red herring [h.s.]

42.

Stella.

"How long have you been up?" A yawning Mike asked as he came down the stairs. Surprisingly – for once – he was up before noon. In fact, it was hardly nine in the morning when he walked down in his boxers and a much too tight shirt. His scruffy brown hair was pointing in all directions as he held in front of his mouth to stifle his yawns.

Mike and Dominic honestly both looked eighteen. I had no idea how they were actually my age. They looked like these teen boys in their puberty.

"Not too long." I lied, under my blanket on the couch with my laptop perched up on my knees. Mike hummed something as he walked into the kitchen, "Wow, you made coffee?"

"Well, yeah." I shrugged and I heard him pouring himself a cup, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." I muttered as I tried to focus on the words on my screen, "How come you're up so early?"

"Dom's snoring like crazy." He sighed as he sat down next to me on the couch, nearly on my foot. I shot him a slightly irritated look that he was up in my space so much. He popped his dirty foot up on the coffee table and I wrinkled up my nose at his frat boy behaviour. I scooted to the left a little while clearing my throat, "Right."

Mike's eyes then glanced to Miss Shark who was next to me on the couch, and he let out a sharp breath, "Slept on the couch again, did you? We should lock your door at night."

I pressed my lips together and shrugged, "I'd find a way out."

"What's the big deal? Didn't Harry give you the bed? Does he snore too?" He asked in confusion as to why I would give up a king sized bed to sleep on this old couch. I kept my eyes on my screen while shrugging again, "It's not that. It's..." I let out a sight, "You wouldn't understand."

"Well shit, I hope Harry noticed and got into the bed for a bit. He's been even more miserable than usual." Mike complained, "You know you're not allowed to be without supervision, right? Ever?"

"I know." I muttered with a small eye roll.

"Mind if I watch tv?" Mike asked as he reached for the remote. I arched up an eyebrow, "It's nine in the morning?"

"So? They play the Simpsons at this hour."

I exhaled a breath, "Yeah, okay. I'll go sit at the kitchen table."

"What're you doing anyway?"

"Writing."

It was his turn to roll his eyes, "I can see that. But what're you writing?"

"Not sure." I dismissed before shooting him a small, polite smile and wrapping the blanket around me to sit at the kitchen table. At least that way, I wouldn't be constantly distracted by the sound of the television. I couldn't go up to the room to lock myself in and write, Harry was still in there.

I wasn't an impatient person, but this housing situation was starting to bother even me. Especially after Harry and I talked last night. Well, talked... I hardly remembered anything if I was honest. With a stuffed up nose from all the crying, blurry eyes and a pounding heart, it wasn't easy to still hear him.

Him touching me felt like the opposite of what it usually felt like. It used to calm me down while at the same time ignite some kind of a fire within me. Now, Harry's touch just felt like pain. Everything felt like pain.

Him saying he loved me felt like pain. I was too blinded by it to properly listen to him. And even if I did listen, I was too blinded to try and understand it or register it. They were all just empty words to me. I could see the hurt in his eyes when I said there was no chance for us anymore, but I honestly wasn't sure what he was expecting of me.