The Rich Kid ➝ h.s ( Sequel to TBK)

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Harry

I can't seem to piece together my feelings. Everything's so unclear like a foggy window and I'm trying to draw my own picture, but all I get is unidentifiable smears. After so many years she somehow appears back in my life. It's almost like she's taunting me. Taunting me with her infectious laughter.

She still laughs the same.

I lean back in my chair. The ball point pen in my hand shakes. I have plenty of hesitancy in writing this letter for her--well it's not even a letter, more of a small note. Just to show my gratitude. I don't know if I can convince myself it's more than that. Or if it should be. I find myself thinking about her greatly in the past few days. She's always in the back of my mind, always there patiently waiting.

I shake my head, exhaling. Just write the letter--note. My hands find the paper, not wanting to write on the desk. My pen hovers over the clean sheet of paper that just begs have ink laid upon. With an open mind, I start writing.

It seems like hours before I finish the short thank you letter. Even after I fold the letter in half and gently place it in the envelope, remembering to seal it with the tip of my tongue--hating the taste of the sour glue, I still can't collect my thoughts. It's all a jumble of unknown feelings. It seems like after all these years I've completely fallen apart, lost myself.

A faint knock on the door pulls me away from my thoughts. I stand with alertness, grabbing the side of the table. " Come in, " I acknowledged. I hear the door slowly open and footsteps near me.

Silence.

I roll my eyes. " What is it? " I question.

" Harry...your doctor called, " He reveals. It's Niall. " He wants to see you. It's about the surgery, " He continued. He seemed hesitant about providing me with the information and I wondered why.

I comb my fingers through my hair. " What about it?" I ask. I'm assuming it has something to do with my sight, but what's the catch.

" The appointment is tomorrow, " Niall states, leaving without another word.

I don't think too much about the sketchy conversation with Niall. I have too much to think about already. I feel for the letter slipping it into my shirt pocket. I hope it doesn't wrinkle the paper.

Flowers.

Are flowers even appropriate?

I keep a firm grip on my cane making my way to my bedroom door. It's become an easy finding my way around the house even though we've only lived here for a matter of months. It's a very spacious house, but always seemed to feel so small and suffocating.

I vaguely remember Georgie telling me she likes sunflowers many years ago, hopefully that's still true. She used to tell me they're a gorgeous yellow, so bright and cheerful. She said they always make her smile. The word yellow means nothing to me not knowing what that looks like so I always just trusted her word.

When I make it outside I feel relieved. I hate being inside. All of my emotions feel even more trapped than before. I feel like I'm slowly being closed in, feel like the walls are caving.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of my cane seems to be the only thing I can hear even in the bustling city. I have no idea where I'm going.

I just know I have to get some flowers and give this note to Georgie.

Georgie
11:26 p.m
I couldn't go home. Louis called me earlier telling me how much he missed me and couldn't wait for me to get home. I can't go home to him. I can't go home and see him laying in our bed, smiling. I can't go home and let him welcome me with open arms.

Especially not when he's given himself to someone else behind my back.

I laugh bitterly to myself. My hand brushes over the sunflowers and I can't help but sigh. I think back to a time when I didn't feel this way. When everything was okay and it seems so long ago.

2:06 a.m
I've been sitting on this bench for almost 4 hours. I think. I haven't kept up with the time.

We gotta work this out.

I lean my head to the side. Tears are welling up in my eyes. What have I done to myself?

Buzz, buzz.

I can feel the vibrations of my phone in my ripped jeans. My shaker hands pull out my phone only to see the name I didn't want to see.

Louis.

I don't bother to answer it, letting it go straight to voicemail. Who cares anyways. He didn't bother to tell me he was being unfaithful, so I'm not gonna bother telling him I'm falling apart.

I'm gonna be fine.

6:25 a.m
I feel a strong hand on my shoulder shaking me. My eyes shoot awake, panic setting in. I stand alert looking at my surroundings.

My vision is blurry but when I look I front of me I see a tall middle aged man looking down at me with worry in his eyes. " Are you okay? " He questions.

I run my eyes, looking at the silver watch on my hand. " oh my gosh, " I shout. " I need to leave! " I continue. I hastily grab the sunflowers, placing the note in my jean pocket. I start speed walking or as I say walking with a purpose.

We gotta work this out.