Addiction

chapter twenty three

CHAPTER 23-

 

HARPER’S POV:

Its been a month; and I finally redyed my hair.

The advanced hours, days and weeks that have past seemed to glide by blissfully in my eyes. Well not really, but for the first time I can say im enjoying the air that I breathe more than I did before I was on my own.

As Blake comtinues raging on how his supposedly best-mural-he’s-ever-painted has now been painted over, leaving the wall with a shit octopus and aztec design; I cant help (yet again) but fall into a trance with his facial features. Admirable. I feel a love. There is a love there I feel within me surfacing, but I push it down so I doesn’t come up.

I stand in front of him unamused as he stops and approaches me with a peck to the nose.

My smiling from the sudden affection halts and turns into a scowl as he once again, continues his rant.

Just three weeks ago Blake got into a fight with his Dad over something he still wont tell me about no matter how angry I got. It left him with a fucked up eyebrow, littered with stitches.

In a sense I’m upset but relieved all at the same time that I didn’t witness the hostility between the two. I came home to the idoit heavily breathing with anger on the couch, ripped shirt, bloody eyebrow and more glass sticking out of his just healed forearm. My person strongly gathered that he got worked up after the complication and smashed his fist through the back sliding door of the main house.

As I unwarily still stare; I gaze with depict at the wound on his brow. Its such a noticeable imperfection on his face, but I cant help but look at it with awe.

I went through that hardship with him, no one else. Ive been nurturing his emotions, his to my own. He, aswell as myself have sponanously grown in way. I don’t know how he hasn’t got sick of me yet, really.

Andrew also floods the small space about two/ four times a week as well. And as annoying as Andy is; he is such a loyal friend, loyal person in general. Physical altercations always takes place at the front of the xbox, but vanish rather quickly with gruff, sassy insults and hysterical laughter. Only for me to be sitting on the couch giggling the whole way through with a bowl of noodles in my hand.

Fucking noodles.

“I’m sure you can paint something else again that would be just as good,” I confirm, awakening from my long chain of thought whilst rummaging through the cupboard for snacks.

“I didn’t even get to take a picture of it,” he whines, pacing back and forth behind me. His hair is looking rather flat, making the quiff type-thing he has going on the top of his head hang down, getting in the way off his posionous eyes.