skinny || h.s. au [Rewrite Now Up!]

twelve

Marley steps up the creaky wooden stairs to her porch. Goes to open the door, but it's locked. Which means Jax isn't home. She just sighs and pulls out her key from her pocket.

Because no matter what, her brother looks like deception and smells like addiction. But Marley is used to that so she says nothing.

"Make yourself at home." She gestures around the small space as she steps through the door, closing it behind her company.

Maybe after he sees this dump he'll go away.

Maria's words ring through Marley's ears like she's in the room with them. But she figured out long ago that no one can hear Maria except her.

Because Marley is all cold fingers and half-crazed minds and crystal blue eyes that remind a certain boy of icicles and frost-bitten noses.

Harry looks around the room and sees old furniture and a shabby area rug but somehow it looks more like a home than his ever did. Because new, new, new is not always better.

"Nice house." He murmurs but Marley only scoffs.

"Yeah, sure." She rolls her eyes before ascending the stairs that lead to her room. She half expects him not to follow. To see this awful place in comparison to his and leave.

But a second later she hears the steps creak behind her and she knows that maybe, just maybe, he might be a better person than she hoped.

And Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to fix her.

"So this is my room. Isn't it just wonderful?" Marley asks sarcastically. Leans against her desk. Hides her hands in the sleeves of her sweater.

Because Marley is all cold fingers after all. And half crazed minds. And crystal blue eyes.

Harry walks to her bookcase. It's more bare than his, but he still recognizes a few titles. "You like classics?"

He pulls out an old-looking copy of Little Women. A story he remembers being forced to read in school a few years ago.

"I used to." She says softly. Shrugs. "I don't read so much anymore."

"Why not?" He asks, flipping over the novel to inspect the binding before putting it back.

"Sometimes the silence is just too loud." Marley mumbles. Looks at her sleeve-covered fingers. "Sometimes I wish I could escape my head and into a book. But I just can't anymore."

Harry can see that Marley is suddenly vulnerable as she speaks her mind. Her hair falling around her face like a curtain to the world. But he thinks for a moment that this is the real Marley. Beautiful and broken.

"Sorry. I'm being weird." She quickly apologizes. Tucks her hair behind her ear. Licks her dry lips. And stares out the window above her mattress.

"It's okay." Harry says, walking toward her. He stops just a bit farther away than he would like to. But he doesn't want to scare her. "You're very poetic when you speak your mind."

Marley just laughs. "You know, I keep thinking that after you learn more about me, you'll run for the hills. And yet here you are."

Harry doesn't really know what to say. Does she really want him to go away? The thought makes his heart sink a little.

"Why?" She adds.

"Because you're Marley Parker." He shrugs. Takes one of her sleeve-covered hands. And he can feel her cold fingers even through the fabric. "And you're the only person who makes me feel like me. Because you're the girl with the crystal blue eyes that I can't get out of my head. Because they remind me of icicles and frost-bitten noses. And you have cold fingers. And your hair is so light brown it's nearly blonde."