ITS A QUICK BAD DRAWING BUT ITS ONLY MEANT TO HELP VISUALIZE !!
Aven Brooks
Leaving that hot room felt like I was on top of the world. With his arm draped around me in territory and a signature article of his clothing on my body—I was in the clouds. We weaved our way though the crowded party with a secret, hoping to god the sex sweat covering us wasn't as visible as it felt. My hair covered the small hickeys hidden up in the shadows of my neck, the collar of the flannel also helping.
He leads me back into the kitchen, slightly in a rush. Before I knew it we were at the island counter, sharing a couple shots with one another like he said. I probably didn't need anymore alcohol, but I seemed to catch myself not caring when I was under his influence. Harry took three quick shots like water, and I took two. Once done, he grabbed my hand and lead me back out of the kitchen with a smirk. I was ready to leave this madness and go back and get some rest. We had to leave on the bus at 5:30, it was hard to think we'd actually have time to sleep tonight.
With my hand in his, he led me out of the sex dungeon hallway and towards the door. This time I was smart enough not to look at the people hooking up in the shadows, but there was definitely sex happening all around me. I'm glad we found a private room to hookup in rather than this shared hallway. Once opening the front door, the lights of the hallway pierced my eyes. It felt like we were stepping out into the real world again, leaving the party behind. I couldn't help but shield my eyes at the artificial light, not being adapted to anything but strobes and dim pot lights. You can always feel how drunk you actually are when you're in fluorescent lighting like this.
He leads my cloudy vision towards the elevators, the journey felt like a fever trip because before I knew it I was already in an elevator with the steel doors shutting behind me.
"I probably shouldn't of had those shots." I admit, facing him in the elevator. He had his back leaned against the wall with a little grin up his stitched cheeks, hands folded behind his bad posture.
"Are you feeling it?" He asks as I step over to him against the wall.
I nod at the slight dizziness in my sight, leaning my forehead forward into his chest. He chuckles and places his hand on the back of my head, giving it a little couple scrunches with his ring covered fingers. I shut my eyes with my hands down by my sides, digging into his chest as he was leaned against the elevator wall.
"This is so domestic," I cackle into his shirt, realizing how coupled this seems from an outsiders perspective. "We're not domestic."
"Tell me about it." He agrees with his hand on the back of my head.
When the elevator opened, he lead me out. Obviously he could tolerate his alcohol better than me, therefore making him the responsible one to get us both back in one piece. We were already outside in the night air before I could count to ten on my fingers. The breeze was subtle and soothing, Harry pulling me down to the sidewalk by my intertwined hand. There were some people hanging around the entrance of the luxury apartment building, smoking and socializing. Just by their grungy apparel, I could tell they were from the party. Harry weave us through the most fitting spots, passing little groups of people all over.
"Harry Styles?" I heard another voice in our trail.
We both turn our heads back, seeing a group of three girls. The were in your typical club clothes, tight mesh shirts, short dresses, heels, running makeup. They definitely were at Niall's party, now hanging outside to share a cigarette it seemed.
The one girl who spoke, was standing in the middle with a smile. Dark curly hair and winged eyeliner, tight jean skirt and a black lace long sleeve bodysuit with it. One that had a deep v-neck to display her cleavage. She was gorgeous and I was instantly intimidated.
"Yes?" He murmurs back, us standing about two meters from their little semi-circle.
"We're huge fans." She smiles, of course her teeth were also perfect.
I discreetly slip my hand out of his, realizing how on display we were. I didn't want to draw attention to the action, it was too complicated to explain to others. We probably should be public hand holding to begin with, I forget he's a celebrity.
"Great." He gives a little closed smile of little interest, going to turn back to the direction we were heading.
Dick.
"Can I have your autograph?" She spoke up as he was almost facing the other way to leave. "We were looking for you in there all night."
He turns back around to face them again.
"I was a little preoccupied." He refers to the party but I knew what he actually meant.
Preoccupied fucking me in the bathroom.
They each glance at me on his left but a step behind, instantly I got intimidated and peered elsewhere. I hate eye contact sometimes, it was too overwhelming.
"I have a sharpie." The girl opens her white leather clutch, searching for it.
I realize the blonde girl next to her looked oddly familiar, I just couldn't put my finger on it. We were diagonal to one another. I made awkward eye contact for only a moment, really feeling like I've seen her before. She was pretty, long blonde hair probably longer than mine. A short red metallic dress was on her body, ending right under her ass. I really couldn't nail how I've seen her before.
But by the way she was looking at me back, it felt like she knew me too.
I turn my eyes away from her as the brunette in the middle pulled out the black sharpie, handing it to Harry. He took it and popped off the cap with his teeth, holding it there and ready to sign something.
"Where do you want it?" He says through the cap.
She takes a leisurely step forward and pushes her tits up a bit, wanting the signature across there. I smirk to myself, realizing I've never witnesses someone getting their breasts signed by a rockstar. This was the type of thing you hear about and maybe catch on the internet, but I had a front row seat this time.
He doesn't hesitate, obviously this was no surprise to him. He presses the toxic marker to her left breast, arching his signature big enough so it ventured its way to the right. His scribbled name slowly became very visible on his chest.
"What's your name?" I didn't realize that question was directed to me until I understood no one else answered.
My eyes turned to the blonde again, the one I thought looked familiar. She was speaking right to me while Harry was signing the chick in the middle. I was a little confused at first, why did she need to know my name?
"Aven." I answer quietly.
Her glossed lips turned to a small fake smile, her blue eyes dodging to the left with a subtle head shake. I was kinda confused, she seemed to look either annoyed or like she just cracked the code of something.
"What's your name?" I ask back, it only felt right.
She meets eyes with me again, seemingly though she didn't really like me straight off the bat. Her eyes steer to Harry next to me as he finishes signing her friends chest, not paying attention to this conversation.
"I don't know, what is my name Harry?" She suddenly exclaims, getting his attention when his name was dropped.
I furrow my brows as Harry turns his head to her, meeting eyes. We all look at her actually, even her friends. It seems like everyone was confused about this now.
"What?" He looked genuinely lost, not acting either. At the same time he puts the marker cap back on and hands it back to the middle, much more friendlier, girl.
"My name," She repeats, crossing her arms. "Or did you forget it's actually not Aven?"
I widen my eyes a bit, my intoxication making this far too hard to figure out. What does she mean its actually not Aven? Why is my name being brought into this? Who even is this?
