camp cherry | hs

thirty five

look at this man and his dimples

✩︎

HANA

The next morning I finally give in and inform Nadia on the situation with Harry, careful not to reveal too much about his family life as it's clearly something he holds close to his heart and it isn't for me to share, although I tell her the rest of it. Her and Ella are both outraged - even though Ella already knew, the rehashing of the story seems to get her mad all over again.

Harry still isn't here. He shows up at dinner, however, the day dragging on and on, each second seeming to last hours and my appetite lost; I haven't spoken or even seen Harry in well over 24 hours, and it's fucking painful - I'm having Ella to remind me every hour that it's for the best, he needs time to sort himself out and then he'll sort us out, he'll fix the mess he made. That's what she and myself are trying to convince my anxiety-ridden brain, anyway.

Maybe he doesn't want to fix it. Maybe it wasn't his dad getting into his head. Maybe he really blames me.

The thought had sent me into a mini downwards spiral between lunch and the afternoon activity, Kimi stumbling upon me and attempting to comfort me before she gave up and ran to find Ella, who gave me her one of her best bone-crushing hugs and listed all the reasons why Harry is a massive dickhead.

He appears rather shameful, his curls all out of place and his eyes incredibly puffy, his face setting even more miserably when he sees my dull stare into the table and the death glares he gets from both Ella and Nadia. Taylor doesn't seem to have a clue what was going on.

"What's happened?" he asks halfway through dinner, Harry having to drag him away to another table after an awkward interaction where he had sat with us as if everything was alright.

Both of the other girls sat with me glance to me for direction, and I simply shrug dimly, "ask Harry."

"Did he do something?"

"Yes, he did, actually—" Ella blurts out tersely, and my eyes sting with tears.

"Taylor, - everyone, actually - chill out. I'm waiting for him to grow up and explain," I reveal dejectedly, all three of them sighing sympathetically, which really just makes me feel like a child whose parents had just been divorced, "don't do anything, please. This is between us." Harry clearly notices our chatting, glancing over and breathing deeply as if to control himself from joining, which would no doubt escalate into shouting. "He doesn't want to sort it out, he doesn't want me anymore because it's my fault," I'd tried my best not to say or think such things that sounded identical to something I would've said about my middle school boyfriend of three days after we had got into the smallest fight, but it's really the only thing I can think anymore.

He doesn't want me. If he did, he would've at least tried to let me know, silently and in a way that couldn't possibly be noticed by Carl, that this is being forced on him. He hasn't done anything of the sort. He hasn't even attempted to speak to me.

"No, Han, it's not your fault at all. He's just being a dumb fuck In a few days or maybe even hours, he'll figure out what's going on in his head and he'll come to get you," Ella reassures me.

"There's no point in calling him immature names when he's acting like a child already. I know you want me to be mad or something, but I don't believe any of that was really him."

She nods in acceptance of my approach to this situation, one I hadn't ever imagined. In the short time I've known Harry, I've never imagine us genuinely fighting and I have no clue how to deal with this efficiently.