GUYS ITS BEEN SO LONG THIS IS CHAPTER ONE OK
the next one will be from harrys pov i guess
ugh
its rly awko and not the best tbh but deal i guess
i love you guyss:))))))))) xooxoxoxxooxooox forgive me??
let me know what you all think!! comment and vote!!!
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I examined my face in the mirror. My too-long too-black hair. The dark circles that had basically engraved themselves under my eyes. The stubble of now oddly blackened facial hair that I'd been refusing to shave (because nothing really mattered enough anymore to take a blade to my cheeks, if I was being honest). Feeling my collarbone, the rigid bump close to my shoulder from where I'd apparently fractured it when I jumped, I let out a shaky sigh. Who was I looking at? I had asked myself that question every time my eyes wandered onto a reflective surface. Under the face of a stranger, was I still there? Had my dreams, my love, my soul made it through all of the changes?
Or was I, then and forever, Shane Jeffery?
My phone buzzed next to the sink, rattling the cheap ceramic soap holder that Sara bought me as a house warming gift. I tore my eyes away from my dreadful appearance to check the message.
HEY, BUDDY. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU ALONE. WITHOUT SARA. I WAS THINKING BEERS TONIGHT, YOU READY NOW?
- Brad
I thought back to the first time Brad had invited me for beers. The first night I had arrived here. It was a wonder he didn't throw me to the curb.
~
We had gone downtown (far away, thankfully, from the uptight suburbs) to a small dim bar and sat side by side on a couple of bar stools and were quiet for a really long time, just staring at the football game that was playing on a television but not really watching. And we sipped our beers, but weren't really drinking.
I remember how stuffy the air had felt, as if there was dust or flour floating around us even though there wasn't. And I remember hiding my face from everyone, forgetting that they wouldn't recognize me but would instead see me as just another guy sitting with, perhaps, a best friend at a bar.
Brad had shocked me when he turned to me, surprisingly sympathetic, and asked me if I was okay. I hadn't felt it when I started crying, but apparently I had been for a while. Brad let me breakdown beside him, offering me a few pats on the shoulder and a quiet "when you're ready" and even on that day, the day my life was supposed to start over for the worst (whether I bloody liked it or not), I appreciated him and I wanted to thank him.
But when I tried, he shut me up and told me to tell him all about Harry. I supposed Brad was informed about some things regarding my apparent death, but I wasn't sure if they had gone into details with him. But when he said "Talk about it," with lowered eyebrows and the corners of his mouth turned down, I knew that he knew everything. And I could tell he wanted the truth, instead of a morphed, melted version that Management had probably fed him.
So I gave him the truth, and he sat with me and listened to the truth until I had told all there was of the truth. I had never cried in front of a stranger before. And that night I spilled my heart out to one.
"Sometimes I see him or feel him," I had said. My hands were shaking and I had wished to no extent that I had something stronger than a beer to burn my throat. "It's like he's the one who's dead. Not me, you know? And I walk with the cold mist of his ghost. Everywhere I go."
He hadn't answered, waiting for me to continue.
"I need him," my bones ached with desperation. "His voice, I need to hear it."
Brad nodded, staying silent.
"I need..." my words trailed off for a moment, "...I need to know that we can win. Me and him."
"Win?" Brad asked, his voice genuinely wonderful and not at all accusatory.
"Yea," I took a swig of my beer, squeezing my eyes shut.
He waited, eyes searching my face.
"Cross the finish line, hand in hand. Together. It sounds..."
"It sounds perfect, Louis." His voice was rough, firm. I nodded along, forgetting my selection of "idiotic" or "hopeless" or "sad".
"It does," I had answered, my voice cracking.
~
SURE THING, MATE. YOU HAVE YOUR CAR TONIGHT?
-Louis
He answered almost instantly.
YEP. SARA ISN'T DUE BACK UNTIL ELEVEN.
-Brad
I quickly replied with an "okay" and sped to mu coat closet to find appropriate attire for the chilling october weather.
Pulling on a leather jacket (one that I was sure Brad had bought and hafter he took one look at my clothing and muttered 'european..' under his breath) there was a knock at my door, a quiet but effective rhythm of two quick knocks and then three slow.
"Coming!" I called, taking a fast pace toward the door. I turned the knob, feeling cold air blast into my warmed half-of-duplex.
"Hey, man. Let's go, alright?" Brad smiled, his cheeks reddening from the chilled slap of wind swirling around outside.
"Yep," I stepped out, locking the door behind me and following Brad to his car.
"There's some things that I need to talk to you about... But, I just need to know where you're at first." He reached the car, unlocking it and opening his door as I walked around to the passenger side.
"Oh? Like what..?" I asked, opening my own door and sliding into the seat.