His eyes goes wide, almost like everything just clicked for him. From my guess, these two have definitely met and he's forgot. And when I say met, I mean fucked. Harry doesn't just meet girls.
"Nessa?" He furrows his brows, saying her name at last.
She gives a little snarky smile, arms crossed.
"Oh so you do remember?"
Realization hit me onto who this stranger was. My lips part but I contain my gasp when the epiphany hit. She was that girl I saw in Harry's dressing room, that time I was hiding in his closet. She's also the same girl he had on his balcony railing the next day, basically threatening her life. What was she doing here? She was from Washington before.
And how does she know me?
His face went a little pale in shock, it was very unlike him. He always comes off very sly and casual, but by the look on his face I saw how much he got uncomfortable with this situation. I was very confused on why my name was being brought into the mix. Does she know who I am somehow? Did he say something to her?
"Have a nice night." He says shortly, grabbing my wrist at the same time and slinging me around to leave with him in a vast exit.
I furrow my brows at the sudden need he had to leave, holding my wrist rather than my hand because he was that dominant with me in this situation. It was a gesture of control, he stripped me of the choice to protest our exit.
"It was nice to meet you Aven!" I heard her yell as he was speed walking me away from them on the street. I turn my head back to see her standing with her confused friends. When we met eyes, I saw the evil dismay on her face. "It was good to meet the girl your psycho boyfriend likes to use as role play!"
I widen my eyes, keeping my head back over my shoulder as he forces me to turn the corner on the street. Once turned, I broke eye contact with the antagonizing woman once out of my sight. In heavy confusion and shock, I turn my head back up to look at him. He still had my wrist in his hand like he was nervous I'd try to book it back Nessa in need of more answers. He had a sharp look on his face, seeming very agitated.
What is he hiding?
"What is she talking about?" I was a little behind on everything from the alcohol in my system, not being able to piece things fast enough.
"Don't worry about it." He says in a stern short answer, I lower my eyebrows.
"No—" For once I protest, digging my heel into the ground and stopping myself from walking. "You don't get to hide things when I'm obviously involved in them."
He grunts as his body pulls back from my attempt of being stationary for a second. He gave me a yank to my wrist so I had no choice but to give another harsh step forward and continue walking against my will. He was stronger than me, but I still resisted.
"Harry!" I get annoyed, his behaviour flipping as I jerk my wrist back again in fight. This time he gives in and stops walking, but wasn't happy about it. He turns to face me in the middle of the quieter sidewalk downtown Miami, his jaw sharp and intoxicated eyes dark in aggression.
"What is that girl talking about?" I just wanted answers, pulling my wrist again so he lets go completely.
"I don't know." He gives an obvious fake answer.
"Harry." I say his name in a warning tone, showing how I wasn't falling for it. He likes to keep me in the dark about everything. I usually mind my business, but this obviously involved me somehow or that girl wouldn't of known my name already.
He rolls his eyes and turns his head to the left, avoiding eye contact like he always did when things got heavy. I was annoyed about the eye roll, but there was no point arguing about something so childish.
"I fucked her back in Washington." He admits something that didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out.
"Okay, so why was she bringing me up?" I poke for the real secret he was hiding.
He clenches his jaw again, I could see it by his side profile. He shakes his head and prolongs an answer, still looking across the street to avoid my truthful eyes.
"It's not a big deal." He still tries to dodge. "She's just trying to get a rise out me because of how things ended."
"She was the girl you held over that railing right?" I remember the sight like yesterday. She was terrified but he was taking it all like a twisted game.
"Yeah." He nods.
I remember the key word she said was role play, that was the part that was stumping me. My name was brought up during their interaction at one point or another. This was a while back though, we really hated each other in Washington. I was literally plotting to get him arrested around those days. He was so cruel to me back then.
"Were you... pretending she was me..when you were holding her over the edge of that balcony?" I murmur in speculation, trying not to slur when I spoke.
He finally meets eyes with me, I was a little thrown off guard.
"No, no." He shakes his head, but not leading with any other explanation.
"Then what did she mean by role pla..." I trail off because a much different idea hit me mid sentence like a brick wall. My eyes stare off into space on the sidewalk, my drunk mind putting two and two together as everything went silent.
Oh you're fucking kidding.
"You called her Aven when you were fucking her?" I shoot my widened eyes back up to his, the answer being the only one that makes partial sense at this point.
He freezes with his sight on mine, after a few seconds giving a little guilty smile of pain.
"Oh god Harry..." My palm slaps my forehead, now understanding why that girl seemed to not like me from the start. "That's so offensive for her."
I'd feel like shit if a guy made me role play as a different girl. I wasn't even that offended that he used my name, it's the fact he used it and made that girl feel bad about herself probably.
"I know, I know. But it was an accident at first, your name just slipped out and then I thought it would be fun to stick with it." He rambles out in explanations now. I couldn't wrap my head around it properly just yet.
"Now I feel bad for her, no wonder she was sending me daggers after she found out my name." I couldn't help but sympathize, no one wants to be on that end.
"She went along with it—anyway you were never suppose to know this." He shakes off, wanting to move on.
"So just to be clear though... you were fantasizing me?" I murmur.
I didn't know if I was suppose to be weirded out or flattered. This was very valuable information to have, I can tell why he was avoiding it. I could never admit something like this. Washington wasn't that long after Atlantic City, and Atlantic City was when he chased me up to a pool where I almost drowned.
He gives an uneasy exhale, darting his eyes around to avoid mine.
"I told you last night in the car, i've had sex with you a lot in my head."
My lips curl to a drunk smile, squinting my eyes at him. I think my cheeks were pink, but it was hard to tell in this state of mind. When he caught my cheeky expression, he questioned it.
"What? It's not funny." He defends but I could also see the smile he was fighting too.
I lift my hand up and gesture a pinching motion with my thumb and forefinger. "It's a little bit funny."
"Fuck you!" He says in a wide eyed smile.
I laugh and step up to him, grabbing his fingers.
"Relax, I'm drunk so I have no choice but to be flattered." I cackle.
He chuckles with a head shake, holding back his ability to laugh with me.
"Plus," I tug his fingers, pressing my body against his and looking up with my head tossed back. "I had a sex dream about you once."
His jaw drops in an amusing surprise, immediately I knew he would wanna hear more. I bite my lower lip with my smile, my chin against his chest.
"Really?" He was totally in shock but I could see the burst of happiness in his eyes. I probably shouldn't be feeding his already massive ego, but I couldn't help it.
