The Old Tuck Shop

FORTY-THREE

I awoke before Poppy and sat at the end of the bed.

"Are you awake?" I whispered as she stirred.

"How long have you been up?" she stirred.

"Not long. Ten minutes, maybe. Are you awake?" I asked.

"No."

"Well, you need to wake up. I need to talk to you about last night," I said, brushing the hair from her face.

She turned to face the wall. "What about last night?"

"You came over last night. You were bawling your eyes out. And you didn't give me a good reason why," I answered, and she shoved a pillow over her head.

She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "What the hell, Finn? If I woke you up and blurted out something like that, you would kill me."

"Poppy, I need to know what's wrong," I said. I genuinely cared about her and didn't like seeing her like that.

"Nothing happened," she answered, bluntly.

I looked at her straight in the eyes. "Poppy. You came here in the pouring rain, with tears streaming down your face... and nothing happened?"

She nodded. "It was just a fluke. An accident... I never should've come here last night." She looked down at her feet, and then back at me. Her eyes were glistening.

"Why did you come here, Poppy?" I repeated.

"Why do you keep saying my name like that?" she asked, her voice was stern, and she lowered her eyebrows.

"Like what?-"

"Like you're using it against me," she interrupted. Her voice was much harsher.

I sighed. "Poppy, I just need to know if everything is alright."

"Everything is fine," she replied, gritting her teeth.

"Is it about your brother? Did he say anything?" I asked.

"Why are you dragging Reuben into this?" she replied, running her hands through her hair.

"Um... maybe because he hates me?" I threw my arms in the air.

"What? No," she said. "Everything is fine with that."

"You made up?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Then is it your dad?" I asked. "Because he's the only person from your family I haven't met. And I might be aiming too high... but he probably hates me too."

"What the fuck," she snapped.

"Well it's true, isn't it?" I said, looking straight into her eyes.

"Is what true?" she hissed.

"He hates me," I answered, and she sighed.

"Oh, stop it!" she yelled.

"Stop what?" I yelled back.

"Stop with the sympathy act-"

"Sympathy act? You came here last night having a mental breakdown, and all I wanted to know is what happened.... we're supposed to be together, aren't we?" I snapped, and she looked down.

"You haven't told your parents, have you?" I scoffed.

"Well, you haven't told yours, have you? Oh, wait... I forgot. You can't." Her words came out harsh and sour, like venom from a snake.

I stared at her in disbelief, but her face didn't change. It stayed frozen. Her eyes were locked on mine. As sad as it is, she didn't regret a thing she said.

"Get the fuck out!" I demanded, and she grabbed her things and left. When I heard the front door slam and knew she was gone, I let myself break down.

First came the whimpers. They were soft, but brutal, and hurt the most. I could feel it hurt in my throat, and then in my chest. I held onto my neck; not only to silence my cries but to act as a barrier. Next came the tears. Loads, and loads of tears. They were fast and boiling. I blinked, and they all released, as if on cue. I felt my face go hot, and my blood boil. My heart beat faster, and faster, and faster until it physically hurt. I sat on the floor, wrapped my arms around my legs, and let the world around me cave in. Everything went black.