Passion || h.s.

Chapter 11

"Can you leave now?" I asked. It was about three in the morning, and Harry was still sitting against my door. 

"No, if I leave, you'll drink, and I don't want that." 

"Harry, I don't care what you want. Just leave. I won't drink, I'll join A fucking A. Just leave." 

"Why can't you just go to sleep?" He asked me, smirking at me. 

"I don't want to sleep with a liar," I sneered. 

He shook his head. "I'm not a liar." 

"Yes you are Harry! You lied to me. You have no authority over me whatsoever. Just leave, because I don't want you here." 

This wasn't how I wanted my relationship with Harry to be. I wanted to at least be friends with him, to laugh and smile like we supposedly used to. I just wanted to be normal, to have a normal life and be friends with people and make silly mistakes. But I couldn't. That's not who I am. 

"I'm sorry I lied to you, and I'm sorry that you feel that way, but I need you to forgive me." 

"Why?" He wouldn't look me in the eye, just stared behind me. At that damned mountain. It was like I wasn't there anymore, and he didn't have anything else to say to me. But he stayed. He still sat there and waited. And I couldn't take it. So instead of waiting him out, I finally got under my covers, falling asleep easier than I would have liked. 

____

I woke up at six that morning. The whopping three hours of sleep I got didn't ease my mind, nor give me any rest. Harry was no longer at my door. He must of left sometime through the short amount of sleep I got. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness when I realized I he wasn't there. My feelings for Harry confused me, mostly because I didn't think I had any. But there were times when I wanted to be with him so badly it hurt, but he was so annoying I could barely stand him. I needed a smoke. I tiptoed out of bed, walking to the tiny balcony hidden in Harry's room. He wasn't in there either, which confused me even more than I already was. 

Where was Harry? 

I didn't worry about it much as I stepped out into the cold air. The cigarette sat between my lips, still unlit. 

"Can I have one?" I jumped at the sound of the voice, the cigarette dropping from my lips. It rolled from the wood we stood on, falling to the ground with a silent thud. Harry stood behind me, his hands in his pockets. He didn't have a shirt, only a pair of sweats that rode a little too low on his waist covering him. He looked amazing. 

"No," I answered, lighting a new one. I placed it between my lips, inhaling sharply. It had been a few days since my last one, and it felt too long. It was a nasty addiction I had picked up after the death of my family. 

"Than why do you get one?" 

"You sound like a child," I muttered, taking another hit. "Besides, this isn't a democracy. They aren't a toy." 

"Yet you treat them as if they were," he replied, knocking the deteriorating tube falling to the ground. Harry stepped on it, making sure it was out. I didn't bother to answer him, just walked back inside. "Michela, wait." 

"Harry, you confuse me." My heavy footsteps echoed through the apartment. I finally ended up in the kitchen, sitting down at the tiny table. My hands nervously drummed against the wood, my foot taping against the ground. Of course Harry would follow me. He always did. I still didn't know why, but I was about to find out. 

"How?" 

"You're so left and right with me, up and down, side to side. I don't know where we stand, but I'm falling quickly. This is it Harry. We obviously can't be friends, it's not working. Are you physically attracted to me?"