two | h.s. - t.c.

61

Timothée's pov

if i said i wasn't thinking about jenny and harry, i'd be lying.

and damn, does it annoy me that i'm admitting it to myself. i'm getting somewhere though, right? i'm not denying the obvious to make myself feel better. this time.

but who cares. who cares if i'm jealous, i'm allowed to feel this way. i'm allowed to feel however i want, because there aren't any rules. being jealous isn't a crime.

i was exhausted, and though i was laying in a comfortable bed, i couldn't fucking sleep because my mind wouldn't shut up. the definition of self sabotage.

fuck them. you're tired, go to sleep. i'd say in my mind.

she's with him instead of you. don't act like it doesn't bother you, idiot. the little voice in my head would reply.

just shut up, i'm tired. i'd say back, tossing and turning.

no amount of sleep'll hide the fact that they're outside somewhere having fun together. the voice would say back.

i fully sat up with a sigh, annoyed that the voice was right. i was right, because those were my own opinions. it began to rain. even the sky knew i was lying to myself.

i shoved the sheets away, getting up. my eyes were burning as i made myself a coffee, spilling some in the process which made me even more annoyed.

i slid open the curtains and set the mug down onto the windowsill, looking down at the view. it was raining hard now, and i almost felt happy.

good, i hope this ruins their day.

stop it.

i shook my head and leaned my elbows against the windowsill, taking a slow sip. the hot coffee burned my tongue regardless, and i set it down with care, knowing i was pissed enough to just impulsively slam it.

i could get high, i thought, and let my mind relax. or i could take a sleeping pill, and fall right asleep, skipping whatever this was.

but that wouldn't really advocate the whole "self improvement" thing i'm trying to do now, would it. no substances, no excuses. i can deal with my emotions, because shocker, i have those.

i watched the rain fall as i drank my coffee, because that was good enough for me. small things were good enough for me.

the more i stared out the window, the more i questioned how harry felt when he saw jenny and i together. did he feel jealous too? or am i just getting a bit to possessive now?

me, possessive.
oh, fuck off.

Jenny's pov

it seemed like right when i closed my eyes, faint knocks hit my door. half of my brain thought i was hearing things, but the other stronger half made me shoot up from bed.

i was tired but not yet drowsy, though my mind thought something bad had happened, hence the knocking at—what time is it? i walked back and checked the clock—four in the morning.

timothée stood in front of me, swinging his arms together as he stared at the floor. he quickly looked at me as soon as i opened the door.

he had one of the hotel pens in his hand, clicking it open. i blinked and moved aside for him to come in. he leaned in close to my face as he stepped in and walked past me. when we sat on my bed, he took my hand and began to doodle on it.