Mocked: A Marcel Fanfic

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

"I want you to name the first thing that comes to your mind when I give you a word," Veronica says, staring out ahead of her. We're back on the beach again, only this time we're seated on a bench, our feet buried in the sand.

"Alright, I can play this game." I do know a lot of words. This can't be too difficult.

Veronica nods. "Spit."

"Disgusting," I say immediately.

"Ordinary."

"Safe."

"Protection."

"Shield."

"Pool."

"Chloride."

Veronica suddenly sighs even though I find myself having a lot of fun with this game. "What's wrong?" I ask her, afraid I might be playing wrong, but surely she'd let me know if I was.

"Nothing, it's just...you're so..," she sighs and looks at me frustrated. "Boring."

Boring? Oh. "I...I'm just trying to name things that match the word. I've never played and I just-"

"You're doing that annoying rambling thing again," she clucks her tongue at me and I shut up. "Look Harry, the point of this whole thing is to be able to say the first thing that comes to your mind-"

"But that is the first thing that comes to my mind!" 

Veronica glares at me to shut up and I do. I don't want to ruin whatever good fun we're having here right now. I can't stop smiling and for once I'm not ashamed in letting someone see I'm happy. For the longest time, whenever I was happy it was just a reason for someone to beat me up and call me names. It seemed like I was just constantly supposed to stay upset or unhappy with the world. But this is different and I can't help but like it.

"How am i supposed to answer? Those are the first things that come to my mind," i say, bending down to untie my dress shoes. I kick them off then put them on the bench beside me. I remove my socks as well and then stick my bare feet in the sand. It's surprisingly cool. 

"I'll demonstrate for you. Give me words." Veronica shifts on the bench and brings her feet up, crossing them as she faces me. She grins widely, a challenge in her eyes. 

"Alright," I say and think of a random word that would be good to give her. I think about the air that's blowing around us. "Blow."

Veronica suddenly starts cackling with laughter, her eyes wide at the word I had given her. I don't get it. I watch her laugh for a good couple solid minutes until she stops, her arms around her stomach and tears streaming down her face.

"What?" I ask embarassed. 

"Do you even understand the word you gave me?" She dabs at the tears and I just stare at her confused.

"Blow, it means to move creating an air current, or to be carried, driven, or moved by the wind or air current. It can also mean to expel air through pursed lips. And-." Veronica holds her hand up for me to stop and I quiet down.

"Jeeze do you memorize the dictionary or what? No, what was funny is that you gave me the term blow and obviously the first word that comes to my head is 'job.'" She starts laughing again and I feel my face flush. How could I be so stupid? I had heard that term before. 

"I'm sorry I offended you. I just thought about the wind blowing around us and that was the first word that came to me. I didn't mean to..." I look down ashamed. I'm such an embarassment. I'm just so stupid and terrible and company. 

Veronica suddenly tips my head back up, making me look at her. I feel my heart beat faster at her touch. I swear I can feel tingles going down my entire spine just at her soft touch. The sunset beyond us, the beach beneath us, and this space between us. It all just fades away as she stares at me. 

She reaches up slowly and takes off my glasses, her eyes searching mine. For some reason, without my glasses, I feel exposed. Everything beyond Veronica blurs and that scares me, because for a couple minutes of my life, I don't know what's ahead of me. 

"Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror with your glasses off?" She asks quietly, her hands lowering down to her lap, my glasses still in her hands. I blink a couple times to adjust to the light. 

"No," I say. I really don't recall ever looking at myself in a mirror without my glasses on. They've always been there. 

She smiles at me, so gently that I think her lips are as precious as a rose blossoming in the sunlight. It's weird to think that her lips kiss the tips of cigarettes. I learned a long time ago that cigarettes do nasty things to  your mouth and body. Why was she still perfect? 

Perfect. I just called her perfect. 

"I'm going to mess up your hair, okay? Take it out of that ridiculous gelled hairdo that you've got." I don't know why she finds the need to ask me for permission but I allow it. I'd allow her to do anything really, if she would just stay with me. 

Veronica's hand reach up and comb through my hair, pushing it out of formation. It takes her a couple minutes but when she's done she smiles. A couple strands fall across my forehead and into my eye. I give my head a good shake that I always see other guys do. It feels weird. 

"There," she whispers in awe. "You look amazing." 

And in that moment, I wish I had something to look at myself with. To have a way to see the Harry Styles that she's looking at with such kind eyes. I want to see the me that she sees that no one else does. And I want, more than anything, to know  if I look good enough in her eyes. 

I look down, the thoughts of rejection hitting me so hard that I can't stand to look at her anymore. This isn't really me. I'm not this Harry that sits at a beach with a girl and has his glasses removed. I'm the Harry that hides under my bed covers with comics that I'm not supposed to have and gummy candies that I'm not allowed to eat. 

"May I have my glasses please?" I ask her quietly. The lack of shield on my face makes me feel scared. Small. Like a little boy. 

Pathetic.

"What are you afraid of?" Veronica asks, keeping my glasses from me still. I stare down at the space between us, not wanting to see the way she watches me. 

What am I afraid of? So many answers flood my mind. Rejection. Loss. Losing. People. I've got a really bad anxiety fear of people and what they are capable of. So I tell her my biggest fear. "I'm afraid of being hurt." The honesty makes me feel weaker than I already am. 

"Afraid of being hurt," she repeats, turning out to look across the beach. "Everyone's afraid of that one, Harry. It's not just you." 

"Yes, but I'm hurt every day. Physically. Mentally. Any and every possible way out there, I'm hurt by it." I turn and face out as well. relieved that I don't have to focus on her, Without my glasses, the entire beach blends to a blue and grey mess. I look down at my feet and kick the sand. "Everyone hurts me sooner or later." 

Veronica doesn't say anything against this. Instead she stands up, hands me my glasses, and says she's going back to the car. I put back on my glasses, everything becoming suddenly too clear, grab my shoes and follow her. I don't know why she always finds the need to walk away or why she doesn't address my statements, but I feel content with having her not ask questions. I can deal with silence. I can't deal with someone wanting to know why I'm silent. 

"Do you want me to take you home?" I ask her once we're in my car and the engine is on. 

"No, take me to Aiden's," she says. "He's having a party." 

"Oh, okay," I mutter and start driving. 

"And you're coming with me." 

My foot slams down on the brake. "I'm what?!" I exclaim. This cannot be good.