Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

020

Bree Tyler

I stretched on the couch waking my body up from my restless sleep, Harry let's me sleep on the couch now rather than the cold and dark basement.

I was in my new clothes Harry had just bought for me yesterday when we went to the store. I was wearing one of the sweatpants I got and just a random shirt, they both hugged my figure tightly.

I hopped off of the couch, I was bored so I was going to go talk to Harry, if he was awake in that case.

I walked up the spiral staircase, reaching Harrys bedroom.

I opened the door lightly, seeing him on the balcony. I expected him to be doing cocaine, but it was the complete opposite of white narcotic lines.

He was blowing bubbles.

I walked behind him, he was sending the soapy spheres into the cold morning air.

"Can I try?" I asked Harry with a smile, standing beside him, referring to blow a bubble.

He nodded, handing me the wand that he dipped in the soap. I pursed my lips just above the bubble wand and blew multiple bubbles into the chilly sky. I chuckled slightly; handing the wand back to him.

He watched as the soap spheres flew around in the air, he was mesmerized once again. I can't believe he's never even heard of the term "bubbles" since last night. That was just astonishing to me. I've grown up loving bubbles.

But then of course, my endless wandering and curious mind had to ruin the moment.

"It's strange, you know? How different my childhood was from everyone else's."

Harrys words from last night rang in my head, and the sentence just wouldn't leave my mind. I could barely sleep on the couch last night, my back needed to crack from my tossing and turning over the his bone chilling sentence. But then again, it probably means nothing.

I just don't know how Harrys childhood could be different than everyone else's? He wasn't normal, that's a well-known fact.

The next thing I knew that broke my thoughts was something being shoved harshly into my mouth. I felt a stick with paper rest in my lips. A cigarette.

Harry handed me the black lighter with the light blue teardrop on it, I looked at him, he had a cigarette in his mouth as well. I lit his cigarette for him as I always do, then, he took the lighter out of my hand and lit my cigarette that loosely  hung in my mouth.

The bubble wand was rested on the railing of the balcony; it was no longer in his hands.

"Harry?" I muttered through my cigarette.

"Yeah?" He responded, gray smoke flowing out of his lips as he spoke.

"When we finish smoking, can I take the bandage wrap off of my neck? My wound is getting better." I asked him. The bandaging was starting to get highly uncomfortable and tight around my throat.

"Sure." He said, his British accent sounding thick and rolling off of his tongue.

I chuckled, inhaling the smoke of the cigarette once more.

When I thought about it, in some twisted way, cigarettes and bubbles were almost the same thing.

Bubbles. You put the wand by your mouth and blow, sending the floating clear spheres into the air.

Cigarettes. You put them by your mouth and suck on them inhaling the toxins, sending gray smoke into the cold atmosphere .

And, me and Harry both blew cigarettes and bubbles as we were standing on the balcony.