Ultramarine -- REWRITTEN

Sixteen. [c.h.] -- REWRITTEN

          I didn't know how long I had been laying down. Long enough to the point where my muscles began to feel stiff, my eyes would no longer focus on the wall in front of me, and the blanket became another part of my skin. It was long enough to the point where my breakfast tray was knocked out of the slot by my lunch tray and tumbled to the ground; Harry insisted that I eat something.

          "I would think that your first words of the day to me would be to keep my promise from yesterday," I croaked, clearing my burning throat. If anything, I only wanted water. My stomach growled, demanding for the food that I lacked the energy to eat.

          "What promise?"

          "You know," I grunted, finally sitting up. The muscles in my back whined as I curved it toward the ceiling, wincing as I did so. I turned to the left and the right, my shoulders and lower back screaming in my lungs. Popping from my bones was like music to my ears which released all the pressure in my body. "In exchange for you telling me about Brian yesterday, I tell you about the Refinement and the Cataclysm."

          He looked back at me and furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head gently, "I don't remember that."

          My eyebrows lifted and I gave him a pitiful chuckle, "I appreciate you trying to make me laugh, but I'd rather get the conversation over with before I regret telling you about it." I swung my legs over the bed and stood, thinking that the bones in my legs would snap and send me to the ice below. I squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn't there anymore.

          "Who's Brian?"

          "Harry, I already know that you're joking. You can stop now."

          "You act like this every time I don't know something," he grumbled, fully turning to face me and folding his arms over his chest.

          "But this is different! You know Brian," I argued, taking a step toward him.

          "No, I don't," he growled, placing his hands toward his sides and clenching them into fists.

          "We literally had a conversation about him being extricated yes-ter-day," I pronounced each syllable as he towered over me. "In the courtyard," I explained further. His gaze flickered across mine, full of pure anger, confusion, and desolation. His chest rose up and down, sending oxygen to the blood in his locked jaw. He was missing something. He shook his head. "Brian. You told me that his eyes were turning brown when you last talked to him. . ."

           Harry didn't say anything as his gaze fell from mine momentarily to search my face. His thoughts frantically rolled over in his head, scrambling for some sort of recollection that would connect my words to memories. Why couldn't he remember?

           "I don't know," he mumbled hopelessly.

          "Look at me." He looked at me. I sighed, "even though you don't remember yesterday's conversation for some reason, which is ridiculous by the way, I'll still tell you about the Cataclysm and the Refinement. We made a deal, and I don't back out of deals. Yeah?"

          "Yeah, sure."

          "You don't seem that enthusiastic knowing that you're about to find out the greatest piece of information you'll ever hear," I chuckled, placing my hands on my hips. Harry ran his hands through his hair and groaned.

          "I'm just frustrated. What you're saying feels right; I just don't remember it happening."

          I sighed and gave him a pitiful smile. I told him to step forward, which he did with a little hesitation. I reached up and gently placed my hands on his cheeks, feeling heat grow slowly underneath my touch.