Puppy Dog Eyes

Heart Fails and Wins

It was weird that he knew my name, birthdate, basically anything that was physical and could be reached.

Yet here, he has no family photos, not even friends, nor even himself.

It wasn't fair that he was mystery, but I was known. He knows my weaknesses, yet I know not about his?

It wasn't fair.

But at the same time, I shouldn't have cared.

But there's only that small ounce of pity that pools at the bottom of my heart because I had a family waiting back home while he has this pure image that I'm family.

I'm not.

I won't be.

This is a forced, temporary stay.

-

"Harry!" L yelled from the kitchen. I got up from the couch, and made my way to the kitchen.

"What?"

"I need to talk to you," L said with a frown.

Well then talk. It's not like I got something else to do.

Besides weep.

"I. Uh. I felt that it was unfair for me to know everything about you, yet you know know nothing about me," he said clearly.

This always happens.

It's like he can read my mind.

Or maybe, because he was just staring at me staring at his no-family-frame living room.

I crossed my arms, "I don't give a shit about you."

He mirrored my actions, "Harry."

I ignored his hard gaze and stared at my feet, "What's your name?" I looked back and he smiled.

"Louis, but call me Lou," he cocked hid hip.

"Louis," I whispered to myself, ignoring his comment after.

Louis.

"What about your family? Do they know how fucked up you are?" I said, biting my nails nonchalantly, still feeling I needed to have wall around me.

I always needed to have a wall around, because if not, people come in, destroy, and leave. Simple as that.

"I didn't have a mom or dad, well, kind of, orphanage, and all," he said, "family died of disease and common accidents," he continued. He did not acknowledge the fact I said something rude, yet accurate.

From his confession, my heart wrenched.

I will have no pity.

I will have no pity for a person that gives such no pity.

"Oh."

"Yeah, but why would I cry if I have no family to remember," he said calmly.

It pissed me off.

"You're right. Because I have mine, and I can't see them, so I cry and cry. It's all I can do!" He pissed me off. No surprise.

I ran to his room and locked the door.

He tried to come in.

"Harry, let me in," Louis said, knocked.

I sobbed and soaked up my white t-shirt. I shake and shivered, I couldn't stop.

"Don't cry, darling," Louis whispered.

I  remember that same phrase from the first few days.

And I cry because, of, of all the things that I feel at the moment.

Don't cry, darling.

Don't cry, darling.

And for once,

I stopped crying.

Louis on the other side, whispered, "When I saw your big, green child-like eyes that held clarity, vividness, and most of all... love, I-I knew I shouldn't have been selfish and kept you for myself, but then I saw sadness, and-and you were lost. What you had back home, or wherever you came from, you, Alice [harry], was not wonderland," he paused, "because I want to show you wonderland. Give me that opportunity, love."

I felt ill, and guilty for what my heart did. I clenched my eyes, and dared to ask, "What are you saying?"

"Let me love you."