full throttle || h.s. ||

sixty-five || we meet again

the song for this chapter is "My Way," by Frank Sinatra :)

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Finley

   After the life-threatening chase and the disturbing text messages, we drove back to Leonardo's house. It was a little closer than Harry's place, and we figured that the less time spent on the road in a vehicle with shattered windows and bullet holes...the better.

   Everyone was still shaken up when we arrived at the house, and instead of panicking with fear, there was instead a sort of numbness that seemed to loom over us like a cloud, hanging over each of our heads no matter how hard we tried to step out from under it.

   We looked like a group of zombies as we walked into Leonardo's house, each of us splitting off in different directions to find shelter in one of the many bedrooms the house held, unable to utter so much as a simple goodnight.

   Harry and I trailed after one another up the staircase and to the same room we had found ourselves in the night of Leo's party, which seemed like ages ago after everything else that had been happening in our lives.

   I felt so out of it that I hadn't even realized I had sat down on the side of the bed until Harry sat next to me, the movement causing my mind to snap back into the present moment and my senses to become aware of what was happening.

   I looked over at him, only to find him with his elbows against the tops of his thighs, head resting in a defeated manner against his open palms.

   Neither of us had bothered to even turn on a light upon entering the room, the only visibility being provided by the light of the moon streaming in from the large windows, casting an eerie yet hallowed shadow upon everything within these four walls, including us.

   This room seemed so big the first time I was in it, but in this light, and under the effects of our circumstances, it felt suffocatingly small. 

   I felt like I needed to say something, and so, I opened my mouth. But as soon as I did so, I realized that my mind could hardly function right now, let alone form a coherent sentence, and so, instead of offering up some comforting words like I had planned to do, all I was able to do was release a deep sigh.

   "I don't know what to say either," Harry suddenly mumbled into his hands, the sudden noise in the quiet room causing my heart to beat a little faster.

   But despite his claims to have no idea what to say, he suddenly sat up, placing his hands on his knees and looking at me.

   "Actually, I do. I need to say that I'm sorry," he breathed out. His eyes looked so tired in the moonlight.

   I wonder what it was about the moon that always prompted us to say the things we kept lodged in the back of our minds. Perhaps the pearlescent light could somehow infiltrate the darkest corners of ourselves and reveal the things we didn't know were there. Perhaps there was just something about it that made you want to open up. 

   Or maybe, just maybe, at least in our case, it wasn't the moon at all, but the person we saw in it. The person who we said hello to in the late hours of the night with our backs pressed against the cool asphalt. Whoever it was, whatever impact they had upon Harry's life, I couldn't shake the feeling that they were watching over us, urging us to say the things that far too many people suppressed, and that far too many people regretted keeping to themselves.