"Mhmm.." I nod with a grin, turning away so we could keep walking again.
"How was it?" His hand intertwines with mine as we continue down the street.
"I can't tell you that." I smirk.
"Av.." He fixates on an answer.
"Sorry angel." I shake my head, refusing to tell him anymore about it because I knew it would get under his skin.
He sighs in defeat, letting it go as we continued to walk down the night street of Miami Beach. Once on a quieter street, I gazed up at all the tall buildings in the purple night sky. The stars were out unlike last night, not one dark cloud in the atmosphere. We passed countless stores and lit up building, I had no idea what time it was. For all I knew, maybe we had to be on the bus in an hour. It could be four in the morning or a little past midnight and I'd have no argument against either. It felt like we were at that party for a while, but maybe it just went by slow in my head.
We turn another corner, his blue flannel on my arms the only thing keeping me protected from the night breeze. It wasn't cold, but I know the subtle draft would get to me if I was just in my tank top. I never seem to dress appropriately for these parties or outings, this is the second time I've relied on one of Harry's flannels. When we turn to a different street, we were suddenly facing the beach, the street Harry lived on. The calm water was dark and the beach itself was emptier the before. We walk along the other side of the street across from the beach, passing more stores. You could see his tall lit up apartment complex in the close distance, we were almost there.
I turn my head to a tragically lit up store we were passing, realizing it was a distant convenience store across a small parking lot. It was dingy and old, but open even at this hour. It wasn't a recognizable company, meaning it definitely wasn't a chain establishment like a trusty 7/Eleven. There were bars on the windows and the half burnt out glowing sign on the top read Miami Roadside Convenience. It was written in white on a red background, a few letters in Roadside not working anymore. The windows behind the bars were covered in advertisement stickers, and right to the left was a very worn out Coca-Cola dispensary machine. This store definitely has seen some shit, it looks like it was on its last limb. Even through the windows you can see how stressful the lights were on the inside, so obnoxiously white that it almost looked blue.
But then a specific window sticker caught my eye on the dirty glass- a sign that said they had a frozen yogurt machine.
I physically gasped at the sight, freezing in spot the second we were almost past the stores parking lot. He stopped with me in confusion, looking at me then looking to where I was looking. He turns to face the barred up store window like me, obviously confused.
"What?"
"They have a frozen yogurt machine!" I smile, letting go of his hand and heading into the empty parking lot with the buzzing red open sign on top of the short building.
"Av-"
"C'mon!" I proceed across the pavement, towards the store without hearing him detest anything about it. I flee with no attempt to make him follow, my sneakers scraping across the asphalt with old painted parking lot lines.
He's never tried frozen yogurt before, I remember that.
I get to the store and pull open the heavy steel handle, hearing the sound of an entry chime as the door opened up. Like I suspected, the artificial tile lights above were very strong to the eyes, especially when you're drunk like me. I shield my retinas a bit with the sleeve of his flannel, blinking a few times so the haze went away. My eyes perceive an older man behind the counter near the entrance. He was bald but had a heavy moustache, standing in a blue shirt as he watched my arrival. He gave me a nod in welcome.
"Hi." I smile, at the same time hearing the door behind me chime again.
I turn my head and see Harry's tall frame enter the store, giving the clerk a nod as well. Immediately I grab his hand again and lead him to the left of the store where I saw the large silver machine. Through the short aisle of candy, I pull us to the end where I was happy to see the two flavours and the cups next to it. It was your basic frozen yogurt machine, strawberry and vanilla.
"You're gonna try some today." I smile, grabbing the little paper cup bowl.
"I don't want any." He declines like I guessed.
"You can try some of mine then." I look back over my flanneled shoulder and grin, grabbing the vanilla leaver.
I turn back and pull the black handle, twisting it so the machine starts loudly vibrating and the white soft serve yogurt starts coming out of the spout. In technique, I move the cup in a circle so it spirals in a satisfying aesthetic. Once I got enough, I pull the leaver back to stop it, turning around with a smile and the full cup in my hand. I meet eyes with him, openly displaying my childish excitement.
"You're such a kid." He shakes his head, looking at how much this little thing brought me joy.
I grab one of the plastic wrapped spoons, holding it with my cup.
"I know." I almost skip away, but contain myself as I pass him.
We head back to the clerk who started punching things in as he saw the yogurt cup in my hand. I step up and put it down on the surface between, Harry standing behind me and putting his hands of the counter around my body. His black painted fingernails held cash.
"A pack of Marlboro Reds too." Harry says in a quiet tone behind me. I toss my head back as the clerk turns to the shelves behind him.
"You don't have to always buy me little things like this. I'm never gonna expect you to pay." I say with the top of my head back against his chest, looking upside down up at him.
"I don't think a four dollar yogurt is gonna wipe me out baby." He shakes his head.
I smile and pull my head back down in front of me, at the same time the clerk putting down a pack of cigarettes upon request. He punches a few more buttons until the register rung and the total showed up on the screen.
"$15.39."
Harry tosses down an old hundred and grabs the cigarettes pack and yogurt cup for me, handing me one and turning us away to leave.
"Thanks." He says shortly like a chore, but leaving a huge tip like usual.
I'm starting to think this man has never once carried anything less then a fifty dollar bill. I want to say he tipped so high because it was out of kindness, but knowing Harry it was probably because he just simply hated loose change.
With his tall body against my back, his hands lace up to my shoulders. They give me a little grip while we lead back outside, my body pushing the door open so we heard that same chime. Once outside, he walks around me along the empty parking lot curb and decides to take a seat near the vending machine. I stop in my tracks as he sits down on the curb edge, his back curved in bad posture and his knees tuck up and part. He fiddles with the clear wrapper on the new cigarette pack, undressing it with chipped nail polish. Still standing next to him, he looks over and up at me.
"Come take a seat." He pats the pavement between his spread knees. "I just want a quick smoke while you eat your ice cream thing."
Frozen yogurt, way different.
I chuckle, stepping off the curb and onto the parking lot asphalt. I walk around in front of him, taking a seat on the ground and scooting backwards until my back met the side of the curb and my head met the back of his chest. He was towered over me from sitting higher, his knees propped up and open on both sides of my body. I saw how his left inked wrist was resting limp on his knee cap, silver rings on every finger.
I unwrap the miniature blue spoon from its sanitary plastic, placing the garbage down next to me with a dedication to throw it out afterwards. I look down into the vanilla sweet, taking the spoon and scraping off a little taste from the top of the swirl. Once collecting the first spoonful, I toss my head back to look up at him, holding the plastic utensil up for him to try.
