The Real Reed

Chapter 32

I always wake up in a bad mood
I can never fall asleep
I'm always thinking about you

                                      -Miley Cyrus

Harry's POV

"Your mom asked me to bring your dinner." A deep voice echoes through my room.

"I already told her that I'm not hungry." I mumble, mentally slapping my head for forgetting to lock the door.

"She told me. I was just hoping you'd tell me the same thing so that I could have it." The voice chuckles lightly, and I sigh as soon as I hear the sound of my door being shut, because I know he isn't going to leave any time soon.

"It's fine, Robin. You can have it." I tell him, still not bothering to turn around.

"Are you sure?" He asks in amusement, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Mhmm." I hum mindlessly in response, then I feel the side of my bed dip, but I don't look away from the wall across my room that I've found interesting for the past couple of hours.

I hear the irritating sound of cutlery scraping ceramic and I know he's doing it on purpose when I begin to smell what my mom made for dinner.

I make the mistake of turning to peak into the plate, and the grumbling sound my stomach makes at the sight of the lasagna, reminds that I haven't eaten anything since morning.

I quickly turn back around and hold onto my stomach for dear life. The fact that I wasn't in the mood to eat, didn't take away from the fact that this is torture.

"Tastes even better the second time." Robin hums, his voice sounding a bit muffled like he has something in his mouth.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the sound of his obnoxiously loud chewing, but I instantly regret my actions.

I can see the sadness in her green eyes as vividly as this afternoon, and my mind can't help but remind me that I'm the cause. I can't fight off her blank stare that held so much hurt and agony and denial.
I thought the look she gave me the day she left my house was torture, but this is a whole new type of hell.

I silently groan in frustration, feeling the tears prickle in my eyes for the umpteenth time tonight. I was fine letting go in the shower, but this is getting ridiculous. It's like my eyes have sprung a leak, because I can't seem to control the waterworks anymore.

"Could you just go?" My words come out rushed and a bit harsh, but I'm too busy trying to keep my pathetic tears in my eyes to worry about it.

"You know the drill." Robin states rather calmly, and he doesn't need to elaborate because I know what he's talking about, but I don't think I'm in the mood for that.

I usually talked to my mom about everything, especially when I was feeling downright miserable. But on the few occasions I didn't talk to her because I didn't feel like it, or I thought she wouldn't understand, she sent Robin.

It was a weird psychology he used for years that I still don't understand till this day.
It was like he was patiently waiting for whatever was wrong to eat you from the inside out, then he'd be at the perfect place to watch you crack.

He wouldn't say much, he never did. He'd just sit with you in silence until you couldn't stop yourself from spilling everything.
I accused him several times of using sorcery, but he neither confirmed nor denied my claims.