04 | THE TALK

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Disclaimer: I only own my two characters (Livia and Sawyer) and their plot lines. The rest of the credit goes to Netflix and the creators of The Society.

Chapter Four

THE TALK


LIVIA'S HAND RAPPED AGAINST HARRY'S front door, her heart clogged in her throat. She had never been this anxious while standing on her best friend's doorstep. Out of the trio, it was usually Kelly or Harry that were partaking in the arguments while Livia tried to get them to work out their issues. Not that Livia is completely innocent, but she isn't used to confrontations.

"Harry?" Livia called out, her voice carrying in the early morning air. "It's Livia, can we talk?" She waited a couple of moments before moving to the plant where she knew the key to the house was. She shook the dirt off her hand and inserted the key into the lock.

She entered the large, cold house. Her footsteps echoed throughout the downstairs. Her friend was nowhere to be seen.

"Harry?" The girl asked again, slightly grimacing at the state of the house. Dirty dishes were piled around the kitchen and living room, and there was clumps of trash in various spots as well.

She heard a banging sound come from the upstairs room. A couple of seconds later, footsteps came pattering across the hall and down the stairs. A head finally poked around the corner, and Kara's breath caught in her throat. Harry looked absolutely terrible.

"Livia," the brunet murmured, "I thought you weren't speaking to me." Livia repressed the urge to immediately start yelling at him, mainly because her concern for him was stronger than her urge to argue.

"We're putting that threat on pause for the next couple of hours," Livia told him, her eyes tracking him as he slowly walked down the stairs. He stopped several steps above from where she was standing, making him appear to be a couple of feet taller than he actually is.

There was a minute of silence between the two, the pair standing there in an awkward tension. Now that she was closer to the boy, she could see the big, purple bags under his eyes and the bloodshot look that accompanied them.

"What do you want Livia?" Harry sighed finally, "If you're here to argue with me again, please just go. I don't think I could take that today." He waved a hand at her in a dismissive manner.

"No, Harry, I'm not here to yell at you," Livia told him, moving a step towards the stairs. "I just wanted to make sure you are okay."

Harry regarded her for a few moments and then walked down the rest of the stairs. "Well, it doesn't really matter. I guess I'm fine."

Harry finally landed on the last step, and locked eyes with Livia. She huffed out an exhale.

"It's obvious that you aren't," Livia told him. "You shouldn't try and lie to me, I know you better than anyone left in this town."

Harry shrugged at her, helplessness written all over his face. "Then what do you want from me?"

"I want you to talk to me!" Livia burst out. "I want to be able to help you dumbass, but I can't do that if you continue being difficult!"

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