Kill Or Be Killed // McHarrison

Tweleve

"I'm sorry," I gulp. "I have a very bad tendency to fall in love."

George blinks. His lips were parted slightly as his eyes soaked through mine. He swallows thickly before opening his mouth, but nothing comes out and he closes it again like a fish in water. I hold my breath in anticipation for his answer, dreading what was to come. He'd fist stand up, yelling horrible, horrible names, then back-hand me across the face and leave in disgust. I was preparing for it already, shying away from him in my seat.

"Paulie!"

I turn to see Heather beside the table, in her pyjamas and with shock scrawled all over her face. Her blue eyes twitch over from me to George and back again, before she slowly, cautiously makes her way towards me. Like I was poisonous, she keeps her distance but comes to stand beside my chair.

"Dad says boys who kiss boys go to hell." She whispers and from the corner of my eye I see George's eyes widen; as do mine. Little Heather's face melts, her lip turning downward and her eyes squeezing closed as tears wheeze their way out between her blonde lashes, throwing herself at me at gripping my shirt in her fingers. "I don't want you to go to hell." she sobs into my chest, and I hug her shoulders.

"Oh darlin'," I whisper, glancing at George quickly before kissing her blonde bed hair. "Boys can kiss boys, love, it just happens sometimes." I gently explain and lift her onto my hip, standing and heading into the kitchen; to get her calmer but also to hide my embarrassment from George. I wouldn't be surprised if I heard the door slam shut again as he left, but this time I suppose I wouldn't stop him.

I've really messed up.

It came without any thought. It was like I was on my fucking period! I'm emotional and hormonal and, frankly, I was acting like a teenage bird.

But I really couldn't be damned trying to act my age at a time when things are so confusing and completely muddled up, both with George's mystery release and how I started feeling about him. Feelings, feelings, feelings, they always seem to play against me.

"Yer want a drink, Love?" I whisper, sitting her small body on the breakfast bar, and reaching for a glass. She nods, now in a better mood. As I hand her her glass of water, I let my head fall in my hands.

"Sorry what I said, Paulie. I wasn't very nice." She tenderly whispers, shifting over on the bench to wrap her small arms around my shoulders. Smiling tiredly, I hug her back, digging my face into her mat of blonde hair. "Are you sad, Paulie?" she breathes after a small while of silence. Sighing, I nod slowly.

"A little bit, Darling." I say softly, brushing her hair from her face lovingly.

"Because Joj didn't kiss you back?" she guesses, tilting her head as she looks at me, trying to read my face. Smiling gently at her, I grab some bread and jam from the cupboard behind her.

"There's a lot of things that make me a little sad sometimes." I breathe and kiss her forehead.

"Am I one of the things that makes yer sad?" Little Heather mumbles timidly, fiddling with the glass in her hands and looking down ashamedly.

I frown at her for a second and stop what I'm doing. "Why do yer ask that, baby?" I gently say, but she doesn't answer. Lifting her chin with my finger, I stare right into her blue, infantile eyes. "Yer will never, ever be something that makes me sad, darlin'. Yer make me the happiest man alive, okay? Please don't think that." I utter in a small voice.

"Okay, Paulie."

Grinning, I continue to make her breakfast. But once she's happily eating her toast on the bench, I swallow nervously and hesitantly, opening the door to the dining room, where George stood just as nervously as I felt next to the window. His eyes shot up as he heard me, and my cheeks immediately fell a bright red. I gulp down the fear in my throat and squeak: "Would yer like breakfast?"