Boulevard Of Broken Dreams [ Wattys 2015 ]

XXIX - "Trouble."

  After a long fight between Mickey and Ann, Kris decided she'd be the one to open the god damn door. Besides, the bell had been ringing for thirty seconds already. She lazily made her way, opening it to see Harry shivering in January's cold weather.

"Hey." he greeted awkwardly, his voice shaky and low.

"Oh, hey." Kris nodded and let him inside.

Things had gone really awkward since their last meet, and somehow none of them really wanted to fix the whole situation. She guided him to the living room, where Demi was sitting on the carpet, playing with the baby Ann was payed to babysit for a while. There were some toys all around them and  Demi was simply watching the little boy play, too tired and a little numb from the uncountable number of pills and needles the doctors gave her. Her hair was now dark red, her skin so pale you could see her veins if you looked closely. A smile playing on her lips and a black fedora on her head as she helps the kid get hold of his tiny plastic horse.

Harry shuffled into the room, an unfamiliar feeling on his chest as he moved closer to her. His eyes were slightly burning to see her image, how skinner she had gone in the past two months. It almost made him feel like it was his fault.

"Hi." he managed to say after taking a long breath out of his lungs.

She looked at him with a smile and waved her arm for him to come closer. He sat right next to her on the floor, his eyes barely leaving her sight. How could she manage to look beautiful after all that?

"How are you?"

"You mean, besides the cancer?" she shook her head. "Tired."

He gulped down her words and shrugged.

"He's probably the quietest child I've ever seen in my life." she spoke in a cracky and exausted voice it broke his heart, but put it together as soon  as she grinned at the small boy.

Harry simply nodded at her words, feeling somehow empty for replying.

"Your hair." he said simply.

"Looks quite real, huh?" she smiled. "I'm still not used to my shaved head so Ann brought this wig to me." she explained.

He watched as her almost happy expression turned into the saddest he had ever seen. He tried opening his mouth to say something but nothing could really comfort her in that moment.

"I miss my old hair." she laughed sarcastically at her own words. "I miss the time I was, you know, normal?"

"Demi, you are normal." he whispered putting his hand on her knee.

"I'm not." a tear rolled in her cheek. "I'm sick, and tired, and everybody looks at me with sadness and apology." she cupped her face with her palms. "And do not tell me that it's gonna be okay cause it's not. They said it's gonna be six months, or a year if I'm lucky and they were so positive about it. Like what the fuck is positive, I'm gonna die anyway."

"Please don't say that."

He pulled her into the tightest hug ever, like she was going to slip away if he didn't. Her skinny fingers dug into his shoulders and she tried to stop herself from shaking, but it didn't work. If there's one thing cancer made her, it's weak. And he tried endlessly to find the right words but nothing could ever fix her. Not ever. Soon, the room was filled with everybody else, staring muted to the scene.

"There's this... Cure...We can try it out." Harry managed to say.

"We don't have the money." Mickey responded staring at the ceiling after taking a sip of his beer.

"I can-"

"You've given us enough. We're done causing you more trouble."

"You're not." Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

"Oh yeah? Like your father's threatens weren't shit."

"Who cares what my father says?"

"What, you wanna end up fucked up and poor one day?"

"As long as it helps her, I'm fine."

"No shit." he rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands.

"At least we can prolounge it." Harry fought back the anger.

"She's gonna fucking die one day." Mickey yelled. "You can 'prolongue' this shit as long as your rich ass wants but you can't keep her away from that. The more she's gonna get fuckin' depressed, and sincerely I'm done with that. It fucking sucks."

"You think I don't know that?" Harry stood straight. "You think I don't feel her?" he stepped closer. "You think I'm not tired too from all our fuckin' attemps to get this thing better and that none has worked?

"Well then fuckin' leave it." Mickey tossed the can into trash.

"No." he whispered. "At least not now. We can't give up."

"We can't; but she already did."

"I don't care."

"Then the hell you're gonna fix the deal with your fuck of a father?"

He crashed in the couch again running a hand through his curly hair, scratching at the bottoms.

"I have an idea."

short chapter i was bored sorry ._. what ya think harry's idea is??? comment comment comment!!!!!

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