"Here." I grin.
He looks at the spoonful, cigarette waiting to be lit between his lips.
"No thanks." He declines, making my eyebrows lower.
"You can't tell me you don't like it, I know you've never tried it." I protest.
"You have it angel, you were so excited." He shakes his head, speaking through the fresh cigarette still waiting to come to life with a flame.
"I don't like vanilla that much." I chuckle. "I much rather have strawberry."
He widens his eyes.
"What? Why didn't you get strawberry then? You were so excited about this." He shook his head and smiled a bit at my words, obviously confused on why I even got it.
"You don't like strawberry ice cream, so I didn't think you'd like strawberry frozen yogurt either. Plus I was excited because I knew it would be your first time trying it." I clarify. "And I was happy to be with you when you did."
He stares down at me for a second before answering, almost like he was trying to find the truth in his eyes. After a prolonged moment, he takes the cigarette out of his mouth. It was a sign of letting me give him the spoon.
I smile and bring the frozen yogurt to his lips, he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue a bit when receiving the spoon. I snicker and applaud it into his mouth, his lips curving around the concave to swipe the confection off. Pulling the spoon back, I keep my eyes on his to see his reaction, amping up something I knew wasn't going to be that much of a big deal once he tasted it. It's literally just vanilla, nothing too crazy but I was waiting for his verdict.
He swallows and looks down at me, giving a little shrug.
"Tastes like fancier ice cream." He downplays.
"Yep." I grin. "You're spot on."
"Kinda anticlimactic so to say." He adds, sticking the cigarette back between his sweet lips so he can start his smoke.
I chuckle through my lips and turn my head back in front of me, putting the spoon back in the yogurt to try it myself. We were across the street from the beach, sitting alone in this sketchy parking lot with no preconceived notion of time. I could hear the buzzing of the nearly broken vending machine to our left, humming its rusty gears. I bring a spoonful of the cold vanilla to my tongue, it tasting exactly how I would've guessed even knowing I haven't had frozen yogurt in ages.
The world felt so empty, so asleep. I couldn't see anyone really on the beach, and not one was passing this general store on the distant sidewalk. This is a place you would never catch me alone, it's far too sketchy for someone like me to be roaming the street at this hour. If I was alone sitting against this curb in the depths of the night, I'd be having major anxiety over my safety. Even if I was with Marissa, I would still be scared of this location. Ryan too. A grungy convenience store in a dark parking lot downtown was not a place of adventure in my eyes, it would be a place to fear.
But sitting here with Harry, I felt so at peace. For the first time, he made eery places like this seem beautiful in an unexplainable way. I was never one to rely on a man to make me feel safe, but I don't think this had anything to do with the fact he was a man. I felt safe with him in general. It was something I couldn't really explain nor understand completely, but it was just a feeling. He shines light in places I didn't know existed in dark settings like this, and I've never met someone quite like it.
Eating little spoonfuls of frozen yogurt with my eyes closed, I felt so at peace in where I was at this moment of time. The scent of his cigarette smoke withered around us like a cloud, the body heat of him around me made me feel so secure. I never thought the smell of tobacco was something I would be so accompanied to, but I've grown to associate the scent with him and moments like this.
I gave him another spoonful, holding it behind me in hopefully the direction of his mouth. He took it without a fight this time, swiping the spoon of its sweetness while holding his cigarette out between his fingers. I was satisfied to see the clean spoon being brought back in front of me, knowing he was actually eating it.
I took another taste then put the cup down next to us, placing the spoon with it once I was done my bite. I couldn't rid this comfort I felt in my chest, in my heart. I felt good, carefree maybe. Life was warm in this very moment of time, and for what? All we were doing was sitting here—sharing frozen yogurt while he smoked a new cigarette. I felt happy, but I don't know why. Usually when I get a spurt of happiness, it's from something happening right before my eyes. My happiness is only felt through things like someone telling me a joke or giving me a hug. Short lived happiness was the only happiness I felt. But yet, I was happy right now and we weren't even saying anything. He wasn't making me laugh or saying kind words of affirmation, but yet I still felt good. I wasn't use to this, was it going to last long?
"Why do I feel like this feeling will last forever?" I speak my thoughts, looking out at the crashing waves on the other side of the parking lot and street.
"What feeling?" I could hear him through his inhale of smoke.
"This contentment, this optimism I feel in my veins." I whisper, talking without my filter I usually keep with me when sober.
I hear a subtle chuckle exhale through his nose.
"Do you never feel content?"
"No." I answer bluntly, even though he was being more lighthearted with it. "I don't think I've ever felt contentment...in my life." The last part of my sentence trails in a murmur, my distracting thoughts being the reason.
Contentment to me meant comfort and essence, it meant meaning and happiness. Contentment didn't result from someone making you have a quick laugh or telling you something to make you blush, contentment was a certain type of happiness you felt permanently with yourself.
"What do you mean?" He murmurs from behind me, wishing for an elaboration.
"Contentment is a long lived happiness, to me anyway. It's something that isn't gifted from others, its only something you can feel in yourself. I don't think I knew what that felt like until now. But how?" I whisper, staring off into space through the white painted lines on the cement.
My mind starts to spiral, the alcohol in my system making me say things out loud that I probably shouldn't. The things I was feeling right now weren't going to last forever, meaning I didn't truly discover contentment after all. But that's what I do, the second I feel a sliver of natural bliss or happiness, I jump the gun and think it will last forever.
"Are you saying you've never been happy with yourself?" He whispers behind me in a more serious tone, blowing out smoke into the night air around us.
Maybe I was saying too much, I shouldn't be revealing this much about myself. Why was I talking like this? I work so hard to contain my image to others, and yet I was saying these somber things to him. He didn't ask to hear this, its selfish of me to just throw my inner thoughts on him.
Grandma always told me I'm a people pleaser.
"You know what... I don't know what I'm saying." I shake my head in dismissal. "I'm definitely just too drunk."
This has gone too far I think, my stomach began to turn. What I just told him is something I've never told anyone, not even a therapist.
"Hey—" He shuts me down immediately, reaching around to grab my chin so I turn it back towards my shoulder. His eyes look down into mine, his eyebrows lowered in question. "Don't do that."
He knew I was retracting.
"No, seriously. I'm talking out of my ass. I shouldn't of had those shots before we left." I painted on a smile I hope was believable, even throwing in a little snicker near the end.
