How To Love Again. (Sequel to 5YIN)

-ten-

I regret it as soon as it happens. I let my wall down which I promised myself I wouldn't do. 

I feel his arms that are still plastered around me as I open my eyes. Shit. I slowly get up and compose myself as I think back to the past few hours. Did we.. No. We couldn't have. I freeze I hear the creaking of my matress and he rolls over. Still not awake. 

"Harry." I whisper at first. He doesn't get up.

"Harry." I say with a harsher tone as I shake his arm. 

"Hmm." He groans as he sits up. He rubs his eyes before looking at me.

"You have to leave." I say coldy as I look past him at the wall. I look everywhere and anywhere but at him.

"What time is it?" He asks in his have asleep tone that I always loved. But I couldn't love it anymore. I check my phone.

"10:30" 

"Oh. I guess I better get going then." He shrugged his coat on. I saw him move towards me as if he were going to kiss my forehead like he used to. But he hesitated and backed away. I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

"Bye." I said without anything behind it as he headed through my door and slammed it slightly. I'm such an idiot. 

I walked past the big fountain in the center of campus as I walked to my creative writing class. I'd been late for this class everyday and I hoped that I wouldn't be this time. But my walking pace was even slower than usual as I thought about what I did last night. I mean, I didn't do anything wrong. But I didn't help myself out either. All I remembered clearly was talking to Harry and then listening to his long rant which lead to me losing it. His words sounded genuine but I wasn't positive if they were. If he really thought about me that much, why didn't he come back? Just to let me know he was okay at least. I would've been just fine being his friend until I turned eighteen. I would have been more than fine. Or would I? We had a dangerous relationship that was always on the verge of ending. Whether it was us arguing, or it was other people trying to ruin it. He kind of stole what were supposed to be the best years of my life. 

I shook my head at my own pathetic thoughts as I headed into one of the smaller classrooms at N.Y.U. Although I was a photography major, we were required to take writing classes that could be potentially beneficial if we became part of the staff for a newspaper or a magazine or something of that nature.

"Reality. Does coming to the realization of it really help us at all? Or does it bring us deeper into denial when we choose to ignore it?" Professor Weeks clapped his hands together as he leaned against his desk all the way in the front of the room. I could hardly see him considering I sat in the very back as always. I had only spoken to him about three times. But he wasn't awful looking. I awkwardly stared at him. He had a rough appearance with his freshly buzzed brown hair and shadowing facial hair. 

"I want you to write this in your journals. At least one page. I'll give you 30 minutes before we start notes." He had us keep journals which he said he'd go through halfway through the semester.

I always used to link the bullshit that was reality to Harry.. I tried to think of something else.. But he was always kind of what kept me from seeing things for what they should be. Realistic. I got out my pen and wrote more than I could handle. 

Reality, is like standing at the edge of a cliff. You can either jump, and assume that afterwards all your problems will be solved, or you can back away and see it for what it is and come to terms with what is right. A lot of us have problems with coming to terms with what is right. It's never easy and most of the time it's never optional. We're all human and we'll choose what seems appealing. But we never think about this: what if what we find appealing won't be there to back us up in the long run? What if what we're doing now ruins us later. That's why seeing the reality of things is important because we aren't living in a world where mistakes are okay. At least not all of them. The bigger ones are what end up tearing us down. As much as I'd like to live in a world where all of my wrongs are right, that can't happen. And that's the reality of the world we're livng in.

I felt relief after that class. I walked out into the setting sun and began to walk back to my dorm when I spotted Brandon sitting on the edge of the fountain I passed earlier. I mindlessly walked over to where he was and stood infront of him. He looked past me like he had been before I got there. 

"Hello?" I waved my hands infront of him. 

"Brandon?" I touched his shoulder when he stood up and slightly towered over me. 

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't touch me." He snapped.

"What's wrong?" I questioned. My voice weak with fear.

"What's wrong? I came into your room last night to check on you because I saw Jess and she wasn't with you. I walk in and I see you. And him. In bed together." My chest tightens. I already ran out of words to say and I haven't even spoken.

"Brandon, I swear nothing happened. He was just there-"

"Oh, so you grab the guy nearest to you whenever you want? Is that what I am to you?" 

"No! It's not like that. You don't understand."

"Then let me try to understand."

"Okay! He was there and I hadn't gotten the chance to talk with him since we were together.. You don't understand. And I can't make you understand. Me and Harry are jus-"

"Oh I'm sorry I don't get your fucked up relationship with a guy who recently got married who clearly doesn't give two fucks about you!" He waved his hands infront of him. 

"Brandon!" That was all I could muster up. I was extremely taken back by his outburst and I didn't know what I could say.

"I have nothing to say to you. I really like you, Ali but I'm not putting up with that bullshit. I hope you figure this out. Because I clearly can't understand it, according to you. Let me know when you think I'm ready to understand." He dropped his hands at his side as they made a clapping sound. I thought I called out his name but nothing came out. 

I was too good at screwing myself over.

                                                                  *Harry*

Liz and I sat at our small dinner table not talking much. We weren't fighting. There just wasn't much to talk about.

"So you know my friend Ali? The photographer?" I finally spoke.

"The one that left in the midst of our wedding? Yeah I know her."

"Well.. She feels really bad about that whole thing.. So I was thinking you two should hangout." Where was this bullshit coming from and why was I saying it? This was the worst fucking idea I've ever had.

"How would that solve her guilt?" Liz looked up from her plate and looked at me really wanting an answer. 

"I don't know. I just think you'd get along really well." 

"We'll see." She smiled at me as she took my plate and hers and tossed them into the sink. She walked towards me and sat across my lap as she forcefully and unexpectedly pressed her lips to mine. Her cold hands found their way up my shirt and I tensed up as she touched me. Not repulsed by it, in anyway. It just felt forced like she knew something was wrong and she thought that by getting me to fuck her was the only way I'd be okay again. I was willing to try it.

"I think it's cute you want me and your friend to get along." She breathed against my neck. I sat there with my hands wrapped around her waist. Before I knew it I had both of us out of the chair and into the bedroom. I slammed the door shut with my foot and tossed her onto the bed before holding myself above her. If this was one way to get my mind off of Ali then I was going to do this every night until her name was something I couldn't understand anymore.