i'm missing the you
i once knew
i'm forgetting the me
i used to be
Harry tapped on my door late into the afternoon to tell me that we had to go somewhere to get things he needed. He didn't specify, not ever feeling the need to, and his eyes stayed locked on the floor or the mess I've made over the past few days. I just whispered a reply and he let me be. I slipped in my tattered yoga leggings with a comfy t-shirt that smells like my bed sheets back at my apartment. Grabbing a coat, I walked out of my room to find harry so we could leave.
My makeup-less face was hit by the flakes of condensation falling from the darkened sky. No blaring car horns or screeching of the brakes being slammed could be heard for miles - the storm keeping people from taking the rather barren streets of Manhattan. Harry walked a foot in front of me at all times, not bothering to spark a conversation.
I wanted to ask him what was on his mind. The weather? The mess I've made in his room? What he wants for dinner? My sloppy disgrace of a kiss last night? The list continues to get longer in my head at the possibilities.
We walk into a store and he finally speaks to me. "Do you need anything?"
I shake my head 'No', and he continues on in his own world incased in his skull. He'll never know how much I envy to get past those gates and be able to live the non-reality inside there.
Before I know it, we're at the cashier. Harry pays with a credit card and walks out without saying a word to anyone. Everyday, the more I watch him, I learn how he keeps to himself and is very self-sheltered from the people around him.
"When will I be able to see Danica again?" I ask. He turns to look over his shoulder at me as we walk out of the store. The frost hits his cheeks and they instantly turn into a deep scarlet.
"When...I don't know." He breathes in. "When Massey is free. I'm not going to stay alone with you two."
I raise an eyebrow. "We aren't a bother, really."
He chuckles. "I've been around Danica long enough to know that all she does with her friends is gossip and drink too much wine." He looked at the snow cover ground and the tracks he was leaving behind. "And I've seen you get carried away, too." He murmurs under his breath.
Well, that was embarrassing. I wanted to say to him, in the most caring way possible, "And the only thing you're good at is kicking people while they're down", but I bit my tongue. It wasn't worth getting into another argument with him. It was time to let Harry win for once - well, win for once without a fight.
As we arrived back to his apartment, he set down the plastic bags and walked into the living room. A drawer was pulled open smoothly, and Harry's long fingers pulled out a perfectly rolled blunt. The drug was followed by a lighter, which did it's job and lit the end of the stick. Harry didn't bother to open a window - he straight smoked it without a care.
He must have notice my annoying stare. "Want a hit?"
I nodded and carried myself over to him, taking it out of his finger and bringing it to my mouth. I breathed deeply and held my breath, feeling a slight change in my way of thinking, and blew out the cloud before handing it back to Harry.
"What did you mean last night?" Harry inspected the blunt before taking it between his plump lips again.
I laughed lightly, looking at the ground. He walked over to the couch and I followed after. We sat down not too far from each other.
"You'll have to fill me in. Everything is a blur besides..." I trailed off as soon as my words went in the direction I want to avoid.
He smirked as my words faded. "You said 'Alcohol says what sobriety could never admit'. What can't you admit?"
I looked straight forward, avoiding his gaze at all costs. I could feel his stare burning into my right cheek.
"You're gonna have to get me drunk before I ever answer that." I swallow. I knew he already knew the answer. Not as deep as it really is, but he was beginning to make a dent in the surface of my feelings.
I looked down to the place above my right knee as Harry placed his large hand there. My heart skipped a beat as I glanced over the platinum wrapped around his fingers and felt blessed to be lucky enough to have his digits touching me. I looked up at him to see him breathing in the last of the blunt, and putting it in an ashtray while blowing out the last traces of the drug.
"Come here." He said quietly.
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm right next to you." I was nervous and panicky, not wanting to mess up this almost perfect moment.
He just shook his head and chuckled, probably feeling my shaking limb underneath his palm. His movements of taking his hand under my chin and pulling my lips to his stunned me. I was as still as a statue as he pulled away from our four-second lip-lock. My eyes opened to see his glossy emeralds looking back at me carelessly. His hand was still gripping my chin lightly, his eyes scanned my face for any sign of life which my still body couldn't show. The darkness outside contrasted against the moonlight, which his eyes somehow caught a sparkle of. He really was more like a piece of art than any painting or poetry could ever be.
"Come on, Brin. You kissed me last night without a second thought." He nearly whispered. My knees felt weak, even though the couch was my seat.
I couldn't tell if it was the one hit from the blunt, or me becoming brave for once in my life, but the way I brought my lips to his was something regular Brinley would have never done. Thinking back, Harry was the drug all along; Incredibly dangerous but made me feel so good.
Our lips worked better than our last encounter. His hand went from beneath my chin to tangled in my hair - the other grasping my waist. My hands were careful, yet all over the place. I wanted to touch every inch of his being, and I've waited too long for this to happen.
He laid me down on my back and climbed between my legs, never breaking away for air or letting anything distract us. He was completely focused on me - only me - and I've never considered myself lucky until now.
If you run out of paper in your journal
Use my skin as paper and your lips as ink
