yours {h.s.} | {b1.5}

DECEMBER 22, 2019

December 22, 2019

Ridiculous night; Gracie—still struggling to get used to calling her that, though, she seems to have adapted just fine to calling me Harry—woke me up. Though, to say it was Gracie isn't inherently true. Her boy toy—Adrian Foster, I couldn't believe it. I think back to all those nights ago at the bar. I should have known that she would have left with him—was the one to wake me up when he climbed into bed with me.

I was a bit slow on the uptake. I didn't immediately understand that he hadn't understood that she had moved her room to accommodate my arrival in the house. Retrospectively, I understand, but it was a bit weird to wake up to him trying to cuddle into me.

He left and Gracie looked at me and I could tell that she was trying to figure out the most natural way to ask me to keep her secrets. Of course, she wouldn't have to ask at all. I understand the importance of a secret and besides, I owe her. I owe her quite a bit. Though, I still thought it would be fun to toy with her a bit—I said something about how I didn't want to listen to her boy problems. Mostly because I don't. But I wouldn't say no if she asked. It's a weird feeling, talking to her. Since I moved in, things have progressed nicely in our relationship.

But that's not even entirely the point of my writing.

I couldn't fall asleep after I was woken up so I went downstairs. Almost as soon as I moved in, I bought a Christmas tree. It didn't feel like the holidays in here. Back when I lived with the girls, I capitalized on every cause for celebration. I wanted them to understand that they had normal parts of their lives. I went all out. It's a habit that I've never been able to break; one that I'm not sure if I want to. Regardless, Gracie didn't seem to be the type to put in the effort but I am so I bought us a goddamn Christmas tree and set it up myself. Fortunately, she wasn't even made when I scratched the ceiling with the tree that was slightly too tall.

Anyway I went downstairs and I just laid down under the tree. I put my head under the branches and I let the evergreen smell consume me and I looked up at the lights. I don't know how long I was down there before she came down. She almost tripped on me and I could tell that I had scared her.

She scared me when she laid down next to me.

For some reason, there was this weird sensation in my heart and I just...

But I asked her if she understood and she said she did and I could feel myself calming down. Talking to her calms me down, I think. I don't miss the irony in the statement, knowing that before our odd friendship she was one of those people that could make my blood boil within seconds. We talked a bit. For the first time ever, I told her about my sisters and she took it in such stride. Surprisingly, she was eager to talk about them. She looked at me different, then. Almost as though she could sympathize with me more. I liked the change. The longer that I talked to her, the more relaxed I felt. Talking to her is easy; natural.

I said goodnight but I don't know why. I came upstairs and I've been laying in the dark for hours now, just listening to the quiet of the house. I never heard her come back upstairs. I wonder if she will.