Eyes Bright, Uptight {EDITING}

//finale//

YOU GUYS. I cannot believe this story is finished. I cannot believe the friends I have made on here, whom I seriously treasure like little fucking diamonds and pearls. Please enjoy this, I am ridiculously emotional right now. I have included a preview of my next story, which is a sequel-of-sorts to this story. xoxoxo

{Harper's POV}

After about two minutes of Matty not answering the door, I knew something was wrong. I was panicking, banging on the door as hard as I could, all with no avail.

Now, in this waiting room, I still had no answer; merely a throbbing pain in my wrist, and the ache of the  punch to the gut that hit me when George finally kicked the door in, and we saw Matty lying there.

It looked almost like he was sleeping at first, his hair wild and flowing onto the couch, pretty mouth parted, face peaceful. It was when I shook him and he didn't wake that George started screaming Matty's name, shaking his little limp body, big hands trembling as he tried to check for a pulse.

I had dialed the paramedics, and George had found a weak little thump at Matty's jugular.

I suppose I was terrified for a while, and then, when that ate everything away, I was numb. There weren't really words for how I felt. And if there were, I didn't know them.

There was no use crying.

No use screaming.

Claire had already done enough of that for everyone here.

After they wheeled Matty into the emergency room, Claire had lost her fucking mind, if she ever had one to begin with. I didn't know who to feel worse for: Claire, who was screaming and crying and flailing her limbs everywhere, her words incoherent through her sobs but I think she was saying "LetmegoGeorgeLetmegoGeorge"; or George, who was somber and quiet and had her body all wrapped up in his, his voice low, repeating "Stop, kid" with each of her screams. He looked like he was hurting just as much as she was.

George was a smart person. He knew everything about computers and equipment and could recite musical trivia for hours. Claire was apparently intelligent too, probably from her days at all all-girls boarding school for the virgin children of wealthy WASPs she had went to or some stupid shit. I'm exagerrating (maybe) but I digress.

Both of them thought they knew Matty so well. They had no idea how bad he was, how bad he had always been. The truth is, Matty becomes addicted to everything that he discovers. He falls in love with everything, all at once, and can't distinguish between what is good for him, and what is bad for him. More importantly, Matty also doesn't understand that he is bad for other people.

I sat on the beige, barely padded chair of the waiting room, my hair and clothes still soaked with rain but beginning to dry a little, watching George and Claire. George was knelt in front of her, one of his hands taking one of hers, his other hand smoothing her usually perfect hair behind her ear.

No one would ever love me the way that George loves Claire.

That was fine, though. I wouldn't know what to do with that kind of love anyways.

I suppose I never realized how pretty Claire's face was until now, when she was sad, broken. Her eyes were this hurricane of green and brown, her eyebrows perfect, her bone structure something out of old Hollywood, her lips always soft and pouty. Her body was big and small in all the right places, breasts that heaved against the fabric of her dress, little bubble butt, wide hips, tiny little waist.

Claire was perfect, and Matty had absolutely ruined her, whether or not he intended to. He was so irresponsbile and selfish. Why couldn't he have let George have her? George would have taken good care of her, worshipped her, never hurt her fucking feelings.