Magnolia in May [H.S]

Part fifty-nine

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———

"Baby, do you understand me now?"
"Sometimes I feel a little mad."

"But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good."

"Oh, lord, please don't let me be misunderstood."

-- -

Harry

The sun had exhaustively sunken past the horizon, long gone to rise upon the other side of the world. Now, previously hidden stars made their appearances. Glistening and glittering luminescent in the broad night's sky, in a way that was incomprehensive to my tired eyes.

Rushes of air hit against my skin as I pull out of the parking garage, placing my needy hand on the passenger's seat to reverse. The only way to describe the smell of the air through the open windows was fresh, invigorating. Waking up from a good nap, not the kind that makes you feel like you've transported to an alternate universe.

I smile to myself with the admiring of Meg, who looked like the human embodiment of sex appeal beside me. Staring every so often at me, from side-glances it was enough to awaken lust. Even with the nonexistent sun, my shades were covering my eyes, the bugging of my curls flying around in the cascading wind. The inclusion of my shades was solely because I was disastrously hungover. It was suitable after I drank myself into a stupor last night, drowning my problems in a bottle of tequila. When Meg told me she was staying at Indie's, I wound up leeching to the glass. I hated drinking as much as I hated myself right now. The guilt suffocated me through the stumbling sting of liquor.

It was stupid and childish drinking nearly to the point of alcohol poisoning, I knew that. And that if Meg found out about it she'd be a clashed mixture of pissed and concerned. But she wasn't going to find out about it. I made certain of keeping my pathetic alcoholic-like actions between my guilty conscience and Niall. Trying to uphold the act of my energetic-sassy self today to sell the fact. It was getting increasingly more hard as the night went on, my body felt like actual shit, my eyes were struggling with the lights.

Spontaneously serving the idea of running away for the weekend was a symptom of my guilt. Because I knew after this there was a huge chance things would change. That I'd have to tell her about my lies, that practically sold my soul to the devil now. This was an excuse to enjoy it all a little longer— be the boy in heedless love— unrequited, with the other person clueless of his feelings. At this point, I didn't think she'd ever understood what she'd done for me.

It was written in the stars, I'd go as far as to say a thing of fate. I wished I could shout it, Magnolia Louisa Finnely I love you. Though I knew, in the end, me expressing that would make things more complicated. I wasn't going to put her in that position.  

I found it almost funny that she gave me a leather jacket as if she subconsciously knew it would be a staple of my wardrobe now. I didn't feel real, or like the life, I was living. Selling drugs here and there wasn't nearly as insane as this, and I said yes. So I had obviously lost all of my wits. Like what the fuck is the reality?

Clearly, the one where I decided to join my absentee father's biker gang. Fuck me.

I wasn't going to think about that right now- not with her in my presence. Better off avoiding it like all of the other dilemmas I created myself.