Anti Blue Skies

Last night, my only option was to sleep on the couch in the livingroom. My attempts at getting Lucy to open the bedroom door failed miserably, I tried everything. First I tried to sooth her into opening it, that lead to silence, then I mustered up my strength to bust it down, but all that proved was what I already knew, that I didn’t have any muscles. Finally, I cooked her favorite meal, macaroni and cheese with a side of mashed potatoes, but that ended up in the trash after sitting out for two hours.

I grimaced while stretching my sore limbs, the crust in the corners of my eyes was proving difficult to open them fully. I suddenly felt like crying, thinking back to the cuts on my baby sister’s arms and how ugly they were, how painful they must feel, how unfair they are.

I looked to the window, not a single star in sight. A good thing too, I didn’t need nature against me, mocking how awful I felt. As if silently crying myself to sleep wasn’t enough, the nightmare I had kept me tossing and turning all through the night, but now I couldn’t even wake up to a new, fresh day.

I was stuck.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the couch, I reaching over to turn on the lamp. A dim light filled the room, the crushed beer can was still resting on the floor, staining the carpet.

Trying to erase the memory of the fight, I pushed myself up then reached down to pick up the can, then I trudged to the kitchen, chucking it in the trash. Usually I liked to recycle, but I was physically too exhausted to take the extra few steps, it was also too dark to find my way.

I turned to make my way for my bedroom. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t still awake, crying or breaking things, not that I heard her break any of my stuff, thankfully she wasn’t the devil.

I subconsciously tip toed down the hallway, passing Quinn’s room on the way. I heard soft grunting and very heavy breathing, I could only imagine Harry was in there with her and my face fell at the mental imagine, though I wasn’t completely sure what her room even looked like. I imagined skulls, posters of old rock bands, chains and whips, maybe some black walls, and her favorite bong to add that feminine touch.

I couldn’t pass her door fast enough, but when I finally did I pushed my ear against the hard wood paneling, trying to listen for any sign of Lucy.

But I was met with nothing but silence, which I guess, was a good sign.

I couldn’t answer the one question that continued to fill my brain. Why didn’t she come to me? She knows I’m always here for her, she knows I’d never judge her, she knows I think the world of her. When girls called me names like homewrecker and whore, or poured drinks down my dress at prom, or even when they spread the rumor that I was sleeping around with our math teacher, Lucy never stopped looking up to me.

A loud sigh pushed past my throat when I stepped away, turning to go back to my spot on the couch. Maybe now that I had some reassurance I could get a good nights sleep. I started fixing my hair into a ponytail while once again passing through the hall. Quinn’s door opened so fast at the exact moment I stood in front of it, I could’ve sworn both my feet lifted off the ground for a split second.

I jerked my head to the right, just enough to be face to face with Harry. The moonlight shining in from the window on the far side of us allowed me to see him glistening with a thin layer of sweat on his face and chest, his hair was sticking out every which way, most likely from Quinn pulling it, just like the way she had at the party. The v of his shirt seemed loose and stretched out, the upper registers of his bird tattoos were in full view.

I gulped, feeling unusually out of place and uneasy and from how close our proximity was, his extremely hot body heat radiated right off of him and onto me. He was breathing heavier than I was, but I didn’t know if it was just because I was holding my breath or because he obviously just finished a long and hard workout.

“Oh, um…” I was at a loss for words. I peered past him to see the silhouette of Quinn throwing a shirt over her head, but I quickly looked back to Harry. “I’m sorry.”

I pressed my lips together, frustrated that my voice would only come out as a whisper and for whatever reason, I felt like crying again. I walked away, staring down at the floor. The door clicked and I felt Harry behind me, the warmth of him and the musk of sex following shortly behind.

I didn’t need this right now, I needed sleep, I was mentally and physically exhausted. My thighs were starting to hurt with every step I took, getting myself closer and closer to the kitchen. My eyes adjusted to the darkness well, so my steps weren’t at all hesitant. I couldn’t say the same for Harry, a bang erupted and the table shifted.