"Like Harry. I may know something, Louis," I heard his breath speed up slightly. I guessed it was out of nerves; Harry was a topic of conversation that had been banned from being spoken. Anything, actually, from my old life was out of the question. Brad challenged that at any chance he got, though. And I was so thankful for it.
Sara was one to shy away from the thought of being my friend. She had kept it strictly professional from the moment I walked in her half of the house to reluctantly introduce myself. Brad had told me not to pay worry to her. She was looking to earn her way into management, he had told me. Disgusting. I felt like a rat she was keeping in a cage, for God's sake. Poking with a stick and recording my reaction for her bosses higher up.
"What do you mean?" I asked him, suddenly alert at the utter of Harry's name.
"I mean..." he paused. I looked at him, studying the expression of hesitance spread so obviously over his face. He opened his mouth as if he were about to talk, but then closed it again.
"Brad!?" I pushed, turning slightly in my seat. We hadn't left the driveway yet, an we sat in an unmoving turned-off car while Brad racked his mind for the right words to say. When he finally spit out a quiet "I need a beer first", I nearly rolled my eyes so hard they came right out of their sockets.
"Fine, mate. But it's about Harry?" I urged, feeling his name roll off my tongue as if it were a foreign language.
Harry. I let his smell find its way to my senses. i imagined the warmth of his hand around my own, the soft kisses he would press just under my ear.
"Yea." Brad turned the key in the ignition, pulling out of the driveway. He switched the dial on the radio and turned up the volume, letting a pop song fill the thickening air of the car.
"Alright..." I muttered under my breath, drumming a rhythm with my fingers onto my lap to the song.
A mile or so after we hit the road leading to the downtown portion of the city, Brad's fingers started tapping anxiously on the steering wheel. His eyes kept flicking over to me, his lips kept being bitten.
"Hey, you, uh.. You okay?" I asked. He shook his head, switching on his right blinker and pulling off to the side of the busy road.
"I'm sorry, man." he took in a deep breath and ran a hand through his bleach hair.
"S'alright?"
"Okay, Louis. I need to propose something and it may not be easy fo-"
"What is it?!" I unbuckled, putting my back to the window to get a full on view of the nervous driver. Cars were zooming passed to our left, everyone was apparently in a rush.
"Answer something for me, alright?"
"Sure."
"Are you willing to risk everything for Harry?"
His words caught me off guard. Harry thought I was dead. Hell, everyone thought I was dead. Maybe even I did at times. The question was an absolute no brainer. Of course I would risk everything for him. Harry is the reason I still bothered to yank myself out of bed in the cold dusty mornings. Knowing that back home, maybe even still in our flat, he was still getting up and he was still walking on this planet somehow made something worth it. Something I couldn't put my finger on and in a way that I couldn't string together in my head. But Harry was in my body at every moment, and there was no question in my mind of whether I would risk anything for him. I would die for him.
"Meaning what?" I wondered out loud, not fully understanding why or how I could risk anything. The sound of traffic filled the car for a second or two as Brad puzzled together a sentence.
"Louis, I need you to know that I am all in for this, okay? I will put everything on the line if you can, too."
"Wait.. Harr-"
"I heard some executives speaking about him last week."
My heart nearly stopped in my chest.
"What did were they saying?" my voice shook slightly, maybe from nerves or maybe from a sudden burst of hope or maybe from the need for Harry's touch.
"He's in the hospital in Holmes Chapel- It's called Chapel Springs I think. Are you famili-"
"HARRY?" my thoughts raced, falling back on the dream I had been tortured with through my coma, "WAS HE HURT?"
Harry. Speed boat. Hospital. Memory loss. Forgot me. I loved him. I needed him.
My body shook as if I had been locked in food storage. Scenarios flashing through my head, mental pictures of Harry being hit by the boat.
"No, Louis," Brad put his hands on my shoulders, calming me down with a shake, "Louis listen to me!"
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to slow down the fast pounding of my heart. But I found it impossible because Harry's face couldn't leave my mind.
"He's in the psychiatric ward, Louis. He thinks you're still alive."
"What?" My shoulders were pushed down by a heavy pressure.
I let it seep into my flesh. Every open wound I'd been baring since I fell in love with the curly haired boy on the day he sat on the studio steps with me. The words stung. I had abandoned Harry, and he wasn't even aware of it. Or rather, he was so aware of it that he couldn't believe or even begin to imagine that it was for real.
"I'm sorry," Brad whispered, "But Lou..." I breathed in the sound of my name. My OLD name.
"Yea?" I looked up at him, his hands still clutching both of my shoulders.
"If you're willing to, and only if you're ready, there's a conference in London in December. I'm prepared to offer to supervise you for your management team if you should chose to go."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~