Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Chapter 2: Aftermath

"Okay, you can do this just take a deep breath and..."

"Yeah I'm sorry, but I can't do this, not here at least, " I drew in a shaky breath and leaned up against the rough brick wall.

"Here, take this, it will calm your nerves." Harley extended his cigarette towards me as a sort of peace offering. Or at least that's how I looked at it as I flicked it into the puddle at my feet. He put on his cool guy face as he glanced at the soggy, half finished cigarette.

"You know you could've politely declined my offer"

I rolled my eyes and pretended to ignore his remark. "What happens when all you know is a lie?" I tilt my head and stare into Harley's rigid appearance. The thought has always troubled my mind, and tonight seemed like the time to let it loose.

"Well, do what everyone else seems to do and write a best selling book series." Harley chuckled and cocked his head back. Somehow I missed him pulling out another cigarette and lighting it. He took a long drag, the fire lit tip illuminated his face in a sort of devilish glow. It passed before I could pin down any thoughts. I continued to stare on, frozen as he glanced back at me and sent his vapor onto my face. The smoke curled up my nose and rolled into my eyes. I stared on as though that was the most natural thing to happen. In all reality I could feel the itch beginning to form in my throat and lungs.

 I fought the urge to cough as my eyes welled up with tears. My mind chastises me for torturing myself so long to seem cold in his eyes. My body seized with a coughing fit. I bent over at the waist and fought for clean air to penetrate the chemicals floating inside me. I felt his warm hand rub my back and offer a false sense of comfort. In this cold weather I would usually cling to any heat I could get, but he only offered a few seconds relief. If anything the absence of his hand left me more cold than when I was before. After the wave of nausea passed over me I resurfaced and straightened up. Gone were the fake sympathetic gestures, now he just looked annoyed.

"You know my grandfather died of lung cancer. You also know because of that I don't smoke. Yet, you decide to offer me a cigarette to "calm my nerves". I made air quotes with my fingers. "And when I refused your offer you literally decided to blow the smoke in my face." I stared deep into Harley's eyes watching my words take affect. 

I reloaded and got ready to take aim at his heart. "You are too young to have to worry about dying, you need to stop poisoning yourself. And you know what, you need to stop poisoning everyone around you. You're toxic and you know it. You draw people in and get them hooked. And at the moment they trust you completely and fall, you back away. You leave them shattered on the ground, waiting for someone to pick up the pieces. I'm still here because I messed around and got addicted to the pain." I spat out the last word and crossed my arms to shield myself from his next move.

Harley took in a sharp breath like the air around us was too cold and hurt his lungs. His eyes narrowed as he straightened his posture. He towered over me, but I refused to look up at him.

"Can't you take a joke?" His words came out hard and deep. He came ready for battle too. "I remember your grandfather dying of lung cancer. I also remember being there in the aftermath helping you out of the rubble. Haven't you ever wondered why I smoke when I do? Or even why, especially after hearing about your grandfather going through all of that? Don't bother apologizing, save your precious breath. Don't ask me now either, I'll just tell you. But on one condition, you answer my question first." 

Harley's voice sounded rugged and raw, it made me really look at him for the first time in weeks. Under the dim street lights he looks yellow. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Then let his hand drop down to rub his chin where a 5 o'clock shadow was hiding out. I let my gaze fall before he caught me staring. His shirt caught my eye though, it looks crumpled like it's been sitting on the bottom of a hamper for a week. I shuffled my feet as I let my gaze fall further. I pretended to be lost in thought for a second before I responded.

"Okay, what's your question?" I can't tell if I said it in my head or I actually uttered the words. My voice came out so soft it blended with my breath.

"Why couldn't you do it?" He dropped his stub of a cigarette on the ground. And crushed it under his heel as he turned toward the object in question. I turned too and we stared in silence at the empty brown bottle that lay tilted on its side by the dumpster.

That morning had been a rough one for me. I was frustrated and in a bad mood and I took it out on Harley. He ignored me after that. When the sun had set Harley reemerged in my inbox. He strongly insisted I go out with him into the city that night. He brought me to this alleyway behind his favorite restaurant. 

It's "his spot" he comes here when he's mad at the world. He told me he likes to break things, it makes him feel better. So rather than breaking his fist, he breaks bottles he finds here. The restaurant manager doesn't care as long as he cleans up his mess. Harley thought the same would work for me. Which is sweet in it's own way I guess. When we got here he told me to pick up the dingy bottle and throw it against the opposite wall.

"This is your spot, and breaking stuff is your thing, plus I...I.. already break everything I touch for once I wanted to see something whole." I put my head in my hands and sighed. I slid down the wall. My shirt caught on the rugged bricks and slid up. I didn't bother moving it back down even though the frigid air made me shiver. I heard Harley chuckle from somewhere above me. "Before you say anything, yes I understand how cheesy that sounds," I said quietly

To be continued...