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18ᵀᴴ CHAPTER

                                                   18ᵀᴴ CHAPTER               

      “Intuition is the highest form of intelligence, transcending all individual abilities and skills” 

Well, then. Maybe not everyone, maybe not friends included.

Maybe some people are worth the caring anyway. After all, Harry let Zayn back in already. The decision hadn’t been much difficult, all in all. To be honest, he doubts he even stood a chance at choosing whether he’d let Zayn back in or not; it simply happened so fast as if it was meant to, that he didn’t argue it.

So. Maybe the whole I-won’t-love-anyone-again-ever-thing doesn’t apply to everyone. It’s just that- Harry gets attached to people too soon, probably. He can’t stop from feeling safe when people show him their nice side, can’t stop himself from wondering how they can turn into such monsters when the situation feels all wrong. He wonders why such nice things have got to change, why the world can’t just stop turning at the moment all things just simply fit.

And maybe that’s the problem. There are facts Harry can’t argue, some of them being that, one: the world won’t stop spinning just because he feels like getting down and just watching from outside sometimes. Two: fact one makes it another fact that everyone must have ups and downs throughout their lifetimes. And three: Harry gets attached too soon.

Right now, with Dora smiling sweetly at something Bridgit said, her eyes just their normal size but still full of emotion; with Edwin trying to steal another forkful of pasta should be saved for PJ, and with Elisha looking at Harry as if he’s not from this world, it just… He can’t say he’s been having much of this familiarity lately.

The Friday prior his mother had called him, had spit out so many words at once as if to keep Harry on the line, that he barely made out her intents. His heart ached the moment she lowered her voice just to say “I miss you” as if it was a sin; a secret she was afraid of.

And okay, maybe she had overreacted. Maybe the whole family had overreacted to Harry’s accident, and even though he would hardly forget how it all had gone, they were still his family, and he missed them so much it nearly caved a hole inside his chest.

So yes, he stayed up all night on the phone with her, tried to suppress the need to start crying at the soothing voice murmuring gentle praises at him from time to time. It made him lighter and heavier at the same time, knowing he could simply call his mother whenever he felt like it, and also knowing she didn’t show a sign of guilt for (sort of) destroying his entire life when she got rid of him.

But it all always ends on Chrissie anyway, so she’s possibly the only one to really blame.

Harry hates her. Except he’s not sure he actually, really does.

“It’ll get cold, Harry,” Bridgit says lowly at him, pointing discretely with her fork towards his plate and winking just because.

He glances briefly at her before smiling tight and forcing his fork to twirl around the pasta, mostly toying with the food before he actually pulls it up to wrap his lips around it.

It tastes heavenly, the smell just as such, the weather outside closing up as the darkness trails along. It also smells of rain as it’s become usual for the past days, though it doesn’t always come down before Harry’s already into bed, curled up into himself just trying to fit onto such a small mattress.