Masochistic Sonder | 𝐻𝒮 | Harry Styles

Chapter Fourteen: Sonder Is Difficult

Chapter Fourteen: "Sonder Is Difficult"

WANTING TO DO BASIC NORMAL activities gets harder and harder, things that used to take just a few seconds, take a lifetime to decide whether or not to do.

Selection becomes harder, the moment we realise that people: with feelings and a mind of their own, have written or created the stuff you want and that drives a person to think that they're not worthy of my pickings. If I can do it, what makes them worthy of doing it anyway better?

Accepting sonder is hard.

I wakened with a heavyweight on my stomach; I slowly tried to open my sleepy eyes, I usually didn't wake up during that time of the day.
I tried to stretch my fragile and already exhausted physique, I glanced to my right just to see Luke laying close to me in my bed, his arm rested across my stomach and his head on my chest, as I slightly lifted my head, I noticed Bastet was next to him dragged by sleep and she gave no sign of waking up soon.

How the hell did I end up like that?
I brought my hand to my face rubbing my eyes and then tiredly dropped my arm on my forehead as I looked up to the ceiling.
We must have been tired, we read so much and Luke drank so much, he was way older than me and Bastet, in his late twenties, he was more experienced, he could control himself after a few drinks, he said that he had mastered the arts of keeping his hands to himself.
He was in his late twenties, he still looked handsome.

"Had fun last night?" A deep voice asked, I quickly turned my face towards the glass door to my left, there he was William in all his beauty, his arms were crossed and he stood leaning against my desk.
I couldn't read his expression.
"Letting strangers in your house, is this your new habit or only because you trust the people Bastet trust?" He asked, he was right; I couldn't read the emotions in his face, his long hair was pushed behind, held by a big hair bubble.

I pulled my eyebrows closer together, squinting my eyes as I felt hurt in my chest, was he disappointed in me?

"I wouldn't expect this from you but your beloved, he always lets strangers in, he's always the one putting all his trust into strangers, visiting strangers and being in total denial of how dangerous they are."

I turned back to look at Luke that peacefully slept on my chest, how could he hurt me?
If Bastet trusted him, I had to but William, he was right, I started to think about what to tell him; I took in a deep breath and passed my fingers across Hemmings arm that laid across my stomach, underneath the satin covers, his skin felt so relaxed under my touch he must have felt secure too.
Was he the husband William was talking about, I questioned but I was not ready to ask him.

"Try to understand me, William, these two are the only thing that is going right in my life," I whispered trying to stand up for myself.

"What have they done in your life, Aaliyah, in what ways have they made it any better?" He asked and he called me by my birth name in a way I felt hostility toward.
"Listen, please try to answer me with honesty, what else rather than barge into your house and crash onto your bed, has it made you feel any better," he asked once again.

"Bastet's is my bestest of friend and since I've met Luke makes me not miss Italy that much," I replied.
I had just met Luke the night before and I knew that was the must stupid thing I had ever said.

"So you're trying to tell me he makes you not feel nostalgic by sleeping next to you half-naked?" he asked, sounding like he was asking himself and taking notes, rather than direct me.
"If you needed to feel something you could have-"

"I could have done what William?" I snapped in a loud whisper, convincing him to hurry up to speak his words.

He did not dare to answer my question and leaned one of his hands on the table, loading all his weight on his foot, he glanced away and looked back towards me, he took in a deep breath and let go of it.
"Do you feel anything now?" He asked.

I froze.
"Aaliyah," I realized Luke called out for my name, his voice was still mixed with sleep and I felt his hands caress my waist, I couldn't move, my trust felt like it was devouring me, the trust I gave to him consumed me and it was then insufficient.

I slowly turned towards William, who stood there with no emotions in his face and with his arms crossed, I felt a warm tear drip down my cheek onto my pillow.

He's just half asleep, I said to myself.
He doesn't know what he's doing.
I had to trust his previous words, with the slightest bit of trust I had left.
I have mastered the art of keeping my hands to myself.

"Do you feel anything?" William suddenly barked at me, his eyes that were once a kind brown turned so dark, just like a deep black endless pit that if I could have ended it all, I would have scram all my hurt in it and filled its emptiness with it, his wings unexpectedly unwrapped even more and they dissipated all across my room.
His voice was loud enough to be heard inside my eardrums, they hurt, they rang as loud as the beating of my heart but I still couldn't feel anything, I felt empty.

"Scared!" I spoke my sins, once the quite was too loud, I spat them out, exactly like warm blood coughed right out of my heart, my heart was thumping so fast, it felt like a near-death experience where I'd pray onto whatever with my fingers digging into non-existent hope.

It suddenly got quiet, Luke's hands still moved across my tender body, I could still hear my heart beating, my body melted and took the same shape as the bed I laid in.
Why wasn't he talking? He must have had heard with carefulness and judged.
Had he chosen to play the role of the priest forgetting about his role of god, was he going to listen then stay quite just to give me an advice, had my sin scared him till the point he didn't want to carry any responsibility? Was I just a liability?

I was saddened, just like that time the music stopped and Harry had nothing to do but be miserable.
What a tough thing for me to say then, I had called his actions weak and the cause meaningless, now I laid there frozen by the prohibited touch of Luke, begging for a being with wings, that had no regard for the human race or his, to speak his truth.

Time was ticking.
"We'll wait for you in the living room," she said, her voice was still just like Luke's mixed with sleep, she knew something was up.
I remembered I told her that when things like that happened I'd be and I should have been getting used to handling them myself.

What could have I done?