ambivalent | hes

10

HARRY'S POV

When I woke up, Lyla was still asleep. Her long, brown hair was laid out like a fan on the pillow and she had most of the blanket twisted around her delicate frame. The sight forced a smile to my face. I really liked her, ever since the day I saw her I knew she was absolutely amazing.

I settled back down next to her, gently wrapping my arms around her waist, not wanting to disturb her. Her small body shifted in my arms as she repositioned herself, using my chest as a pillow. Eventually, I slowly went back to sleep.

I opened my eyes again hours later, to find Lyla awake, playing with my hair.

"Good morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well?" I greeted her.

"Of course, I was beside you the whole night." She smiled, her fingers tracing the outline of the butterfly tattoo on my chest.

I watched as her pointer finger made its way around the edges of the insect, curiosity taking over her features.

"Harry, why do you have so many tattoos?" She questioned.

I looked at her, confused.

"I mean it's not a bad thing to have them, it's just you have so many. What made you get them?" She asked instead.

I looked at the ink that marked my body. They all held a special meaning to me, only a few were foolishly gained by letting friends apply them out of drunken acts.

"I guess just as reminders. Of things from the past that hold importance to me." I told her.

She nodded, her eyes scanning over the tattoos that dotted my left arm.

"And because I let my dumb ass friends give me some one night." I added.

She laughed, the sound seemed to light up the room.

When no further questions were asked, I said,

"Are you hungry?"

She looked me in the eyes then, fear becoming visible on her face.

"Harry, I have to go home." She said, quickly getting out of bed.

"Now?" I asked.

"Yes, now. Hurry, please." She told me as she quickly put her clothes back on from yesterday.

I got out of bed and went to my closet, grabbing something to put on quickly.

She basically dragged me out of the house and to the car. I started it and looked at her. Her gaze was out the window, her hand tapping the seat nervously. Something serious must be happening. I'll have to ask her about it later. I pulled out of my driveway and hurried to her house.

LYLA'S POV

I rushed inside once we reached my house. I grabbed the bottle of pills, and in a desperate attempt to quickly open it, I spilled some on the floor.

"Fuck." I muttered as I dropped to my knees.

My shaking hands moved quickly from one pill to the next, quickly trying to place them back in the bottle.

"Lyla?" The deep voice that I was dreading to hear until this incident subsided spoke.

I looked up at him, worry in his eyes.

I put the last of the pills in the bottle, slowly getting back up.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Harry, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't." I explained. I could feel tears welling in my eyes and fuck, I knew this would happen.

"It's fine, babe. You don't have to tell me. It seems personal."

But I had to. If we were going to be anything, whether it be friends, or more, he had the right to know. So after I took my pills, we sat in the living room, and I informed him of everything. From the symptoms to the diagnosis, and he was so understanding, just taking all of the information in.

"Wow, so you have to take them everyday?" He asked of the pills.

"Yea." I answered.

He just nodded.

"Harry, I know that was a lot, and I'm sorry if I put all of that on you to early. But if I told you that I could possibly die later than sooner-"

He used two fingers to gently lift my chin up so I was looking at him. The look in his eyes was sincere, filled with care.

"Lyla, this doesn't change anything between us. I still like you, a lot in fact. You're a beautiful, amazing girl, and nothing can change how I feel about you. I want to know you, and this is a part of you that I'm happy I got to know."

I smiled, my eyes slightly beginning to water. No one had ever expressed their feelings towards me like this before, especially since my diagnosis. It had always seemed to steer people away, due to the fear of losing me, no matter how many times I had assured them that the pills worked properly all my life. But that didn't seem to matter to Harry, adding to the list of things that made me like him.

He pulled me into a hug, rubbing my back in comfort.

"How about we go do something fun?" He asked when he pulled away, wiping a tear away that had escaped my eye.

"After last night, I'm sure our definitions of 'fun' are different." I responded, lightening the mood.

"Oh, you didn't like it when I kissed you?" He teased.

My cheeks heated up, and I didn't know how to reply. Instead, he smiled and took my hand

"Let's go, Lyla."