✓ Wrong Moves and Knife Wounds /h.s./

[16] midnight giggling and nasty enemies

apartment

His eyes are so bright she thinks he's happy. He smiles more often and takes cat naps at noon. The swell of his lips have gone down and the red in his eyes have died. He looks new.

This doesn't last long, though.

On day three of Harry and Rory, Rory finds Harry crying against the side of the restaurant he works at. She finds him with a lit cigarette hiding behind his cold, blue fingers. No coat or sweater or even an explanation.

On day five, Harry tells her he hates her. Tells her it's her fault that he forgot the anniversary of Penelope's death. He goes to visit his dead ex-girlfriend's grave at one in the morning, and then goes back to Rory with dry eyes. He couldn't cry at the cemetery because he didn't have any more tears to give to the girl that took the happiness from behind his eyes. He kisses an apology into the side of Rory's neck in bed that night and Rory frowns because of his tears. He has no tears for Pen the night he visits her grave but he finds some for the girl he wishes he would treat better.

Day ten is the end.

Day ten is when Harry realizes he's a dick.

Because he killed Pen and can't even show that he's sorry. He feels like shit for not being able to cry over her death. He gets mad at himself, but he also brings Rory down with him.

He calls her at midnight after it's stopped raining. When the ground is wet, welcoming, and reflective. And it looks so pretty that he wants to talk to someone about it. He wants to tell Rory how nice it looks but deep down he knows he shouldn't. He's been avoiding her calls for days now and it'd be weird to call her up. So instead, he grabs a beer and decides to tell the glass bottle how beautiful the lights are.

See, the city is shining. It's on fire and it's so pretty. (Rory would like this. She loves this shit.)

Meanwhile Rory is down on ground level leaving her last class. It's midnight when the call comes through, and her heart skips a beat because she missed his voice.

She answers the phone and is greeted by giggling. It's nothing new, hearing someone's stifled laughter. What's new is that it's Harry. She hears cars and his laughter and she pictures him on his bed with the window open and lips stained with wine or beer. Because Harry doesn't giggle when he's sober.

"You're in a good mood," she smiles. It's genuine, this feeling. She thought he hated her and here he is laughing.

"I feel like I'm floating. Like my veins are singing. Does that make sense?"

"Yes." She says. "What did you take, Harry? Did you go out for a drink? Take pills? You didn't...use any needles, right?"

"No needles, doll," he reassures her softly. Doll. The nickname makes her uneasy. "I get sad when I take medication."

Rory pauses. "Oh." She bites her bottom lip and takes a few deep breaths. This isn't her Harry. "How many drinks have you had?"

"Laugh with me," he walks around the question like a child. Frustration takes root somewhere in her chest because it sounds like he knows something she doesn't. His tone is patronizing and it makes her heart hurt a little.

She hails down a cab and bites down on her lip before deciding to answer. The car makes a stop right in front of her. "Tell me something funny. Tell me what you're laughing at."

"You."

Her hand pauses on the door knob and suddenly the cold air around her isn't enough. Are her lungs even working anymore? He's breathing on the other end, something she struggles with doing right now and the cab driver is glaring at her from behind the partition. His address is on the top of her tongue. All she has to do is get in the car and say it and she'll be there in no time. But her legs don't move and her mouth stays shut.