Moon Tower

39

this chapter has been edited and updated. enjoy!xx

"I'm not?" He asked, a kernel of hope in his voice.

"No," I sighed, biting my nail. "No, you're not. Maybe if you'd asked me a couple days ago, but now? Now, I think I just want to feel good again."

Part of our problems stemmed from not saying how we were feeling when it mattered most. If things between us were going to improve, we had to be one hundred percent transparent. I could only hope Harry thought the same.

***

harry

It took everything in me not to race across the campus to wherever Luz was. Her voice on the phone sounded steady, even as she told me, I just want to feel good again. But she also sounded tired, like feeling good didn't necessarily mean fixing things, like she'd given up on us. I knew that this was it, that if I didn't tread carefully I could lose her forever.

"Listen, why-why don't you come over to my place? We can talk about... everything." I hated that I sounded so unsure, but I truly didn't know what the future held for the both of us.

The last few weeks had been absolute torture, and it had been my own doing. But there was also a part of me that was still hurt by the distance she'd put between us, even if she had been doing it to surprise me. I remember her calling the night of the interview with Howard Stern, the night I told her I needed her and she said she couldn't come. It felt like I had been hit with blow after blow after blow, and to protect myself from getting hit again, I put up a wall so high, I couldn't even see Luz anymore. And the less we talked, the more irritated I became, and instead of confronting her like a mature adult, I started throwing out wild accusations, hoping I could get something from her. At times it felt like I was the only one who felt as deeply as I did, the way she was always so calm and collected. Hearing her steady voice the last time we'd spoken infuriated me, and I kept pushing and pushing to get some kind of reaction. I'd gotten one alright, only it cost me a lot more than an angry exchange of words.

I was irritable on the road, like there was a thorn poking me but I couldn't figure out where it was or how to get rid of it. I wasn't sleeping, these awful nightmares keeping me awake, so I eventually just stopped trying. Luz noticed, because of course she did, but every time she asked me about it I felt conflicted. Part of me wanted to tell her, to lean on her, and the other told me she didn't deserve to know, that she wasn't here to make any of it better anyway. So, I lied. I told her I was fine and it was just me adjusting to the tour. Luz saw through it, but never questioned it, moving onto the next thing. The only time I seemed to feel good, more than good even, was onstage. Performing in a new city, in a different country, helped me to forget about all the shit that was swirling around in my head, and the adrenaline from the shows were enough to keep me awake through the night, and when I did fall asleep for a short period of time, I was too tired to dream.

And then there was Paris.

I didn't expect Camille to be at my concert in France, but there she was, waiting for me backstage. She wasn't necessarily who I wanted waiting for me when I finished performing, but she was there, and she was kind, and her voice was gentle, and she was rubbing soft circles into my shoulder. I felt like I could breathe again. I wasn't thinking about Luz and the way we were both too stubborn and proud to pick up the phone and call each other; I wasn't thinking about all the horrible shit that got dredged up from that stupid interview; I wasn't thinking at all, and it was so nice.

But then she called me baby, and suddenly her hand didn't feel comforting anymore, her smile looked sickly sweet, and she wasn't what I wanted. She wasn't Luz. I went back to the hotel that night in a daze, feeling guilty and angry and frustrated. With myself, with Luz, with everyone around me. Mitch pounded on my door the next morning, and I answered him tired and hungover.