He stares with a serious look in my eyes, flicking back in forth between the right and left. He didn't laugh or smile back, my mask must've not been convincing this time. I turn my head away, but he was quick to pull it back. He wasn't letting me break eye contact, it was intimidating. I had no idea what he was thinking of me, what if I ruined it? I'm not really the type of person I act like I am, and if he finds that out then he might turn away. I'm suppose to be the one that helps, the positive one, the happy one. That's who he sees, not this person who's fumbling out words of her own darkness she tries so hard to keep pushed down.
"I never fell for it you know." He whispers down to me, holding my chin so my nerves wouldn't make me turn away.
I arch my brow, kind of confused now.
"Fell for what?" I whisper back just as quiet, nervous of what he was going to say next.
He glances his eyes around every curve of my face, breathing calm as I kept my sight on him. My heart started to race, the back of my throat formulating an aching sting. He took his time looking at me, I almost started to think he was purposely trying to make me on edge. What has he not fallen for? He knows something. Did I really say that much?
"I don't have to say it, you know." His voice was scratchy from speaking so quiet.
I stare up at him silently, my stomach turning a bit. Was he pretending just so I'd admit to something? I didn't like how he was not giving me a straight answer. The way he was staring at me made me feeling like he actually did know what he was talking about, it made me nervous.
I think he knew I was hiding behind a mask.
I look at his cigarette between his lips, grabbing and putting it between mine instead. I turn my head back, this time he didn't grab my chin. I face off at the parking lot again, my hands on my lap as I dropped my head. My mind started to recycle all the issues in my life like a broken record. A moment that was feeling content and optimistic, started to fade back to the emptiness I carried permanently with me in my chest. This ominous parking lot that I found comfort in, turned into a depressing darkness in my eyes now. I felt cold again, but at least it was something I was more familiar with.
Looking at my lap, I noticed how much my arms were swimming in his flannel. The material stretched right up to my palms, my fingers being the only thing seen. I inhale the potent smoke, coughing a bit in my chest. Once my fingers take the cigarette out, I rest it between my fingers.
My head slightly leans to the left, temple meeting the top of his propped knee. My eyes trace off to the beach across the street, locking my vision on the dark waves that had a reflection of the moon across the glassy water. I felt like all the positive energy in me just diminished, but I'd be an idiot if I pretending this has never happened before.
I felt empty again—just like that.
I brought the cigarette back to my lips, my numbly eyes watching the subtle night waves. I didn't feel content anymore, and I was delusional to think that feeling would last forever. I didn't want to think about it, but there was nothing distracting me. The only way I could get through life was through distractions and electric moments that made me feel like I was actually living. I avoid my inner feelings and hide them to almost trick my mind into thinking they never existed in the first place. Once again, I play a game of make believe.
But sometimes I'm forced to stare at my dark emotions right in the face, and once I did it was like a trap. They capture me in a trace I couldn't figure out how to escape. I become a prisoner to my avoided feelings, trapped in that hollow box I stored them in to begin with.
I never leaned how to rid this feeling, only hide it and hope I can be distracted by things forever.
Throughout all the dismal feelings venturing to my outer surface, I felt a gentle brush to my cheekbone. The pad of Harry's thumb gentle stokes up and down my skin in spot, the rest of his fingers curled in a fist against my jaw. The touch was slow and comforting, very gentle but very meaningful. I feather my eyes shut, pulling the cigarette out between my lips and blowing. He didn't say anything with the touch, it was silent and I think it was better that way.
I think he knew how much this feeling was effecting me, no matter how hard I was trying to hide it. Maybe he understood, but I always felt like no one understands. Maybe he just felt bad, I would if I saw him like this. I hated how much I was physically showing my problems right now, I've never felt so raw of emotion in front of someone else.
I suddenly felt the creeping warmth of him leaning over my side profile, his lips moving over my ear. I stopped breathing when I felt the intimate proximity, keeping my eyes shut so he couldn't see the sadness glossing my eyes.
"Pretending you're okay so everyone can lean on you for support doesn't last forever..." He whispers into my ear. "One day you'll have to stop hiding how you truly feel about life."
His words flooded right to my chest, making it ache all the way up to the back of my throat. I let out a near silence exhale through my nose, his words making my eyes pinch shut harder. I hope he didn't see.
No one has said those words to me before, I didn't know if they made me feel better or worse. All I knew was my eyes started to water, and without control I felt a tear stumble relentlessly out of my pinched eyelid. It slipped right out the corner and stumbled down the side of my face and straight into my ear. I prayed not to make a sound, I don't want him to see me cry from something easy he said. If he sees me cry, he'll know what he said was spot on to my darkest feelings.
But I nodded, just so he knows I heard him.
His lips press to my cheek, giving me a quick peck of affection I feel like was so against his ways. Once pulling up he brushes my hair back.
"C'mon," He pats my side. "I have an idea."
I open my eyes and sit up, all in one motion wiping my tears with his sleeves without him seeing. Once sat up straight, he gets up from behind me so the cool air hit my back. I run my hair back as he stepped up in front of me, towering in front of my feet. He bends down to grab the garbage with one hand, holding the other out for me.
"What kind of idea?" I whisper quietly, looking up at him and his hand held out for me.
"Something you've wanted to do since we got to Florida." He gave a small harmless smile, holding the edge of the yogurt cup between his two slender fingers.
I was too out of it to try and understand what he meant, but all I knew was that he was trying to cheer me up in the only ways he probably knew how. So, I took his hand out of trust.
He pulls me up to my feet, intertwining our fingers once we were at the same level again. He steps over to the trashcan, throwing out all my garbage. I took the opportunity to sniffle to myself, trying to hide anymore evidence of my tears. I hate how down I was right now, I feel like an idiot.
Once he was garbage free, he looked back at me with his hand in mine. We stood side by side in front of the convenience store, his head turns and stares down at me.
"So...what are we doing?" I murmur at the fact we haven't moved yet and he hasn't said anything else about his plan.
He gives me a mischievous grin, and before I knew it, he started running.
My arm jolts as he starts sprinting freely with his hand firm in mine, I had no choice to run with him just by his strength. My feet started working before my mind could process what was happening, but it didn't stop me from speaking.
"Why are we running!" I shout in asthma.
He doesn't answer and just keeps the fast pace, running across the empty parking lot with me forced next to him. He didn't even look both ways when we ran across the street, realization hitting that we were running onto the beach.
"Harry!" I shout in hope for an answer, this time he turns his head to me with a happy smile I'm not lucky enough to see often.
