Painted Lady {h.s}

snap out of it

{"I'll be here, waiting ever so patiently
For you to snap out of it"}

★ LORELAI ★

July 27th
1997

It's been a very weird week.

Harry has been practically avoiding me, which I can't stand. After my realization the other night, he got really distracted and distant. He took his pack of beers and said he was going for a walk. I've never seen a person get dressed as quickly as he did that day.

Between shows we'll make casual and shallow conversation, but he seems afraid to touch me. He never gets too close like if he does it will impregnate me or something.

And that's the thing!

We don't even know anything yet, it'd be way too soon to even know, so I have no idea why he's so freaked out.

It also hurts.

To know that if I do end up carrying his baby, he'd run. It's like a knife straight to the heart. I didn't ask for this thought to be plaguing my mind either, but if anything he should be there with me. He should be sitting in the mess of my mind with me and offering to help me clean it up. He shouldn't be faking phone calls and dipping out of rooms when I enter.

The only time I have my Harry is at night. He still invites me into his little bunk every night and holds me when I sleep. I cherish those moments more now than I ever did before.

I hate to even be sad and sappy over this right now, because it's all a what if.

I've had multiple long conversations with Faye and Harlow, and they too are stunned at Harry's actions. I just need to talk to him, alone. I need to sit him down and figure out what is going on in his head.

And that's all I can think about as I watch him prance across the stage, performing as if there isn't a care in the world. I guess it's a good thing though, that he's able to continue to give his all to each and every crowd no matter what's going on in his life. The fans deserve that, but so do I.

"Hey, sorry. It was my dad," Faye speaks as she returns to her spot next to me.

"What'd he say?"

"I'll tell you later," She mutters, her eyes returning to the stage as the band plays out the final chords to the last song of the night.

"Lori, you're gonna be fine," She speaks softly as we both clap along with the crowd.

"I know," I sigh, trying to keep my smile from faltering. I don't want another tabloid written about why I looked miserable at Harry's show. "I'm gonna talk to Harry tonight."

"You are?"

"Yeah. He's being a real ass right now, and I need to pick his brain."

"I'll let the band know to give you guys some privacy."

"Thanks Faye, for always being there for me."

"I love you, Lori," She speaks sincerely, grabbing onto my hand and pulling me along with her through the crowd.

We walk into the backstage area, and she leads us down the halls until we reach the dressing rooms. We part ways as I slip into Harry's dressing room, where I'll wait idly by for him to enter.

If there's a right time to talk to him about this, it'll be when he's still pumping with adrenaline.

I sit down on the squeaky couch, nervously bouncing my leg and picking at my nail beds. I run through what I will say to him in my head, my eyes trained to the door. My teeth tear my bottom lip open from how hard I am chewing on it, but the pounding of my heart masks it all.