prince in jeans

e l e v e n

"Oh, I shouldn't have said that," squeaked Lex as we sat in the kitchen about five minutes after her brother's departure. We'd heard the front door slam and then the car started and screeched as he pulled out of the driveway and sped away.

"Shh, it isn't your fault, Lex," I said, patting her hand. "But what did you...what did you mean by it?"

Lex heaved a sigh, playing with a ring around her thumb. "I guess I can tell you now since...since..." But all her anger had vaporised, leaving her quite down in the dumps.

"Harry was always getting into trouble," she started. "He was always breaking the rules. You know, 'rebellious age'. He was out after curfew, he got into fights, he drank, he smoked...All those kind of things." She paused to glance out the window. "My parents had tried their best to tame him but after a while, it began to take a toll on their relationship. They fought constantly. My father wanted to send him away, my mother refused. It became strained and I was just fourteen at the time. Harry was sixteen."

I listened, intently, tapping my fingers on the marble counter.

"Anyway, this went on until the summer of Harry's senior year. I was packed off to an aunt by the seaside and it was only when I came back that I found my parents were dead and Harry had taken up writing." Lex's face looked exhausted. "He took me in and he told me what had happened."

My friend took a deep breath. "My father had kicked Harry out of the house one night so Harry had gone to his friend's house to stay. He stayed there for a few days but then he began to feel home-sick and so he crept back. No one knew where he was going. He went to the bedroom window—our mother had been diagnosed with a paralysing sickness when I was five and so she couldn't move. He knew she'd be there—"

"Wait," I interjected, my stomach twisting in an unpleasant way. "This story sounds familiar."

"Oh," Lex said. "He's shown it to you then? The little black book with the white crescent?"

My blood ran cold. Jace...Harry...

Jace was Harry.

Harry was Jace.

Harry had brought his life into the book, the one he was writing, the one I'd read when I'd first visited here.

"Oh my god." My hands clutched at my hair. "Your dad...He was trying to kill your mum..."

"Yeah," replied Lex, miserably. "Harry hasn't written it all yet. He stopped at the part where he's talking to Mum, right? Well, I'll tell you from there."

"No," I got to my feet, trembling. "I...I don't want to hear it..."

"Celeste," Lex spoke gently. "If you want to...If you want to be with him, you have to know..."

Shakily, I resumed my seat but my heart was pounding.

"Jo—our mum—she convinced Harry to leave and Harry did. He climbed back out the window but he waited there, crouching, wanting to see how this would unfold. My father re-entered with his gun. 'Jo,' he said. 'I'm doing this for your own good. You're fatally sick and I can't see you in pain any longer.' My mother had scoffed. 'Peter, you're doing this for Harry. You don't care about me. As soon as I'm done and away with, you'll send him off somewhere, won't you?' Peter was shaking. 'I'm sorry, Jo.' And he raised his gun and shot her through the heart." Tears had gathered in Lex's eyes. "Imagine Harry when he saw this. He was raging. All he could see was—"

"Red," I finished, my head swirling.

"Red," Lex agreed. "He ran back into the room and punched my father. They fought and fought and in the midst of it, the gun went off, bullets burying themselves in the walls, in the floors. By the time Harry had wrestled the gun from Dad, there was only one bullet left. He spent it on our father." The tears were falling now, from both our eyes. "He got out of it somehow—I really don't know how. But everyone assumed our parents committed suicide, you know, together forever. I returned a week later and Harry told me everything. We promised never to speak of it again. And we didn't. Until...well, now."

We sat in silence for about five minutes. My mind was still trying to process all of this but I knew what I had to do.

Getting to my feet, I asked, "Where did he go?"

"Who, Harry?" Lex wiped her eyes. "Probably the dock. He goes there when he's angry."

"Can you take me there?"

"I..." Lex frowned. "Yeah."

We drove to the beach in silence.

It was deserted and a wooden dock protruded out into the sea and sitting on the edge of it was Harry.

Lex waited in the car as I climbed out and jogged towards where Harry was sitting, his legs dangling over the water.

I walked up behind him and placed my hand on his shoulder. His head snapped up and his eyes were bloodshot. In his hand was the flask.

"Harry," I whispered, dropping down beside him. He studied me, taking a swig.

"Stop that." I took the flask from him and put it on the other side of me. "You want to get drunk?"

"Yes," he nodded and his voice was hoarse.

"Then get drunk on me, not alcohol," I replied, softly. My eyes were stinging with tears.

"Celeste..." My name sounded so perfect coming from him. "She...She told you..."

"That doesn't change how I think or feel about you," I said, fiercely.

"Feel about me?" he scoffed. "I told you already, we don't fit."

"We don't have to," I answered, taking his hand. "This isn't about how we go together. It's about what we want. I don't care that you've killed, I don't care. I've known you for less than a week and already, I feel safe with you."

Harry didn't answer. He just stared at the water lapping at the dock.

"Harry," I said, taking his face in my hands and letting my thumbs move over his cheekbones. "We'll go crazy. We'll go absolutely mad if we keep blaming ourselves. I could've stopped my mum from leaving. I could've prevented my father from sinking into depression. But I didn't because I was scared and I was broken. Your situation is different. Harry, I would've done the exact same thing in your place. You're no worse than the rest of us."

He cracked a smile then inhaled, deeply. "Celeste, how could you...how could you even talk to me after knowing that I killed my own father?"

My thumbs continued to move over his cheeks. "I don't know you as well as I'd like to," I admitted. "But I want to know you. I want to be able to know what your favourite colour is, what your favourite food is. I want to know why you want to get your story out there. I want to be able to just melt into your arms and have you hold me. I want to make you smile and laugh and I want to make you annoyed. I want you, Harry. You and only you."

Harry regarded me, a crease between his eyebrows. "I...Celeste...I can't...I can't give you all that. I'm not good for—"

"For me," I finished. "Neither is alcohol but you drink it all the time."

This struck Harry and he looked at me.

"Would you just kiss me?" I begged. "Please, I need to know you're here. I need to know you're okay and really here. That you're not beating yourself up."

And so, he kissed me, slowly and steadily and I could hear his heartbeat and he could hear mine and the world slowly fell away until it was nothing but him and I.

{okay okay this was a lot to take in I think. It was hard writing this!}