"When you run you don't think about life!" He shouts over the wind hitting our faces as our sneakers met the unstable sand. "So run!"
His words were meant to be taken as nothing but encouragement, a childish look on his face as we ran towards the water like we were never going to stop. I started to think we actually weren't going to stop, he might pull me right into the ocean.
Towards the moonlight we ran with the sand flying up in our tracks behind us. The wind made with our pace blow my hair back and made my cheeks cold. It was the middle of the night, and the beach was next to empty. With his warm hand in mine, we ran together like the world was crumbling behind us in this coming of age teen film. I started imagining soundtracks in my head that would perfectly suit this cinematic moment, but my thoughts couldn't be prolonged enough to make an indefinite decision.
All I could think about was the water, my impenetrable asthma, and him.
The closer we got to the dark ocean, the more I started to worry about my clothes and my phone in my pocket. It really felt like we weren't not going to stop before hitting the water.
"Harry I have things in my pocket!" I couldn't help but laugh, the crazy side of him on the front burner and not letting go of my hand.
"Angel in life you either pause on the beach to waste time strategizing, or you just keep running towards the water and pray!" He shouts over the wind against our ears, the waves getting louder the closer we got to the shoreline
"What does that even mean!"
"Improvise!" He shouts back, at the same time taking items out of his pocket with his free hand.
I rip my hand away from his but keep running at his pace, pulling his flannel off my shoulders as we were dangerously close to the shoreline now. As I gather the flannel in my hand, I pull out my phone at the same time. In one motion I wrap my phone in the flannel, holding it tight until we got to the shoreline. I toss both items together in the last area of dry beach before the sand was compact and wet.
I almost scream out in exciting panic as I ran out of time to even take off my shoes, but I didn't care. Before I knew it we were running straight into the ocean, the water soaking my vans in seconds as he was right next to me. In the very last moment he chucked his phone and cigarettes away behind him, the water density slowed down our sprint immediately. The sounds of the heavy water splashed at our ruthless arrival, startling the calm ocean in its entirety.
We both had to lift our knees higher as we flew right into the moonlit water, the first time I was touching the ocean in my life. As the heavy splashing water got no more than waist deep, he blindly grabs my hand and yanked it towards him in the run. This action made me crash into his side, and from there he took the opportunity to wrap his hands around my waist throw both of our bodies underwater. I let out a startled scream right before it happened.
Both of us fell under completely, luckily I sucked in a sharp breath just on time.
The Florida water devoured us as he basically pulled me under, my body above his with his arms wrapped around my waist. The water silenced everything in the world besides the amplified pressure of the splashing water at our ears. I held my breath and kept my eyes shut, I was still in my top, shorts and shoes, but for once it just didn't bother me.
After a few short seconds, he pulled us back up. The oxygen floods my lungs as the water rapidly pours off of us and suctioned our clothes to our bodies. I open my eyes with a heavy suck of air, the first thing I come to see was him and his wet clumped eyelashes framing the heavy green eyes. His dark hair was pushed right back out of his face, flattened off any curls he once had. He shook his head immediately like most boys did when they emerged from water, making loose strands fall onto his forehead in a messy way.
I smile at him, both of us soaked in our clothes for the hundredth time since we've met. I was out of breath, and so was he. He smiles through his parted lips, a lively glimmer in his eyes. My hands subconsciously fell to the back of his neck, feeling the dripping hair. HIs arms were still wrapped around me, the water at our hips.
"I can't believe you didn't give me time to think this through." I laugh, water dripping of us from all over.
"You would've hesitated." He shrugs, lifting me up.
My legs snake around this hips half submerged in the water, giving me more height for once. He looks up at me with the moonlight hitting half of him, turning and walking us deeper. I push his hair back our of his face, never seeing so much of his forehead in my life. His hair is always partially covering angles of his forehead, never completely pushed back like this.
"I thought you refused to go in the water with me?" I smirk as he walks us deeper, thinking about earlier today.
"That's not true. I said get a few drinks in me and I'll consider." He corrects. "Why do you think I took those shots before we left the party?" He grins at the end of the sentence, making me puzzle pieces together.
"You planned to do this all along?"
"I had a slight itinerary in my head." He shrugs, hiding the mischief in his eyes.
I toss my head back in laugh, the water well past our waist now to where he stops walking. It made me feel nice that he had plan to do this, knowing I didn't get to go swimming earlier from all the mayhem. It was a meaningful gesture, even if it didn't mean much to him.
I look back down with my grin I couldn't contain, such a big difference than earlier. How does he do that? Make my mood change so quickly. I've never met somehow who has pulled me out of my dismay so quickly. I knew this feeing wouldn't last forever, but I had to try and not think about it.
This was the type of happiness I only succeeded in life, ones from others doing something nice to me. I call it short term happiness, it's also ways so amazing in the moment but never lasts forever.
I dip down and kiss his wet lips, holding his fragile face and shutting my eyes. He keeps his hands under my thighs, holding me up underwater. I prolonged the gentle kiss, wanting to take a mental picture in my head so I could remember how I felt in this moment. He brought me out of a dark place I was falling into, he somehow brought me enough joy that I had an uncontrollable smile.
Made the rain stop of a cloudy day.
I pull our lips back, hearing the sound of them separating. His eyes were still shut as I opened mine, his bruised face relaxed. I had a lovesick flutter in my stomach.
"It's funny how the moon is hiding half of your face right now." He spoke, something I didn't expect to hear right after a kiss.
I arch my brow, "Mhmm?"
"Yeah—cause like, it's kinda metaphorical I guess." He explains very fluidly.
I nod, but wondered where this was going.
"There's a whole side of you I know nothing about because you choose to hide it." He states in philosophical insight, nothing I've ever heard of him before.
"You're no open book either Mr. Styles." I point out, steering away from me being a topic.
"I never said I was." He agrees, keeping our bodies clung together and looking up at me.
I pull my eyes away from his, the water at perfect warmth around us. My hands gently lace up the side of his wet head, brushing my thumb across the stitches on his cheek. He glimmered in the moonlight, almost like he wasn't of this earth.
"I don't need to be fixed..." I whisper, starting at my thumb brushing his temple so I wouldn't get pitied in his eyes. "What you saw back there was a 2am moment of drunk weakness."
When he didn't answer, I forced myself to look at his eyes eventually.
He was looking right back at me, the green never being so alive then when the moon hit them just right. It was hard not to get lost in his irises, they were so captivating. It was a good and bad thing.
