Another Run Away

are you hyperventilating?

"So I'll er- see you later shrekki." He said with an awkward glance in his rooms direction before looking down at the floor like it was the most interesting thing he had every seen.

Before I could even protest or ask him what I can do to keep me entertained while I sit in limbo he slammed the door in my face, just perfect.

I looked around at the basically empty apartment and it was dark, silent and mysterious and suddenly an eerie feeling came over me. Maybe this was the end for me. 

I laughed to myself because obviously it wasn't the end for me but the feeling didn't leave and i didn't feel any safer. I looked outside and I could barely see the street below with the exception of some solar powered street lights that have a reserve energy source, maybe he was lying?

I stalked over to the elevator and looked at the computer system saying that the elevator was on ground. And pressed the down button.

I waited, and waited and waited for the computer system to indicate that the elevator was in fact moving but I was wrong. Very wrong. Harry hadn't lied after all, I was stuck here.

I sat down on the kitchen stools and started thinking and getting annoyed that he hadn't even given me a chance and he did not want to. Why wouldn't he want to give me a chance? Is it because I'm not easy, or that I'm not a flirt and I have no interest in him.

Maybe I wanted to be his friend (Maybe I wanted nothing to do with him) but who was he to me to be a complete asshole about it?

 In all honestly what have I done wrong to him other than a few side remarks that should've been said under my breath? Nothing.

I don't like his personality or the way he goes about things, I dint even like his conversational skills or little smirks. I don't care if he doesn't like me but he knows too much and I have to be nice, I always have to be nice to the ones I don't like. Normally they are ex friends of mine that know too much. I just know that this year is different, it's a new school and a new lifestyle. So why am I letting this jerk get in my way?

Well really I have no choice, he knows way to much for me to be a b1tch about it.

"Are you alright?" the voice I despise asks and I nearly lose it, all of a sudden he is here asking me if I am okay. Why couldn't he just stick to one personality? 

Breathe

Breathe

Breathe

Breathe

I open my eyes and close my fists, my hands are shaking but I manage to calm myself down.

"are you hyperventilating?" he asks sounding almost concerned from under his doorway.

"Possibly." I whisper under my breath

"do you want me to get you a paper bag or something?" he scratches his head, probably trying to think of a better idea while he rocks back and forward on his heels.

"Not really." plus i doubt he would have a paper bag on him.

"Are you sur-" he persists 

"I said not really." I gritted my teeth before I resume trying to breath like a normal person normally would as I hold onto the bench tighter.

"Okay I'll just let you breathe then, call out if you feel like you're going to pass out or something." He states coldly waiting for me response.

"Will do." I replied just as cold as he goes back into his room and slams the door. I try to calm my breating for a few more minutes until the ringing in my ears stop and I feel my pulse going back to normal. 

So much for keeping my friends close and my enemies closer. Maybe I should just talk to him, talking like civil people always helps right?

I take long strides until I reach his door. 'Harry open up' and all i hear is a grunt in return.

A grunt, not the hot manly grunt many people fanaticise about. It was a "I'm a teenage boy and my mum asked me to do chores grunt"

"Harry please open up" I said in a tone that was sincere enough but not sounding desperate.

"No, go away"

"Harry I'm just going to keep knocking until you open the door"

*knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock*

I heard movement from the other side of the door so I put on my "don't mess with me face"

"What do you want" he whines like a four-year-old.

"We need to talk" I sigh, not to my surprise, he does too.

"No we don't."

"I disagree."

"You can't disagree because it is my decision."

"We'll I still believe that we should talk."

"We have nothing to talk about, I have nothing to say to you." He sighs tugging at his hair.

"Well I have things to say to you, a whole rainbow of vocabulary to be precise, just let me in." at that point I wasn't aware if I was talking in metaphors or not, I just really wanted to know what was going on inside his head.

"You can't just talk to yourself, it is quite unhealthy.' He muttered.

"Just try and stop me."

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