half of my heart // hs ON HOLD

six

652 Days Before

Sharing a twix bar with Harry was the easiest thing I've ever done. If you take in consideration that I have the pleasure in enjoying the left side while Harry always calls dibs on the right, we seem to manage in being a team on completing the beauty of the chocolatey greatness.

After watching Remember Me and having my heart tear in two all through out the movie, we found ourselves under a Milky Way of joy as I had my own ivory way of constellations to my left.

"Have you ever done drugs Harry?" I was scared of the outcome and as I almost regretted the question, I immediately remembered my senior year.

It had to be around eleven, maybe twelve, but the night was still prematurely young. I found my bones aching and the urge to be in bed was stinging. I looked down at my phone and ignored the incoming texts from Sammy, he knew I wasn't where I should be and that's what hurt the most, the realization that I was letting more than myself down.

I held onto the bathroom sink, thee figures moving around behind me as I slapped the door shut before calling the idiot in the corner a dick for leaving it open.

The music was overbearing and I wanted to put earmuffs on and escape from reality for a while, but I had doughnuts covered in sugar in front of me and my brain was rotting while it screamed no more, my insides begging and my soul exploding. I should've given up months ago, I should've said goodbye last spring, but now it's winter and I find myself in a new bathroom at a new party with new 'friends' and new flavored sugar.

I was crushed, ironically so was it. Pink hair in the back lined her life up beside my own collection as my life flashed before my eyes. Was I really going to do this again? Of course I was.

My nose nearly touched the marble counter tops as that unfriendly sensation burned down my bones and opened up an utopia inside of my skin that I only wished felt good, and that's all it took for me to end up in the bed of a twenty plus college student that had an insane addiction to weed as bongs lined up his walls.

I stared down at my naked body, bruises lining my wrists, I could feel my skin cracking with dried blood on the edge of my nostrils, like a crescent moon crying blood.

I was insane, and nobody could help me, and before I even knew it, I was killing the majority of my insides without even realizing that today was my brothers birthday.

"I smoked all through out high school, tried weed in eleventh grade, smoked that for a while, drank occasionally, but the cool kids back in my school were the church boys that played baseball on Sundays and prayed every Wednesday."

I could picture a young Harry, his curls tighter, his torso shorter, his legs bulkier, his cheeks smoother, his jaw rounded, his skin breaking out on his forehead. I pictured him to be that hot eleventh grade badass that the twelve year olds even admired. I could see him smirking in the halls as he leaned against the metal lockers, his mouth full of sweets as every cheerleader dreamily teased him while their good for nothing Wednesday praying Sunday playing baseball player of a boyfriend even dreamed to look like Harry.

Ands that's when it hit me, that I was sitting next to that boy that was admired by all ages, I was sitting next to the boy that even old woman appreciate, I was sitting next to a king on my screaming roof, and I was the luckiest queen alive.

"What was that book about?" It never hit me with a cloud as big as that one until I realized that I hadn't touched the snake skinned leather demon eyed book for twenty+ days.It deserves a golden star for starting the friendship between the forest boy and the sad girl, a friendship like no other, but was it even strong enough to call a friendship?

"Haven't opened it." He nodded at my faint response, his legs extending as he stood straight up, the streets creaking with monsters as the roof was our boundary from the other world. "What are you doing?"

"Going to get that damned book," and he was gone, his neck sucked first, his legs bending slightly as he folded in two, smothering his silky skin against the fire escape and jumping down the tiny flight and into my back door. His fingertips were still visible on the door as I figured he spotted the book a good two fucking centimeters from the fire place basically sitting on the door.

He was just a cloud of curiously that smelt like a regret as he leaned against the fire escape, that secret utopia that consisted of fluttering feelings and floating beer cans and burned out cigarettes.

Speaking of which, the long skinny white pearl rubbed against my index finger and I let the smoke simmer down into the night sky, the lighter covered in bored scribblings when I am never preoccupied with as much activities as I wish to be consumed with.

He put his body next to mine and I swear we were a heat blanket for the sick innocent children in the hospital three blocks down, but I didn't care if I got coughed on, id have an awesome fucking dude beside me to get sneezed on.

The leather book was woven in between his candy like fingers like a piece if pizza would look in mine- just something that oddly matches. I admired the way his eyebrows stitched like thread into a simple v caressing ivory twines above his sea of diamonds. His eyelids dropped a little over his sea foam globes, but I could still see his world- full of potential and dreams, he still just doesn't know it yet.

He flipped a few pages, not really reading it, just skimmed, and I felt my heart drop on the inside just a little more every page he flipped, my insides flip flopping like a fish out of water, lion out of the jungle.

"Well," he paused, his lips curling and coiling and setlling, "uh, 's just a book I suppose."

And that was my mistake, I didn't grab the book from candy boy, I didn't flip through the pages and read the plot line, I didn't discover the untold secrets of the mysterious bruning snake skin, I watching candy fingers set down the fire ringed book and didn't think twice about it.

That night I let Harry sleep on my couch, I offered to let him sleep in my bed, which isn't that weird, but as if we were being watched by thousands like a movie, he declined, asking me where a spare blanket and pillow might be, and jumped on the couch, tucking himself up to the chin, and grinning at me fromt under frosted eyelashes, my legs melting into icecream in the sun.

I slept seven hours the night that the chestnut curly haired boy slept on my couch for ten hours, and everything felt right. That extra presence that wasn't needed in my life, but was needed in my soul, it was enough to make my smile grow even when the old man with the hairless dog started smoking on the pale street below my screaming apartment on top of that damn music shop.

It was a good night, for once.