Guns & Roses (Larry Stylinson)

Foreign Feelings

Hello everybody!

Thank you all for being patient while I took some time to myself. I am still feeling pretty anxious and terribly sad, but I can't survive without writing. Writing is the thing that I love most, besides music, so I will continue to write, but I will pace myself when I need to, so some updates and stories may come slower than others. Thank you for understanding.

This chapter is a slower one with some big revelations, but the next chapter and the chapter after will really pick things up.

All the love, and enjoy!

Chapter 28:

    I felt something warm beside me as I woke up, my eyes squinting open as the sunlight streamed through the living room window. I was still on the sofa, and I turned to see Harry cramped up beside me, his arm resting around my waist as my arm was crushed under his neck, slowly going numb, and my hand was resting on his shoulder.

   I didn't remember falling asleep. I didn't remember anything apart from breaking down in Harry's arms. He was probably the first person I have ever cried in front of since my mum's death. He was the only person who brought out such weakness and emotional distress within me. He brought it all to the surface because something inside of me seemed to trust him enough to be vulnerable in his presence. It was like he wasn't just another wolf waiting to pounce at me. He was, instead, a life preserver floating out in the ocean, willing to sink a little bit in order to support my weight and save me from the treacherous depths of the waves.

  But it wasn't right. I shouldn't ever let my guard down.

  Ever so slowly, I freed my arm from where it was trapped underneath Harry, gently lifting his arm from my waist and setting it back down onto the leather of the sofa. I was deeply ashamed of the way I acted in front of Harry last night, but as I looked down at his sleeping figure, all of those thoughts of shame and weakness escaped my mind. Instead, I thought of what he said about his feelings of depression and loneliness.

   I looked down at him, seeing him looking so relaxed and at peace, and I thought of the tear that dripped down his cheek that night on the porch. It was a silent cry for help, him at his lowest moment, and he still looked beautifully captivating then.

   I shook my head, trying to rid these thoughts from my mind, and I walked to my bedroom, digging through my nightstand and pulling out my gun. I had to get out of here for a moment and clear my mind, and going shooting always seemed to help me pause and think.

   I grabbed my bag of ammo before rushing back to the living room and out of the front door, climbing into my car and not even thinking about waking Harry or leaving him some sort of note. I just had to get away from him and all of these confusing feelings. I wasn't supposed to feel. Not like this.

  I drove quickly down the main street, whipping passed the buildings that I was beginning to become a little too familiar with, and leaving town to head to the same place in the forest that Harry showed me to the first time. 

  I parked on the grass on the side of the road when I got there, and then I walked out into the same spot in the woods where we first shot at the trees. I walked over to the tree that Harry managed to nick the first time he tried to shoot, and I think I knew too well who he was imagining in that spot. Even if he didn't say anything, there was only one person I knew who hurt him beyond compare.

   I backed away from the tree and dropped my bag on the ground, unzipping it so that I would have access to more ammo when I needed it. I knew that I shouldn't waste too much just in case, but I had to get all of my frustrations out. I had to clear my thoughts from the night before because nothing made sense anymore.