Some Say the World Will End in Fire |l.s.|

fifteen

I've noticed mum getting more and more frustrated with me, as well as Harry. They both complain about how much I lay around, telling me I need to get out into the world again and that they're worried I'm letting myself go or some shit. I've yelled at them about it, they've yelled back, and the circle goes round and round of fighting to complaining. 

Me and Harry are walking home form school currently. I had a rough day today, getting yelled at by the teacher for talking to Harry during class, even though said class was giving me anxiety and Harry noticed and asked me about it. I yelled back that I didn't give a shit about his class anyways, and he sent me out of the class to have a talk.

A bit later, he walked out of the classroom and gave me an angry lecture on how disrespectful I was being and how he wasn't sure what my friends and family tolerated, but he was sure they didn't consider that attitude or use of language tolerable, either. I've been thinking about that ever since, about how I'm becoming harder to tolerate for mum and Harry. It makes perfect sense, actually.

"You alright? I know he made you upset in forth period," he asks me.

"Fine," I nod. I can't bother them both with my shit anymore, I need to act unfazed, otherwise they might give up on me altogether.

"You can tell me, no need to be closed off," he encourages in a light voice. He always uses it to reassure me, and it always makes my insides melt with warmth, but I refuse to let him manipulate me into giving him another reason of why I'm such a burden to him.

"I'm okay, Harry," I smile. It's fake, but he seems to believe it as he nods and kisses me on the cheek before continuing to walk. I feel guilty for lying, I know how much he hates dishonesty. Just another reason why I'm such a shitty boyfriend these days. We make it home and Harry asks me if I want to go to dinner with him at our favorite little pizzeria.

"I'm too tired, right now," I smile apologetically.

"You're always tired," he sighs sadly. "I just want you to be okay." I suddenly feel overwhelmed with guilt because he's right, I'm fucked up and it's effecting him, and honestly, he's probably over it.

"Sorry, we can go out if you want," I say. 

"No," he shakes his head. "If rest is what you need, I'll be here with you. We can go another night, yeah?"

"Yeah," I nod sadly at him as we shuffle over to the bed and cuddle up. I don't manage to sleep through the few hours he naps, not because of nightmares or anything, but because of the guilt I feel. Harry deserves so much better.