Beau

jim beam.

For the most part, I'm completely in control of my actions- bodily that is. Verbally, not at all.

This is one of these rare times my feet move before I can give myself the option to opt out. 

"Harry, wait!" I call after him, pushing the door open. "You don't get to do that, Harry. You're not allowed to act all dark and mysterious with those ridiculous comments. I am just so sick of this back and forth thing! Stop telling me there are things about you that I won't ever know. It makes me want to know, and God forbid I have to stay up one more night because of you..." Point made here. I have no control of my mouth.

"Excuse me?" Harry glances up at me through his overgrown hair, tossing it through his hands. "I remember when I was five years old and through temper tantrums. Surprisingly, it's not that cute on you. Your face does this horrible scrunching thing" He's completely serious by his remarks, and oh my god, I think I'm going to burst out of my moral values.

"Look , you little asswipe, I really don't have the time to argue with a child any longer, goodbye"

"Last time I checked, you dropped out of school, you seem to have plenty of time." Damn, does he know how to dish it right back.

I'm surprised he hasn't brought up the slip of words a few moments ago. For someone who is so in love with themselves, I would expect him to have a hay day with it.

"Maybe, Darcy was right..." For the first time, I contemplate what I am going to say, fuck it, "you're a nothing. You're completely rubbish, Harold. What do you have going for yourself besides looks, which mean absolutely nothing, because your personality is shit. You're shit!" I can't tell if my chest is burning from my collapsing lung due to the air, or if I'm realizing that's exactly who I am. I am shit.

"There you go, Beau!" He yells and opens his arms wide, staring up at the now dark sky, laughing "Get it out! Scream your damn heart out if you have to!"

I rush towards his towering body. My fists pound against his chest, "Fuck you, Harry! You and your damn tattoos and.. and.." New Years resolution- learn to just shut my mouth.

Harry's hands dominate my own, pushing them down in front of both of us. "Does this make you feel better?" His previous demeanor has completely vanished in the night's air. He's enraged now, spit seething from his lips. "Fuck you! I get you're angry at the world right now, and you feel that everything and everyone is against you. You don't want to get out of bed anymore, and if you do, it's to down another bottle. I have let you use me as a verbal punching bag, hoping that somehow making me feel like I was nothing would make you feel something other than pain. I have been there, Beau. I have been drowning in my own tears and a bottle of Jim Beam, cursing up to a God I don't even believe in. I'm not going to let someone replicate my life, especially not you!" The look on his face is evident he didn't want any of that to be said.

I pull my hands away from his and clasp my own together, blowing air from my mouth to them. Harry rolls his eyes, grabbing my hand significantly more gentle this time, "Get in my car." yet, his words are still as harsh as ever.

I digest his words, but knowing Harry isn't one for sharing secrets, I don't pry by asking any questions. I want to know everything about him, even though I don't ever want to speak to him again. This whole 'bad boy' bullshit makes me want to hurl, but at the same time, I can't help but want to know what's made him so disturbed.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Just as I expected, he drops my hand when we get to his car. Surprisingly, he opens the car door, something I would never expect from Harry. "Thanks for opening the door" I whisper. He rolls his eyes and slams the Jeep's door shut. Harry rounds the vehicle, getting into the driver's seat "Fuck, it's cold!"

"Okay, I have tried to bite my tongue-" I start, but he decides to chime in, "My dad died. Darcy is the closest thing I have to a father, he's one of the best men that I have ever met or whatever." Harrys' eyes burn into my own. His face is so flat, no emotion on his face.

"God, Harry, I'm so sorry."

"No, you don't get to do that whole pity bullshit. I'm going to tell you the story of my relationship with my father. Darcy loves you like his own child, and I'm not going to let him get another fucked up kid. He's too much of a good man for that." For just a quick second, his breath catches in his throat, but he tries to cough and cover it up.

I don't want him to feel obligated to tell me this. Talking about your dead parent isn't just an ordinary walk in the park. "I'm a complete stranger, Harry. I don't think you want to pour your soul out to me, that's ridiculous." Oh, there we go, I'm back.

"Shut the hell up, Beau. You're not a stranger to Darcy, you're practically his kid, which makes you a 'sister-ish' thing." He starts the engine, and pulls out onto the snow-covered roads.

(I have decided to reincarnate myself and start writing this book again. This story has great potential, and I am exited to explore where it can go! Thanks for reading!)