We seem to toss around the word of fixing a lot. He has said it to me in the past, even today when he was trying on those shorts. Shorts that would be very much suited for this moment may I add. But he seems to have this dedication to not letting someone walk into his life and pick up the broken pieces. He doesn't want to be fixed, because he believes he doesn't need to be. What sounds so sad to hear, actually made sense to me. Sometimes you can be so broken that the thought of someone else trying to fix you comes off as highly invasive and vulnerable. I know I have problems of my own, but I don't want to be fixed either. You have to want the help in order to truly get it, and I made it this far on my own so I'm fine. I believe he feels the same, maybe that's why we kinda work in this crazy world.
"I don't fix people." He cackles with a head shake. "I will never try to fix you."
"And I will never try to fix you." I agree in mutualities.
"We'll watch each other just fucking crumble to the ground then." He laughs, spinning us around in the water so you could hear it. I smile at his dark words that came off as positive to me, laughing with him in our own twisted ways.
He suddenly grips my hips and throws me away from him. With force my legs unwrap and my hands leave his head, my body suddenly flailing in the air. I scream out and plug my nose as I go down, right before I broke surface. I fall deep underwater back first, my legs folding up above me as I wasted no time switching around and coming back up for air.
The second I emerged from the nightly water, I toss my head back and take a breath. I could hear him laugh from somewhere around me, my coated eyes opening to see him standing there mischievously.
The rebellious side of me splashes him even if we were both already soaking wet, I clench my jaw.
"I hate you." I wipe the access water off my face, he was standing a few meters shallower than me now.
He lowers himself underwater, keeping his eyes on me until he was completely submerged. Since it was dark outside and he was in all black clothing, I couldn't see him through the water. Instantly my anxiety went up as I couldn't see where he was swimming, knowing it was probably somewhere around me. My eyes frantically scan around the dark waters, trying to spot him anywhere. My heart began to race because although I knew I wasn't at harm with him, it was still too much anticipation for my mind to handle.
I felt hands grab my legs from behind, making me flinch as I also felt something slide up between my thighs before meeting my shorts. In the next moment I felt myself rise up tall into the sky like a building, every part of my body leaving the water. Harry emerged again but this time beneath me, I was sitting high up in his shoulders with his hands holding my dangling legs. I could help laugh as I arose from the water, grabbing his sharp jaw for support.
Facing the empty shore, I was 10-11 feet in the air. Water flew off every surface of our clothes and bodies, pattering into the water.
"Harry!" I laugh while trying to keep my balance, unsteadily sat on his shoulders
He cocks his head back from between my legs, head against my stomach. I catch a glimpse of his childish smile, glimmering up at me in impenetrable youth.
I keep firm hold of his chin, wrapping my legs around his chest and throwing myself backwards so he had no choice but to fall back with me. Like a tower we came crashing down into the ocean again, I pinching my eyes shut before breaking the wet surface.
We both smack down into the water, my legs around his neck. Once under I unravel myself, slipping away from his body and launching up again. We broke through at the same time, facing each other as his height towered mine again. In quick decision he grabs my face and brings it to his, I barely took a breath before meeting his lips.
I shut my eyes at grab his hips under the water, lifting up on the balls of my feet as he had his head dipped down. His hands were holding my face firmly, devouring my cheeks with how large they were. I felt every cold ring, every fingertip pushing in my skin. It was a secure hold, mixing with a kiss that was completely frozen in time. We didn't move our lips or transition to any sort of making out, it was just a solid strong kiss. The type that make you hold your breath because you needed to give it that much of your attention.
After what felt like a livelihood of time, he slowly pulled our lips apart. It knocked the air out of me, leaving my heart a racing tragedy of compassion. The kiss was different than some other kisses we've shared today. This kiss felt pure and serious—simple but so meaningful.
I swallow to myself, allowing my eyes to finally open after enduring colours behind them for so long. My wet lashes untangled, and the first thing I took in was emerald.
Close in front of me was him, looking right back at me in serious gaze. His hands stay firm on my face, our noses almost grazing at how close we really were. He breathed light through his plump pink lips, droplets of water rolling down his silky skin. He didn't smile nor play up any sign of joke, for once he was just quiet and serious. I felt a different type of connection, and it only made me realize how much our dynamic has changed over this tour.
"I like you more then I planned..." I whisper up to him, whisky soaked words he once said to me more causally in Atlantic City.
But I was serious.
He slowly leans forward and rests his forehead against mine, looking down between us before shutting his eyes all together. In close proximity I keep my vision down to his face, examining it for any changes of expression.
"Let's go back now." He whispers. "We have to leave on the bus in a couple hours."
I nod, knowing we didn't have to say anything else about this tonight, it wasn't a good idea. I don't regret what I said, even if it was vulnerable in some ways. He didn't look guarded or freaked out about it, but he did know what I said was heavy. Maybe too heavy for a drunk night like this.
He pulls his head back, opening his eyes and lets go of my face. Grabbing my hand under the water, he turns around and leads me out to the shore again. We were putting an end to our time in Florida, and I was happy with it. I never dreamed about coming to a warm sunny beach like this, blue water across the horizon. I was happy to keep it as a memory now. Daytona Beach and Miami Beach have been an insane ride, giving me some memories I'll keep forever.
Getting up to the shore, we grab our items off the sand and keep walking in our sopping clothes. Our feet squeak in our heavy shoes, and from an outsider perspective we looked ridiculous. My white tank top was suctioned to my body, making it so you could see the red bikini top beneath it. I kept the blue flannel in my hand, the only piece of dry clothing that I had a chance to take off.
His apartment was right across the street, so it was a very short and silent walk. With my fingers intertwined in his, we strolled like we were the only people awake in this city. I didn't see a single person around, which was odd for a place like this. I still didn't know exactly what time it was, but I had no need to check my phone.
Before I knew it we were walking into the empty air conditioned lobby, creating an inconvenient trail of water as we valley across the shiny floors. The receptionist gave us a double take, considering we were sopping from head to toe. I started to feel a wave of exhaustion, the shots worn off at this point and my need for sleep talking over. I barely remember getting in the elevator, but I did.
Rising up past tens of floors, he held me in his arms. Despite the both of us being soaking wet, he allowed me to lay against his chest. His arms were draped over my shoulders and down the length of my back, my arms down my side but my body completely slouched against him. My ear was just above his chest cavity, hearing his heart beat. It's crazy to know he actually has a heart under all that steel.
