Magnolia in May [H.S]

Part eighty-two

"Take my love, take it down."

"The landslide bring it down."

Harry

-- -

A thunderous pound concerts the walls of my head, an ever-consistent hail storm. Overfilled thought-process, drips continued to cascade their way down. A tiresome consistent flood.

Cold metal sinks under me. Stiff and just as discomforting as the symphony playing out in the heap of my forehead. My whole face aches, the soreness shifted heavily into a hot sting as more time prevailed. Sitting on this bench, thick metal bars aiding the AC's airflow right into the tender skin. I can take a hit- and I have many times over. But something about the bruising of my jaw hurt more this time.

Who knew figure skaters packed a punch? I didn't.

In all honesty, I felt like shit. My temper got the best of me, it slipped right from my grasp. This was Meg's day and I had to go be a dick and ruin it all. My gut told me she was going to be beyond pissed at me for letting my anger take control of me.

It didn't even feel like a conscientious decision, the curling rage boiled inside of me. It exploded all throughout my limbs, growing outside of me. The champagne popped, and the bitter-tasting fountain wreaked its havoc. Crackling in bubbles as hazy aftermath. I blacked out. Completely, saw red and from that point, there was no stopping my temper.

Florian's mouth ran, and my fist curled. Next thing I knew I was being carried out of the rink, handcuffs cutting off my circulation while dozens of eyes glared into my back. That lousy sack of shit was out cold on the floor.

I felt her stare, even through the hundreds of other eyes. I knew she saw it all. Those precious honeyed eyes watching as I was escorted out, her body painted a masterpiece of emotion. And there I was.

I buried my throbbing face into the palms of my hands, grounding my breathing in advance to calm the crescendo of nerves, haunting my stomach. Each inhale boomed in the muscles of my face, pittering raucous in sync to the thump that resided. Still horribly high off the adrenaline, tapping feet, anxious curl fixing ticks. I couldn't stop the swarming guilt in such a quiet setting, bars in my line of vision that surfaced memories of a time I wanted to bury.

Oh, shut the fuck up. You did this to yourself. That time you want to 'bury', you unburied it perfectly on your own.

If my gran could look at me now, fuck.

-- -

Leather.

God, it reeked of liquor, bodies around me wore it like a cologne.

A dilated hazel stared back at me, hauntingly. Just a blink from those lashes sent shivers down my spine, it didn't feel right. Certainly, it was the percolate of anger inside my system, so much I couldn't handle the tremble of my hands.