indecisive (on hold)

37.

Song of the Chapter: Spaces by One Direction

"What the hell are you doing here?" He questions but his voice isn't angry. It's filled with disbelief and surprise. I'm surprised I'm here too.

Why am I here?

I open my mouth to speak but I can't even find the words. I study him instead. It's been too long since I've seen his face. The memory of his face soaked with tears and eyes lined with red haunt my dreams. But as I look at him,  I realize his eyes are the same way. There aren't tears but they're glassy and dark. Empty.

His cheekbones are more defined, face sunken in. Ghostly circles under his eyes. I don't want to know what the rest of his body looks like, I'm afraid it'll be unhealthily pale and thin. His hands hold a six pack of bottled beer. He's been drinking.

"How much have you been drinking?"

He shrugs and I frown.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"Why?"

"Harry-"

"Answer me!" He shouts and I flinch.

Why is he yelling at me?

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I care!" I shout back.

He pauses and just stares at me-dead in the eye. I shiver. His eyes glassy but thick with emotion bubbling behind them. What emotion? His mouth is slightly agape. I can see the dark pink in his lips; they're chapped and cut in various places. His lip ring still holds its place, pierced into his skin. I had almost forgotten it was there. That would be a shame; I find it so attractive. The skinny black ring adding a beautiful contrast to his skin. I look away and I see a dark bruise on the left under side of his jaw.

What the hell?

"Harry, where did that bruise come from?"

He doesn't say anything. He just stares back at me, eyes wavering slightly.

"Harry," I state firmly. "Where did you get that bruise?"

He opens his mouth to speak. I'm growing impatient. Did someone hurt him? Was this an accident? Or is he hurting himself? My eyes immediately dart to his arms but they're covered by his clothing and I grow more anxious.

"You care?"

My eyes snap up to his face, not expecting him to speak but very pleased. I frown again at him.

"You don't think I care about you?"

He lowers his head and shifts on the balls of his feet. His silence is all I need. Was I that neglecting? To the point that he believed I didn't care about him? I'm an awful person. He thinks this because of me! What have I put him through? I'm so selfish. I never considered how he could be feeling. I was too busy wallowing in my own depression and self-destruction. I'm an awful person.

"Yes, Harry. I do care about you."

"Why?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"A lot of reasons."

"Such as?"

He doesn't answer me. Again, we're left silent. It seems like we spend a lot of time like that. He looks away, eyes falling to the pavement. I can see his eyes trace the cracks in the concrete. I look too and remember how perfect it looked when I first walked up to his house. Looking now, I can see how damaged it truly is when you get a closer look. People are the same way. There's imperfections in everything, but we are all completely oblivious. I always found that sad.