Afterlife: Redemption

13

LANE

"You're cheating!" I shouted, pointing wildly to the board between us. I tried to keep a stern expression, trying my best to scold him, but as he laughed his hilarious laugh, it was hard to keep my composure.

"I am not," he denied, his face reddening from trying to stop from laughing. "You're just being a sore loser."

I frowned, pointing at the board again.

"Harry, that's not even a word!"

"I assure you, babe, acrasia is a word." He affirmed with a grin.

I glowered at him, before turning my gaze back to the board between us.

After laying on the couch in the early light of dawn for over an hour, we made our way back to his bedroom. Here, we lay in each others arms, falling asleep to the sound of each others breathing. It was the first time since my homecoming that we didn't have sex the moment we hit the sheets, and I found myself grinning. I knew he wanted to, since he always seemed to want to. But it would seem he was holding back, learning to better judge our climate and gain understanding of when it was or was not appropriate to grope your girlfriend.

After a fight over another man featured in a dream and then punching a hole in your wall, was not a time which endeared me to sexual activity.

We slept until well after noon, and when I awoke, I found Harry nowhere to be found. On his pillow was a note, written in his loopy scrawl, telling me he had gone for a run and could bring back food. He also asked, or demanded, that I stay naked until his return.

I spent this time having a long, leisurely shower, before pulling on one of his t-shirts and browsing the books in his room. The titles he kept were varied, and I had no sense of which genres he liked. There were classics, foreign language, modern and even Fifty Shades of Grey. His tastes seemed to be eclectic and wide, and as my finger trailed along the spines of those on the large bookshelf in his room, I found myself picturing him laying on his bed, his eyes focused as he lost himself in fiction and history.

Last night had been difficult, and not one I cared to face again. I knew keeping the incident with Neil from Harry was not necessarily the fairest choice, but it was also one that proved my initial appraisal of the situation to be true. I knew he would lose it, and of course, he did. His reaction was way beyond anything I expected of him, and admittedly, he scared me. He seemed so enraged by the thought of Neil pursuing me, it made me terrified to think what would happen if the two ever met. I knew that would never happen, as I myself had no intention on ever seeing Neil again either, but the thought still worried me. Harry was not known for keeping his temper, and last night proved that.

But what surprised me, as I lay in bed for over an hour shocked that he had actually walked out after his explosion, was when I finally got the nerve to go to him, I found him just as pensive as I had been. I almost expected to find him still pacing, ranting and angry when I stepped out into the living room. What I found, was a repentant man who seemed terrified of what he had done. He genuinely seemed nervous of how I saw him, of what I thought of him. He still questioned why I was with him, which bothered me to the core.

I knew he blamed himself for fighting with his parents before their accident. All teenagers fought with their parents, ignorant to the possibility that they may not be there the following day. We rarely thought of what we did or said, until sometimes, it was too late. I knew he wished he could go back and change things, and that he had locked himself away in an attempt to stop from being hurt or losing anyone again. I knew it was all a twisted form of self protection, but the only person it hurt was himself.

Now, with me, he was learning all over again. He was learning to communicate, how to be open and honest. He was learning how to gage the first real relationship he had had, maybe ever, and learn how to control his anger and temper. Everything was new to him, as well as the fact that I loved him. He seemed genuinely surprised at the fact, and I still couldn't understand how he saw himself as so unworthy. He was smart, challenging, engaging. He was perfect, but I knew that was probably because I loved him. No one was perfect, until you fell in love with them.