Thursday Nights | ✓

TEN | 7/9/15

TEN | 7/9/15

H A R R I S O N

THE LAST THING I want to do tonight is sit in the same room with my family and some of their business associates, pretending that everything's fucking dandy. Well, it's honestly not. I glare at my hands, neatly folded on my dress pants, wondering why the hell I'm going through with this.

I look up, feeling as if all the eyes in the dining room are watching me, prying through my thoughts. I clench my jaw in annoyance before picking at my food once again.

"Harrison," a woman -- whose name I didn't bother to remember -- addresses me, "what do you plan on doing in the near future?"

Why is small talk so important? Just make the goddamn deal and leave.

I clear my throat, "I, uh, plan on becoming a psychologist."

She clicks her tongue in disapproval, and I feel a surge of anger run through my veins. Is psychology not good enough for her? I open my mouth to reiterate my thoughts, but Lucas kicks my leg under the table as a warning.

"Why don't you follow your parents' footsteps?" a man asks, "Nathaniel is doing a mighty fine job in this field."

"Psychology is just fine," I evenly say, "I'm not interested in business."

"Such a shame," the man sighs, and the others agree with him.

My chair topples over with a crash once I abruptly stand up. Now, all the eyes are really on me. Fine, let them watch.

"There are better things to do, better places to be, and better people to see," I mutter, ignoring the way my mother and father especially stare at me, "Have a great fucking night."

I calmly exit the room, hearing a collective gasp from behind me. I go to my room and lock the door, letting out a relieved sigh. Feeling strangled, I pry off my clothes and pull on a white t-shirt and pair of black jeans. I run my fingers through my hair, messing it up from being combed.

I consider going outside through the front door or the window, and I choose the latter. This way, no one will stop me and ask questions and force me to stay. That's not going to happen, not tonight, not ever.

I slide open my window and clumsily crouch on the sill, remembering the time I actually jumped out of it. Thankfully, I made it to the ground with only a couple scratches and bruises. However, I became more experienced over time and installed a rope ladder. Insane, I know.

I drop my backpack to the ground, not bothering to carry it with me, and start to climb down the ladder. I land on my feet with a thud, pick up my backpack, and throw it over my shoulder. At this point, I would find a way to let out my anger, but now, I just feel tired.

However, there is a destination on my mind -- Arden's house.

•••

ARDEN'S FRONT DOOR is open, which I find surprising for some reason. I'm about to knock on the glass screen door, but something -- more like someone -- catches my eye. It's Arden herself, and she's full out jamming.

She's wearing fuzzy socks, a baggy Batman t-shirt, and a pair of shorts. She's twirling around the couches, singing along to some Taylor Swift song, and I can't help but find her absolutely adorable. As I watch Arden, I feel a laugh bubbling up inside of me, fighting off the bad mood I was feeling earlier.

I then sharply knock on the door, causing Arden to yelp in surprise. When she realizes it's me, she hurriedly comes to the door and unlocks it.

After Arden lets me inside, the first thing she says to me is, "Did you see all that?"

I grin, "Yeah."

Arden groans and covers her face with her hands, "Just to let you know, I'm internally dying of embarrassment right now."

"Oh, so you're not externally dying of embarrassment?" I ask, another smile slipping onto my face.

She shoves my shoulder, "You suck."

I sit down on one of her couches and place my backpack by my feet, telling her, "I snuck out of my window to come here."

A faint blush tinges Arden's cheeks, and I realize what I said could be mistaken as romantic. I don't correct myself, though, because what I said is true, and she looks absolutely beautiful when she blushes. She tucks a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear and looks up at me.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I echo, "I came here to see you, Arden. You're always able to make me feel better."

A look of concern washes over her face, "What happened?"

"I'm such a... disappointment. I honestly try, and it just doesn't work," I thickly swallow, "I can't even make other people outside of my family happy."

"Like who?"

I explain to her what happened before and let out all of my frustrations, "It's like all my personal dreams and aspirations are a joke to other people. I'm just not good enough."

Arden remains silent for a few moments before saying, "People have the right to their own opinion, but you have the right to ignore it, Harrison. I know it's not as easy as it sounds, but they can't pull the trigger if you don't give them the gun."

My words are stuck in my throat as I stare at her with wide eyes. Everytime I have something bothering me, she always has a way to fix it. I always feel bad for dumping all my problems on her, but she's my muse.

"Harrison?"

"Yeah?"

"And don't say that you can't make other people happy," she says, "because you're able to make me happy."

I instinctively move forward and wrap my arms around her slim frame. I bury my head in her hair and just hold her close. I slightly pull back and look at her raw beauty. Then, I kiss her cheek.

"Thank you so much for being in my life, Arden. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you."

______________________

I SHIP ARDISON SO, SO, SO MUCH. THEY HAVE THAT KIND OF RELATIONSHIP WHERE THEY HELP EACH OTHER OUT.

LIKE IT'S ALWAYS IMPORTANT TO BUILD THAT KIND OF TRUST WHERE YOU CAN TELL THAT SIGNIFICANT OTHER ANYTHING.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED HARRISON'S P.O.V. THERE SHOULD BE ONE EVERY TEN CHAPTERS.

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--islandarc