I fold the pages back over as I look up, seeing Harry standing right in front of me. His blazer is buttoned but reveals a white shirt and black tie underneath. His hands are in his pockets and he is wearing a smirk that I'm becoming to know all too well.
"Hiding something?" Harry asks, reaching for the papers. I bat his hand away, surprised at how Harry reacts to the touch. His face almost goes soft. I didn't hate it, but I wouldn't even admit that on my deathbed.
"Just your notes." I tell Harry, folding the papers in half. Harry unbuttons his blazer with one hand and sits next to me, a few inches between the two of us on the bench.
I look over to see Harry pulling out a cigarette, offering me one as well. I shake my head, not wanting to smell like smoke before the meeting. From what I can tell this isn't the first thing Harry's smoked today, his eyes bloodshot red.
The poem I found is replaying in my head as Harry smokes next to me, his lips wrapping around the end of the filter. I shouldn't be acknowledging these small characteristics, but I'm not actively trying not to either.
"Louis," Harry says, breaking me from my thoughts.
"Hm?"
"Time to go." he says, motioning back to the castle. His cheeks are red, like he was embarrassed that I was staring, when I should be the embarrassed one.
"Right." I say standing up. I wait for Harry to get up and put out his cigarette. I don't know what to do with myself so I basically walk in circles like a complete fool. Harry watches as I do this, his eyes following my dorky movements. This time my cheeks turn red. I end up tripping over my feet and fall to the ground, getting dirt on my blazer.
Harry chuckles and starts walking towards the castle, not offering me a hand to help me up.
"Jerk." I mumble getting up off the ground and dusting off my pants. I run after him, catching up with him at the main gate.
"Ready to face the music?" he asks as the guards open the main doors. I furrow my brow.
"Why do you care?"
"I don't. To be honest, I'm just sitting back and watching your demise. It's pretty entertaining." he shrugs, but there isn't a hint of laughter in his voice. He actually means it.
I don't say anything else, and neither does he. We just walk side by side down the empty halls to one of the many round table rooms, the only sound is our shoes clicking on the tile floors. We pause outside of the meeting room, muffled laughs and conversations seeping through the wooden door.
This room has many secrets, some that even I don't know. These walls, filled with dingy wallpaper and old paintings of relatives that never made time to do anything other than boss people around, they hold all of the discussions, all the arguments, all the unanswered questions that have been spoken aloud, or just rested in the back of a dreamer's mind.
I hate this room.
I always find that my worst days are the days I'm stuck in this room, listening to middle aged men argue over issues that don't matter. No, they never talk about the real issues. The issues that happen towards the edges of our country. The issues of low incomes, homelessness, disease, the people who are completely isolated from the other part of the country. The part of the country with too much money for its own good.
I guess I'm part of the problem, though. I never dare to speak up unless I'm spoken to. It keeps my head from being bitten off by everyone else in the room. One day though, I'll gain the confidence to stand up to them. One day.
I look over to Harry who seems to be dreading this just as much as I am. At least we have that in common. I slowly put my hand on the doorknob and turn it, pushing the door open, the smell of old whiskey and expensive cigars flowing out of the room.
