrugs, crossing the distance between them and taking a seat on the other side of the bed, pulling his legs closer to him. “Dunno? Maybe you wanting something else, expecting something else, some kind of change. Anything.”
She keeps her face still when she says “It doesn’t have to change anything, if you don’t want to,” Harry smiles softly at that, his own sort of ‘thanks’ she lets slip with a joke. “Also, I’m offended. I slept with PJ, dated with him for God’s sake, and we still act as the stupid jerks we were before a relationship even came along. You should have taken conclusions out of that.”
When Harry mutters a “sorry”, quietly into himself, she smiles wider, pats his knee and pushes up and out of his bed, motions to the door and heads out back to her own room, needing to get ready for yet another monotone day at the café.
The same one she wouldn’t change for the world.
--
“He’s ridiculously attractive but so weird at times,” Bridgit comments, hands busy with the food and back to Elisha, who sits quietly behind the table.
There’s a couple waiting for breakfast outside, Dorothy taking her time spoiling them the way she always does, with sympathetic smiles and soft giggles, casual topics and sweet voice. She’s a natural charmer, Leesh recognises, and no one can quite do it as she does.
It’s one of the reasons why the café is still up: Dorothea. Without her, without the love everyone stands for her, it wouldn’t be possible.
“I’m still stuck at the ‘ridiculously attractive’,” she mutters with a short laugh, then amends. “He isn’t weird,” Elisha finds herself saying, careful. She picks quietly at her nails, swinging back and forth on the plastic chair. “He’s just complex? Tough past, something like that.”
Bridgit turns around briefly with both her brows hidden underneath the line of her fringe, her stare doubtful and intent, a silent question behind her eyes that she doesn’t voice. Elisha pretends not to see it.
She shrugs as a final act. “He’s just odd, I mean. Like he’s misplaced, like he wonders what he’s doing here at all.”
“Don’t we all sometimes?” she retorts thoughtful, the smell coming from the pan making her stomach churn even though she’s just had breakfast about an hour ago. “Like, don’t you wonder sometimes why you’re still here, when the actual big thing is less than a mile away? When many people’s city of all dreams is just next to us?”
Bridgit fully turns around now, eyes wide and hands stilled. “Are you thinking of giving up the café?” she asks, voice high pitched and dumbfounded. She’s flabbergasted, her deep dark eyes even darker and bigger with some sort of panic.
Elisha laughs it away. “Look at me, B. You know how much I love this place, I’m not giving up on it.” Bridgit sighs in relief, but keeps looking at Leesh as if something’s off. “’s just that- Sometimes I feel like my life has settled too much. Yesterday I went to a party and only that made me wake up feeling like shit. No drinks, really. How old am I?”
The brunette girl sighs again, but this time around it sounds suspiciously like defeat. “I know what you mean,” she admits, turning off the stove and gesturing for Leesh to hand her a plate. She does. “This isn’t the life I’ve dreamed of for myself either, but.” Bridgit turns the pan until the pancakes fall into the plate, grabs the honey to pour over them. Then, she whispers. “It’s my grandma, you know.”
Leesh nods, stealing one of the pancakes, receiving a glare in return. She shrugs. “Do you think,” she starts off, mouth full. Before the following words, though, she swallows. “Do you think that when Dora passes away, this place will survive?”
Bridgit looks down, walks away from Elisha and out the kitchen. During those mere seconds Leesh stays on her own, she wonders if she’s said something wrong. But before she gets to a conclusion, Bridgit is back, looking terribly guilty.
“I don’t think so,” she finally says, taking a seat next to the smaller one. “Even though I’m the official heiress, I know I’ll leave this to end the moment my grandma is not here to tell me daily how much she loves it. With time it’ll stop being an incentive, you know? It’s just going to fade.”
Elisha hums, drumming her fingers against her thigh to keep distracting herself. “It’s comprehensible. You’re young and you’ve got the future ahead of you to chase what you’re studying for.”
Bridgit snorts. “What are you even talking about? You’re not much older than me, Elisha. You yourself have the chance to become whatever you want, too.”
She averts her gaze again. “Nah. Your grandma got me here. I’m completely dependent of her, of this place. I complain without fundament, most of the time. The same way you know you won’t work for this, I know I can’t live without it anymore.” Leesh laughs quietly to disguise the tears blossoming, swallows them dry. “This is the only place that feels like home to me, even more than my parents’ house, which is so weird. I can’t even-”
“Yeah, I know,” Bridgit agrees with that knowing tone. It’s silent after.
Elisha looks at her when she finally feels like she can do so without betraying herself, and what she finds within dark eyes is the same fear and fondness she feels bubbling inside her own body. She sees someone younger than her, with dreams so big they can’t fit this small place, so big and yet so simple they don’t belong here. She sees the eyes of someone who’s mere steps away from going further and winning the world.
And then she realises, assures herself even more that she doesn’t want it to herself. She wants the chance to save the world into a camera, yes. She wants the chance to write her mind out and describe the simplicities in hard, well-thought and developed words, of course. And she wants to impress people with her ability to portray what she sees, but she also wants those people to be the ones who care about her.
She doesn’t need to go far to make a change. She wants to stay here, where it’s safe and certain, and that can’t be asking much.
Except you can’t have everything you aspire for in the palm of your hands.
“You’re special, Leesh. To my grandma, to Edwin, to PJ, to me, even to the dog that shows up here every now and then. And you’re special to Harry now, too, apparently. He only seems to open up to you.”
Elisha shakes her head fiercely, standing up abruptly to go back to behind the counter, where she belongs during the days. She’s just ridiculously ordinary.
“I’m stupid, Bridgit. Is what I am.”
“Say whatever. But you have one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen, and whatever charms you about my grandma- you got it. You’re just as special as she is.”
She laughs awkwardly and flicks at Bridgit’s forehead, walking backwards towards the door, about to deny something again, maybe spit out some joke, when she’s cut short by the solid presence of a body behind her back, large hands holding her shoulders as if to give her support to not trip over his feet and fall face first onto the ground, as she probably would.
Harry’s smiling with amusement and Bridgit is smiling with acknowledgment, and she just can’t find the words to describe exactly what the whole scene’s got to make her heart swell as much as it does.
--
Author's Mind (?)
Comments: 1. Nah, Harry doesn't regret the kiss as y'all thought. He wasn't even that drunk, actually.
Dedication (to the best comment): {@urwithstyles} Aw, thank you love! I'm so happy I get to make you think more about things, reflect more. People should do it more often. And, well, the fact that you like my writing is just a bonus. Thank you very much.
Next Update: Wednesday; April 23rd