Desolate - h.s. ✓

° eleven °

     It was clear that my friends were absolutely shocked. My face was flushed when they started bombarding me with questions, but I swore nothing was happening. If anything, I was being a friend for him while my brother was being somewhat of an asshole. Of course they didn't believe me, but I ignored them for the most part. The rest of the night involved my friends asking about Harry, and why I had gone to him, but I promised it was nothing other than me being a good friend. However, the following days at lunch proved that Harry either really did hate me, or he had some sort of bipolar disorder. Not only did he spill something on me on Tuesday, but he ate all of my food when I went to the bathroom. It was overly rude, but there was nothing that I could have done about it. My friends even thought it was strange, but I just ignored it as much as I could, knowing that I didn't need to let Harry get to me.

- - -

     On Thursday, I went to the baseball game with my mother and father. My friends couldn't make it, although Robin and Anne both were in attendance. And, this time, before the game started, Gemma, Emily, and Noah were there. Per usual, Emily sat beside me, telling me all about her day at school. They had painted the alphabet, and I thought it was a cute idea. It was about half way through the game that Harry was pitching and he suddenly crouched on the mound, covering his head. The batter started screaming at him, the coach calling a time out. Ethan practically sprinted from the outfield, helping Harry off the field while the coach asked the other pitcher on the team to step in. He also had someone take over Ethan's position, Anne appearing upset when I glanced back at her. Without really thinking, I got up, my mother calling my name, but I headed straight for the dugout. Ethan appeared confused when I entered, the other boys saying I couldn't be here.

"Harry?"

He glanced up, and I could have sworn he looked relieved to see me. Ethan narrowed his eyebrows, Harry getting up. My chest ached when he grabbed my hand, taking me out of the dugout. We practically ran to the field house, the boy heading into the locker room and completely collapsing into my arms.

"Shh, shh."

"I can't. I can't handle it, Nicole. I just keep thinking about everything, and he's out. He's out, and could be anywhere, and I wouldn't know. It's so fucking scary, and I just can't. I can't. I can't."

He was sobbing against my chest, my back pressed against the wall. I took his hat off, playing with his hair in an attempt to calm him down. He still cried, and it honestly was the shittiest thing to experience. After all, I was used to Harry being an absolute asshole to me and anyone else. Now, here was this tough boy crying into my chest at the thought of his father being free from jail.

"Your niece and nephew are here," I told him quietly. "They came to watch their Uncle Harry play baseball, you know."

"Have I ever told you how much I love those two?" Harry asked quietly. "So much. They're the sweetest things, and I love them so much."

"Well, why don't you go pitch for them?" I asked gently. "You know, they'll cheer you on the whole time. They're probably wondering why their favorite Uncle isn't pitching."

He scoffed, grabbing his hat and putting it on. I watched as he got up, his hands grasping mine before he helped me up. I was surprised when he pulled me into a hug, the two of us standing there for a while. Though, Harry and I soon walked out of the field house, the curly-haired boy heading into the dugout when we passed it, while I made my way back into the stands.

"What was that about?" my mother asked.

"He's just going through something. It's okay."

"But why is he talking to you instead of Ethan about it then?"