☁️: this is set sometime in the future. when you want that future to be is up to you! enjoy :)
________
"May I ask why you've called?" Harry called from the window.
"Just come on up here." Minnie dismissed, gesturing to him to sit by her on the roof of... 1785 Cornelius Street.
"Alright, alright. But make it quick. It's freezing out here" He sniggered, abiding by her gesture. He followed her line of sight... it was always her and the stars, wasn't it? And the winter too... something about December.
"So I really can't ask why you called? And tonight? Of all nights?"
Minnie shrugged as if the night hadn't been one of the most important of her life. "I just wanted to talk, that's all."
Harry shook his head. "Fine. Fine. We won't address it then. What d'you wanna talk about?"
"You know, the first time we met was on a roof." She sighed dreamily, entirely ignoring his inquiry.
"I remember." He chuckled. "Did you know... I'm pretty worried about you right now?"
"No need to be. I'm content... for the first time, I think."
"Ahh, so this is about Olivia."
"For the most part." Minnie laughed.
"Well then, go on."
She takes her time.
"What do you think of trust?"
Harry lets out a puff of air. "I'd think we're nothing without it."
"We?"
"Humans. People. Friends."
He takes a second to consider the topic.
"...Is this about trusting Olivia?"
"No. God no, of course I trust her. She's probably the only person I actually trust."
"Ouch."
"It's not you, it's..."
"You."
"Precisely." She winced. "It's always been me... I'm too fucked in the head to function like a normal person."
"Is there a reason for that?"
Minnie chuckled. "I could name a few."
"They're all people, aren't they?"
Her eyes widened. "How did you know that?"
He shrugged. "You've got the look of someone who's been let down one too many times... Big eyes like that can only hold so much hope. It's almost like you're set up for disappointment."
"What the fuck, Harry?" She smacked his shoulder.
"It's not an insult! I'm just interpreting!" He smacked hers with a goal of vengeance.
"Stop interpreting sad shit!"
"Calling it 'sad shit' is a bit minimizing, don't you think? I like 'melancholic.'" He sighed as if in an artsy daydream.
"I like that." She admitted. "It's kind of fucked."
"Life is fucked."
"Very true, Harold."
"Don't call me that." He whined.
"You let Dan call you that, why can't I?"
"Dan's... different."
