this is me trying

755 26 20
                                    


{"They told me all of my cages were mental
So I got wasted like all my potential
And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad
I have a lot of regrets about that"}

★ LORELAI★

March 30th

1997

Waking up in a new place is always a strange feeling. You have your bed, your sheets, and your things all around you, yet it doesn't feel like home. You try your hardest to act as if everything is normal, and you don't feel completely out of place, but nothing works. You don't know these four walls, or all the things that have happened between them. You have to start all over to learn and create new memories.

Waking up in a new place is never a good feeling when you know you aren't alone. When you've moved into someone else's space. When they know this place like the back of their hands, and you don't even know where the bathroom is. When they've created memories and routines that you'll have to become accustomed to. When all of them are right outside enjoying their morning, while you cower in your room in fear that you'll disturb the peace.

I can hear their loud conversation through my door. Talking like they've known each other their entire lives. That's because they probably have, and I'm just some intruder who yearns to feel included. While, separately, most of them have accepted me with open arms, I still feel barricaded in my room. It's not like they've done or said anything to make me feel this way. Well, some of them.

It was a little after midnight, and I was anxiously waiting for a text that I knew was never going to come. William never checked in to see how the move went. I heard everyone go to bed; Harlow shutting the TV off and Mitch putting his peaceful music on. I took this opportunity to sneak into the kitchen to take my mind off of William. Harlow had told me earlier that everything in the fridge was up for grabs, and I was already eyeing a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

I had tiptoed out of my room, the hallway was completely silent. I was nervous that turning the light on would wake someone up, but I needed to see. I had to open every single drawer to find the one that houses the spoons, closing and opening all of them as quietly as I could. I opened the fridge and freezer door, locating my victim of the night. I didn't want to eat the entire thing, so I forced myself to stand in the cold air while scarfing down the ice cream.

My bare legs nearly froze, regretting my decision to wear the smallest pajama set I own. My glasses fogged up from my hot breath hitting them. Then the worst thing that could ever happen, happened. I heard a door from the hallway open and close, mentally cursing to myself. I was silently praying that whoever it was, was just going to the bathroom and wouldn't see me standing in the fridge like an idiot. But with my luck, they came into the kitchen.

As soon as I heard the heavy footsteps approaching, I froze completely. This time, not because of the cold air. The stranger walked all the way to the kitchen before halting in their steps. I swear I heard them almost turn around. When they didn't point out the obvious figure standing in the fridge, I panicked. Harlow, Mitch, and Zayn all would have acknowledged me. And that's when it hit me.

Harry.

The one person I hadn't met yet. The person who, seemingly, was avoiding me. The person who slams their door to the point of rattling the whole house. The person who locked their door, just so I wouldn't get to know anything about him. The person who attempted to turn around to avoid the inevitable awkwardness of this situation. The person standing silently on the other side of the island.

I had to force myself to close the refrigerator door. I stood there, spoon dangling from my lips, and looking like a deer in headlights. Goosebumps grew rapidly on my bare skin out of nerves. My breath hitched in my throat as soon as we made eye contact.

Painted Lady {h.s}Where stories live. Discover now