“Fuck.” He spat, clenching his toe while holding the table to keep his balance.

I rushed to him in instinct, shushing him while holding onto each of his shoulders to try steadying him. I knew how bad it hurt to stub a toe on our dining table, even more so in the dark. But I didn’t need him waking up Lucy, she needed her sleep.

“It’s okay.” He winced, straightening out a little better. “Really, though.”

“What are you talking about?” I shot him a questioning look, although he probably couldn’t see it. “Did you hit your head too?”

I almost didn’t release the light grip I had on his shoulders, but his sweat reminded me they were there. I slid them off, taking a step back.

“No, I mean, you said sorry,” His raspy voice trailed off and I could smell alcohol on his breath. “And I’m saying it’s okay.”

Honestly, I didn’t care. I was humiliated, not sorry.

My mouth went dry as he took a seat on the bar stool by the counter while I went to turn on the lights. I was in desperate need of a glass of milk before bothering to sleep.

His bloodshot eyes squinted before he vigorously scratched at them. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out the gallon of skim milk, I always liked skim because it tasted like water, sue me.

“Want some?” I asked, grabbing two cups from the cupboard.

“Skim milk?” He looked disgusted, slouching over in his seat. “Have you got any chocolate, or whole?”

“Nope.” I said popping the ‘p’ and slamming a glass of skim milk in front of him.

He sighed, and took a sip while plugging his nose. “I really hate skim.”

“Everyone does.” I stated simply, staring down at the drink in my hands.

“Well now that’s not true. You like it, yeah? Otherwise you wouldn’t keep buying this rubbish.” He licked his lips, holding the glass up to examine it further with furrowed brows.

There was no use in explaining myself if he wasn’t sober enough to realize how stupid the conversation actually was. I didn’t have the energy to be rude to him, after the fight with my sister my head was other places and I didn’t know what to do about it. I could waste time on Harry, or I could get my sleep and try to have use my time wisely on my sister.

Harry’s thick voice broke my train of thought, making me tear the cup away from my mouth. “Are you okay? You look sick.”

I scoffed, not trying to get offended but with Harry my guard was always up.

“I could say the same for you.” I tossed my empty cup in the sink and brushed past him. “You’re a mess.”

I entered the living room, falling to the couch and folding the blanket around me, shutting my eyes. The weight on the sofa shifted, causing me to open my eyes in frustration.

“Quit following me.” I blurted out, scooting further away from him.

He pulled his leg up, crossing it over the other one. His eyes drifted effortlessly to my face and his face fell agape, his breathing slowing to a normal pace. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

I stared down at my lap, twiddling my thumbs. Tears stung at my eyes and I tried my best to blink them away. Why did he have to say something. It was like someone asking what’s wrong while you’re already crying, it only makes you cry harder, then you cry because you’re crying in front of someone. It’s a wave of emotion that I really didn’t need Harry to see.

I shook my head, dabbing at my eyes.

“Lydia--” He scooted closer, wrapping a sturdy arm around my back, pulling me to him.

And I let him.

For the most part, I did a fairly good job at crying quietly, I’d be damned to have snot and drool all over his shirt. I didn’t want to wake up Lucy or Quinn, either.

It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did to have him hold me, and I would definitely regret it tomorrow, but right now I needed it more than I thought I did.

After a few minutes of crying into his side, he moved to lay me down and I could feel the heaviness of sleep taking over my body. I was so over tired, I was almost delusional and past the point of no return.

He lifted each of my legs onto the cushions and pulled the blanket up to cover them. I wiggled my toes freely and out of instinct, earning a deep chuckle from him.

I managed to push out a whisper. “Why are you helping me?”

He bent over so his mouth was positioned next to my ear. “Because as much you think I hate you like you hate me,” He fiddled with a piece of my ponytail.

“I care.”

My eyes fell shut just before Quinn called for Harry.