Damaged » h. styles au

EPILOGUE

                                                               EPILOGUE.

“I’ll barely remember my own name next morning, I’m sure. If I wake up, that is,” he’d said with his eyes closed and head hung far back on the bench. The night air was thrilling and the lights were stunning, but everything was just a stunning blur, at the time.

“Oh, shush. You haven’t drunk that much at all. Have seen you do better before.”

He’d laughed to the air, loud yet slow, free. He hadn’t been drunk. Not at all. One beer and a half would never have such a stupid effect on him. So, really, drunk hadn’t been the case. Not alcohol drunk, at least. He’d been rather dazed, though; it’d felt as if he was high.

(He was sort of on cloud nine, but there were other reasons).

“I’m old,” he’d stated, turning to look at her with a lazy grin on his lips and an itching feeling underneath his skin. It’d been a while. “Don’t think my organism is healthy enough to take such an adrenalin.”

She’d laughed, too, wiggling closer until her hand was on his thigh.

“Always been such a rule-breaker, haven’t you?”

He’d snorted, closing his eyes and smiling up at the sky, dark. Darker. Darkening. It was late. Really late, actually. He’d have to be up just in a few hours, and yet, there he’d been: not in his bed.

“Says who? The public interest lawyer.” He’d laughed harder, the force of his actions hitting him like a train. It’d been shameful, he’d admit it, but it felt good nonetheless, how his heart started beating harder against his ribcage. “God, we’re doing it so wrong. I’m a teacher. I’m supposed to teach kids and young teenagers not to make stupid decisions in their lives; respect settled limits and all that. And you,” he’d pointed a finger at her face, missing it by miles, his eyes still closed “You were supposed to make sure people like us got punished.”

She hadn’t laughed as hard as him, but there’d been an amused smile tugging at her lips, and she couldn’t stop it.

“So what, Harold? We jumped a fence to a playground, there’s no one around to give us away,” she’d thrown her head back, too, but her eyes remained open. She couldn’t really see stars– it was too much of a big city with way too many lights to allow so – but that hadn’t been what’d caught her attention. “Just an observation, by the way. You teach music. Not sure how that relates to anything we just did.”

“Still a teacher,” he’d stated with his chest full of pride– full of sh–t, too, she’d say. “Still must be some sort of a good example to younger minds.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not taking any risks. If someone shows up, we’ll run. They won’t have names. For all I know, I could still be lying to you about mine.”

He’d laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Because he’d skipped important and necessary hours of sleep already, so he may have had as well enjoyed the rest of his awaken hours.

“In this case. Will I get to know your name this time?”

She’d smiled even bigger. Because, absurdly or not, back in her head she’d known she’d heard the question before. She’d remembered the other night, years ago, on some other bench, with some other story. Another context. It’d been there and then, though, in New York, years after. It’d been there the moment, and everything had been upside down.