Seeing the Thing

Chapter 3

warnings: descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, bullying (including a little slut-shaming), mentions of sex

***

"What?" Tom asks, Jackie hanging off his arm.

"You're seriously going to bring a girl here without, I don't know, checking in?" Harrison asks.

"there's no sock on the door," Tom slurs, so he's drunk, of course.

"Why would there be- we're going to sleep!"

"Yeah you're sleeping alright," Jackie laughs.

"What?" Tom says, turning his head to look at her.

"Nothing, let's, let's go to my room," Jackie says.

"Aren't you both a little too drunk to be doing this?" Harrison asks, closing his laptop.

"Why's that any of your business?" Jackie says, crossing her arms over her chest, "if we can't have sex while drunk, you-," she says, pointing at Harrison, "shouldn't be having sex with her," her fingers stabs towards you.

"Jackie, does it fucking look like we're having sex?" Harrison says, hands gesturing to your fully clothed bodies.

You feel your heart start to pound, you're shaking next to Harrison, his arm around you, fingers rubbing your shoulder, trying to calm you down.

"Whatever," Jackie laughs, "just don't start spreading STDs around the campus again Y/N."

"Again? Excuse me? Get out of my fucking room," Harrison says, his jaw tight.

"Goodnight?" Tom says, unsure of what was happening in his drunken stupor.

Jackie closes the door and you hear them move down the hallway.

You finally exhale, not even realizing you weren't breathing until you felt air rush out of your lungs.

"I don't, I don't have STDs, what is, what's she talking about?"

"I don't know, it's probably just a stupid rumor or something she said to get under your skin."

"But why would she say it, why," you try to get words to move across your lips but you're at a loss. You look at Harrison, the light from the moon peeking through his window shades illuminating his face. He's frowning, eyebrows furrowed, features laced with anger and worry.

"She's not worth your time or effort getting upset about okay? She's drunk, she's not a nice person to begin with. Just, why don't we sleep, tomorrow we can start fresh, map out the rehearsal schedule and go from there okay?" He says, moving his laptop to the side table and pulling the covers over you.

"I just, Harrison who else is she telling? If she's saying this to me, what is she saying behind my back?"

"I dunno, I'm sorry, I can try to find out from other people-,"

"No I don't want you roped into this bullshit."

"Y/N, you're my best friend, you don't deserve to be talked to like that."

"It doesn't matter."

"What?" He says as you push the covers off.

"It doesn't matter, I, I'm not worth the effort it takes to keep up with me, to deal with the things being my friend comes with," you mumble, feeling your world come crashing down. This is what you always do, your mom would say. You have a friend, a really good friend for about a year or so, and then your insecurities, your anxiety, your fear of being close to someone gets in the way and ruins it. That's what happened with Ashley, with Harper, with Emily. Last summer, when you suggested you visit Harrison in London your mom laughed at you.