We were silent the whole time, but it was comfortable. I think we were both hitting a wave of exhaustion. He must've been worn of every drug and liquor in his system at this point.
When the elevator opened to his floor, he lead me out and down the hallway. It wasn't long until we were walking through the threshold of his apartment, flicking the light on. The first thing I noticed was the broken coffee table in the far distance, laid slanted on the floor from last nights mayhem. I still felt bad about that breaking, no matter what he says.
I kicked off my uncomfortable wet shoes that have gone through so much at this point. I don't know how much longer they will hold out on me after all earth elements mistreatment. He shuts the door and locks it behind him, my wet feet hobbling over to my suitcase I left in the corner of the living room. I had to get changed immediately, I was already frustrated by being in wet clothes. We always seem to be getting wet.
I get to my suitcase while I hear him taking off his own shoes. I kneel down to the floor, unzipping the bag and flipping the flap open to all my clothes I've been living in. I fish through to grab some sleepwear, even though I may not have much time to sleep before the bus.
I yawn to myself, probably dripping water all over these expensive oak floors.
"Will we even get to sleep before Sal bangs on the door? Probably not." I say to him while keeping my head down in my suitcase in search.
I pull out a pair of loose shorts and a large sleep shirt, yearning to get in the warm materials. I was ready to curl up into dry blankets and a soft pillow. Heck, I'm even excited to hear the hum of I Love Lucy playing in the background as I doze off.
Has he answered me yet? I don't hear him near the doorway anymore.
I turn my head back over my shoulder, realizing he wasn't where I thought he was anymore. I was alone in this grand living room, nothing but his wet converse left by the door.
I furrow my brows and dart my head around, knowing I would've heard him go up the stairs behind me.
"Harry?" I stand back up with the clothes in my hand.
I spoke loud enough for my voice to meet the square footage of this apartment, but still got no response. In suspicion, I drop my clothes back on the suitcase and decide to investigate. I'm sure he just couldn't hear me.
I walk back over to the door, seeing the droplets of water from his wet clothes start to leave a trial. I stay still and follow the wetness with my eyes, watching how it faintly led from the front door and all the way around a corner past the kitchen. I cross my arms and start leading down the evidence, walking through the right side of the living room. I pass the kitchen entrance and walk to window walls at the end of the living room, turning a corner down a darker short hallway.
The room at the end of the hall was where he stood, his back partially too me as he stared at the part of the room I couldn't see. But from my knowledge earlier, I knew exactly what he was looking at in there.
I silently walk with my arms crossed over my wet clothes, leading up to his tall stance in the room. Once I stop in the doorway, my eyes confirmed what I knew he was staring at.
Standing frozen in a puddle of ocean water, he stares longingly at the grand piano.
I say quiet and unseen, watching him as he watched the instrument taking up most of the room. I could see part of his side profile, enough to know he had a monotone look on his face. A few wet curls hung in his eyes, his jaw solid as stone. I couldn't even begin to think what was going through his mind, but I had a feeling they weren't good things. His heavy hands were down by his side, relaxed. I couldn't see the expression in his eyes by the angle and the hair blocking them.
From what he told me, this piano was his mother's. She played, but when she died his father made him take lessons in her remembrance. It didn't take a rocket scientist to understand he obviously didn't have a good experience with it, hence the reason he refused to ever play again. He told me how his father strictly made him play Hallelujah over and over again until his throat went hitched and his fingers went numb. I know he had more to his past then he'll ever let up, so this piano probably had a lot of symbolism in his mind.
What opted him to come in here? I had a strong feeling he hasn't stepped in this room in years...
I continued to watch him as he just didn't move. I wasn't hiding, I was in plain sight within the doorway. There was nothing sneaky about this, he's the one the disappeared. All it takes is for him to turn lightly to his left and see me here. He might even see me now for all I know.
I wanted to help because he looked like he was sad, but we agreed no fixing each other.
I don't know much about his mother's life. All he confessed was that she died in an accident when he was a kid. Immediately my mind thought car accident, but I never pushed for him to fill in the blanks. If he wanted to tell me then he would've. I don't know how young he was or how much of a relationship he remembers of her, but her passing at his young age probably explains why he's so cold to everyone. He must've missed that motherly nature growing up, and if he had that then he would've been a more softer person.
—on the outside.
I know a few things about missing out in motherly nature, but mine left when I was twelve. I only had my teen years to get through without her. And even with that I still had my grandma who is one of the kindest souls on this planet. Winnie too, she brings a special light to my life.
Who did Harry have? Anyone besides his father? He said he was a well respected man, and he's determined to find his murderer. But from the piano story alone I feel like he was maybe too hard on Harry. He obviously didn't give him much affection from what my guess is.
"Do you want to play?" I break the deafening silence of the room.
He didn't flinch nor turn his head at me abruptly, meaning he probably knew I was here. His eyes stay glued to the piano, not moving a single muscle.
This piano is obviously attached to some childhood trauma, so playing it has probably been off the table for years. I can't even picture him playing a piano, but that being because of his image he gives off. The only thing that stumped me was why he still kept it, and why keep it in your apartment where you have to see it? If he just didn't want to toss a family heirloom, why wouldn't he keep it in a storage unit or something? If this piano was that negatively significant to him, why keep in somewhere in his plain sight?
"It's okay to play if you want to play, remember it's nothing more then an instrument." I whisper as he didn't answer.
I wanted him to feel comfortable no matter what. I don't know the extents of his past and I don't plan to ask, but at the end of the day it might be nice for him to know that it's just a musical instrument. I'd hate to seem him stray away from a talent because someone in his life made it a misery.
"No." He shakes his head, finally speaking. "I don't want to."
I nod, honestly expecting an answer along those lines. He turns his head to me in the threshold, breaking his stare at the object.
"That's okay," I form my lips into a line and nod, acting causal about it all. "Let's go to bed instead."
He needed to know it wasn't a big deal, that I wasn't going to push him.
I hold out my hand, waiting for him to walk up and take it. I don't say another word about the piano, deciding to move on like he would want. If he's not ready to climb this hill then he doesn't have to.
He nods silently, walking up to take my cold hand. I give him a smile, pretending none of this happened. I turn around and walk with him back down the hallway, ready to just get changed and go to sleep. He didn't speak another thing about it, almost like it was erased from history. I eventually got to grab my stuff again and head upstairs to his bedroom.
No fixing.
//
I suggest rereading the beginning of chapter 59 to better understand Aven's views on her life. lots of love xx