Demoralized

Chapter 18

"Oh, be quiet." I joke, gently nudging his shoulder. His eyes crinkle in laughter and his dimples make their famous appearance. His cheery mood reminds me of a little kid, as I carefully scan him with scrutiny. His face is visibly brighter, and his eyes have a certain twinkle I've never noticed before. He's wearing an ACDC t-shirt with black skinny jeans, with his hair hanging down on his forehead.

"So, it was that bad, huh?"

I shrug, "It started out fine. And then this horrifying chick named Bambi showed up." He arches in amusement. "Yes, Bambi. Her actual name is Bambi."

"Wow. How intimidating."

I huff in annoyance and bend down to grab my purse, searching for my pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"I can't get over her. Her hair made her look like a toucan or some shit."

Lighting the cigarette and bringing it to my lips, I feel immediately satisfied and close my eyes in relief.

I'm interrupted by a deep growl, "Put it out." Harry demands. I turn my head to find his eyes narrowed into slits and his jaw clenched. He looks scary, and I think about what the hell is going on. "Did you not hear me? Get rid of it!"

"What? What's wrong?"

He's practically shaking, looking like hes going to burst any moment now.

"Put it away!" He screams, pulling over to the side of the road. "Oh, no. Please, please." He lays his head on the steering wheel and rocks back and forth traumatized, just like the day I first met him. I realize I am still holding the cigarette and toss it out the window as if it's a bomb that's been put in my hands. I stay frozen in my seat not knowing what to do. "No, no, no." He begs.

After the residual shock fades, I manage to find my voice. "Harry, are you oka-"

"Stop! Stop talking! You did this! They were going away!" He cries. "They were going away!"

"Harry?" I whisper, gently reaching over the center console to touch his back.

"Don't touch me! You did this!" He repeats, rapidly flicking his head up towards me. His eyes are all black, looking almost demonic, and it horrifies me. "It's your fault! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Harry, I-"

"No!" He yells again. "They were going away!"

I don't say anything, knowing that I will be interrupted again. I don't understand what is going on. Seeing Harry like this is making my head spin and it is starting to become unbearable. I look over at him in scrutiny, and just wonder why he is the way he is.

Obviously, something is wrong. I've known that since the start. And I've tried my hardest to ignore it and all of the thoughts that push themselves into my brain. He carries an indescribable, immense, and overbearing pain. Not physical. But, emotional. I can see it in his sad eyes; how he sluggishly walks through the halls of school, and his reluctance to smile unless he's around me. It sounds selfish, but it's true. The only time I've seen him truly happy is with me.

As this broken boy weeps next to me in the car, I can't help but feel like I've solved a mystery. It's simple, really. He makes me so happy, while I try to do the same for him. As I see him in the halls at school, I can't stop the awful and embarrassingly huge grin that spreads across my face. I can't help but feel giddy and nervous. He makes me feel good. There's no other way to describe it.

I feel guilty, for not paying attention to what's going on in front of my eyes. But, I feel stupid. What the hell am I doing? Of course, deep down, I've always known that I could never withhold a friendship with Harry, and that I've wanted more than that. I've just been too blind to see it.

His sobs turn into hiccups, and I still feel very awkward sitting next to him.

"You need to tell me what's going on." I demand, silently begging for a response that answers my many reasonable questions.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"Never, ever do what you just did in front of me again."

I laugh, "Smoke? That was all because you hate people smoking?"

"Yes."

"Sure, alright. Take me home, please."

"No... No, I'm sorry. Please, c'mon lets go to my house or something." He pleads.

"You're kidding right? After the stunt you just pulled? Without an explanation or anything? No way."

"You don't understand."

"Alright, whatever. Just remember who's been here for you this entire time. And you're right. I don't understand. I'll never understand unless you tell me Harry. So until you're ready to talk, you can't expect me to just forgive and forget. I don't like being left in the dark."

"I know, Trin. I'm sorry."

"Please take me home, I'm tired and no longer in the mood to be out."

He draws a deep breath and nods, turning the ignition back on and continues driving. The car ride is silent. I don't understand why he does what he does. If he needs help, why won't he talk to me? Or talk to anyone?

Minutes later he pulls up to my driveway. I grab my belongings and reach for the door handle. As I open the door, I turn back around to face him. "You're gonna have to tell me someday, Harry."

He nods in solemn understanding. I close the door and walk to my front door, the only sounds I hear is my boots colliding with the cement and the soft rustle of the wind swirling through the trees.

I enter my house, shrugging off my dad's greeting as I walk through the door. With a long sigh, I toss my purse on my bed and walk to the bathroom, turning on the shower. When I go to grab a change of pajamas, my phone beeps signifying a text message. Looking at the screen, I smile to myself knowing he couldn't last a minute without me.

Harry: Someday, I'll gather the courage to tell you. But, I can't make the promise that it will be anytime soon.