“Ah thanks.” I mumble as my eyes dart around and I begin to head out of the strange street, back onto the main road.
“Not so fast.” He sighs almost like he is annoyed and grabs my wrist to pull me back. My body flings around and I pull my arm out of his grip quickly.
“What could you possibly have to say to me? Don’t you think you’ve said it all last time we talked?” I hiss at him taking a step back to keep my distance. The disgusting smell of this city street is really getting to my nose, that I find myself trying to cover it from the smell.
“Fucking hell...” Harry groans, running his hand through his hair and turning around slowly, facing back to me after a few seconds.
“Well if that’s all your majesty, I will be leaving.” I mock as I begin to walk back out of the street, pulling my jumper over my core to keep me warm. I don’t know if these shivers are from the adrenaline and fear running through my body or the coldness in the air.
“Wait, Harmony.” Harry calls after me and I roll my eyes, spinning around furiously. I’m sick of this, I’m sick of him. I have been avoiding him for two weeks now, and let me tell you I have done a good fucking job at it. But that doesn’t mean I have enjoyed it, and him showing up everywhere and pulling me into his shit is really making this more difficult.
“No Harry, no I will not wait.” I cringe at speaking his name, the name I have referred to as the ‘H thing’ for the last two weeks. “I’m sick of this shit. You trying to talk to me, trying to be friends with me after the shit you have said to me. I have tried so hard these last two weeks to stay away from you. And I have done a good fucking job until your friends showed up today.” I bite at him, my voice rising and my body getting tense. I’m pissed off, so pissed off.
He looks surprised, his eyes wide. Full of sorrow, sympathy? It feels like I have finally got through to him, finally my words have sunk through him and hit something. Something that’s made him realise what he’s doing. Because the next two words I was not expecting.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s too late.” I sigh, beginning to turn away again.
“I’m fucked up, I know. I’m completely fucked up. I’m rude, ignorant, and obnoxious. But I can’t do this without you anymore.” He yells out and I feel like I’m stuck in some sort of fairy tale. I turn around immediately to the last few words.
He can’t do this without me anymore…
I don’t understand. This feels like some fucking Disney movie or some shit. This isn’t real life. I don’t understand anything coming out of his mouth. Hell I don’t understand anything anymore, I’m as clueless as a fucking goldfish.
“No, don’t. Don’t say that.” I mumble, trying to collect my thoughts as I fall apart at the scene. He doesn’t need me, he’s just playing me again. Saying the things I want to hear, but I know will be thrown back at me.
“Don’t do this to me again Harry, please.” I find myself begging as I back away. My trust has been broken one too many times with him, I couldn’t take another hit.
“I’m sorry Harmony. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was trying to keep you safe. I was trying to make sure you didn’t get hurt.” He apologizes as he walks towards me his hand still finding its way through his knotty curls.
“You didn’t want me to get hurt? Don’t you think it’s a bit late for that Harry?” I scoff, holding back the emotions I know I’m about to spill.
It’s been two weeks of hell. I liked Harry. I did, and I have admitted that before. So you can imagine what it felt like to have your heart crushed by the boy you liked. The boy you thought shared similar feelings? But I managed to kick myself out of it, convince myself I was just going through a ‘stage’ a stage where I wanted a bad boy, a boy to give me a challenge. But with every word he speaks, every emotion that flashes across his face, everything I have convinced myself is slowly fading and I can’t seem to stop it unless I stop him.
“I was trying to keep you safe.” He tries to tell me, his excuse as stupid as it sounds making me get butterflies in my stomach. He wants to keep me safe. But he doesn’t need to, if he only just told me that to start off with instead of being an unforgivable arsehole.
“I can keep myself safe.” I say and quickly turn around, not letting him explain anymore. Making sure no more of my walls fade away.
“Please just let me explain.” He calls out, but I barley just catch the end of his plead as I make my way around the corner back onto the main road, where my feet pick themselves up and take me home as quick as they can move.
-
I call it my lazy Sunday. The day where I sit on my couch, watch more depressing chick flicks and let all my emotions set themselves free for no one to see.
After I got home yesterday, I basically showered for 20 minutes straight trying to avoid the internal argument with myself. I put my pyjamas on and jumped into bed calling it a night around 6pm. To say I had a limited amount of sleep was probably an understatement. From being greeted from unusual scary nightmares, to laying there staring at my wall the whole night playing that line over and over in my head.
‘I can’t do this without you anymore.’
I have had a million debates with myself all day. Some including:
1. I could just runaway and start a new life somewhere else in the middle of the Mexico, changing my name to Gloria.
2. Never go back to work and ignore all phone calls from known numbers
3. Accept the fact that harry is trying to re-patch things
4. Ignore harry completely and see how my life plays out
4. Accept his apology and trust him again.
The last one would have been the longest debate, considering I haven’t come up with my decision yet. Because number 1 still sounds like the best idea right now.
After going upstairs and trying to rub the tear stains off due to watching my all-time favourite the note book- which I am considering chucking away because I am a hopeless romantic and it’s definitely not helping me any shape, way or form- I have concluded that my eyes are most likely going to be red and puffy the whole day. So grocery shopping will just have to wait till tomorrow night, as well with the gym and the rest of my life commitments I have made and I need to complete.
I make my way back down the stairs, my trackie pants hanging low and my baggy jumper keeping my body warm from the cold weather. I really need to invest in a bigger heater, because I don’t think the apartment management is installing ducted heating anytime soon.
A grab myself yet another red skin from my secret stash in the bag of the bottom cupboard-yes I have a secret stash, because yes I am hopelessly obsessed with redskins-and chuck myself back onto my imprinted seat on the couch, pulling my comfy duvet over my body and clicking play to my next chick flick. This time picking a funny one to try and cheer myself up a little more. The Heat, with Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy.
