Human

Chapter 32:
(This chapter is a little back and forth, and pretty short, sorry)


Up until recently, school was primary in my life style. This had to change or adjust based on my schooling. I'm proud to say I graduated high school at the top of my class. Allowing me to complete nearly half of my college credits at my high school. Thankfully that supplies a cushion, around this years courses. After spontaneously popping into classes for the last view weeks, today I was going to get back in the routine.

Harry and I awoke to the ringing been of my alarm. Swatting arms of lackadaisical bodies trying to turn the damn thing off. With the both of us in a later class, always made my day a little bit better. No matter how much word and effort I had to put in my work, seeing Harry at the end of the day was relaxing.

Mornings usually move slowly for me, but after what seemed like two minutes, turned out to be forty. The morning gone like the night sky. Soon enough I was seated in my classes, learning all about things nobody cared about. While secretly finding a way to sneak out.

Soon enough I found myself fighting off sleep. Who knew that the vicious voice of college instructors could put you to bed? Thankfully, the class ended shortly, and I finally could see Harry.

From down the hall you could see Harry's lanky figure waiting outside the class. His body bent over his phone, in his hands. Sprinting up to him I tried my best to scare him. "Boo!" I shouted near his face.

He gave me this sassy, condensending look. "What are you, four?"

"Yeah." I told him straight up. No need to argue about my maturity when I practically am a four year old on the inside. With that I smirked and took my seat inside the class.

Our professor having a giddy smile made me completely nervous. Either A) we have taking a test, B) he just one the lottery, or C) he's excited over work. Hopefully it was letter B, and he quits his job.

"Good afternoon students. Today we will be starting a new project. It ties into more of the psychology side of things, but will defiantly help you out." He didn't even spare a breath. "Many of you are familiar with the common book, Wreck This Journel. For this project, we will be taking words out of books, newspapers, mouths. And using them to support or create pieces to help complete the pages." Our professor was a little too excited over this easy project. Probably because it seems fun to him, and he doesn't have to teach or correct anything of ours. "I have written up special, custom made books for all of you. Some pages may all link together, others could be entirely different. And please take this seriously, we will be turning these in and writing a four page paper over this assignment. Questions?"

This project seemed to have no significance to the rest of the curriculum. But hopefully it was going to be fun and easy. "Are you starting from the back?" I laugh as Harry looked as bored as ever.

"Yeah, I rebel." Harry mocked himself, "Everything I could never tell you..." He read the header. I chuckled and turned to my own page, stating the work.


A Week Later...
Harry's P.O.V

I've spent a week, every night staring at this same page. Everything I could never tell you... If I could never tell someone these things in the past, how could I possible write them all down and expect for others to read it? It's seems a little redundant to me. I know I can't explain my story even if I tried. To me the things that should remain hidden, are the things that once used to be on public display. Everyday it seems as if my background is finding to ways to resurface. At times I wonder why it even matters. The more people ask, the more it hides. Yet, sometimes I wish i could live a simple life. An open book where i don't need to worry about things coming back to bite my in the ass. But if its has always be a recluse, why open it out?

If I were to tell you all my secrets, would you want to listen?

No, or at least I There's something I like about mysteries, the oblivion. If you knew everything in the world, wouldn't you get bored? Tired of knowing?

So how am I suppose to put my life on paper? That's a question I still face, Sunday at midnight. And I need answers fast. "Paris, let's play a game." I called her down from her bedroom to my current position in her living room.

"Hmm?" Paris rubbed her eyes in her sleepy state.

"As the night goes on, the truth comes out. Let's play a game of twenty questions. Every skipped or unanswered questions result in a sweet manor. " I pushed my books aside. They were irrelevant right now.

"Does it give you a leg up considering the fact that I'm half asleep?" Paris calmly argued.

"No. If anything, you have the upper hand because you will be more truthful." I shrugged.

"Haha, you have a leg up, and I have the upper hand." Paris laughed to herself. "Just start." She instantly stopped giggling after I didn't react.

"What's your biggest fear?" My questions were meant to be taken seriously, and hopefully the lack of sleep would effect her too much.

"I hate being judged." Paris slowly rolled off her coach an into the floor. Dangled all up in her beloved blanket. "Like when people think different about you because of something. Or they take like a quick glance at you, and think bad about you."

Originally I hadn't planned on responding to any answers. But I felt as it was my job or duty to tell Paris otherwise. I hold a special spot in her life, my words are valid. "Your time is way too valuable to be wasting on people that can’t accept who you are." Time is the only thing that has the ability to change your life. "Don’t take anything personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering."

"Fair enough." Paris looked so cute and peaceful as her droopy eyes struggled to stay open. The fact that she's staying awake for me, means that this conversation is in someway important. "So, what's yours?" She was able to put on a small smile.

"Expressing the truth." I said lazily. She shouldn't think too much of it. "As Anaïs Nin wrote...When others asked the truth of me, I was convinced it was not the truth they wanted, but an illusion they could bear to live with.”

"When I agreed to this 'game' I didn't realize it would soon become real deep and poetic." Paris coiled up all warm and cozy.

"I'm sorry Paris," I kissed her forehead. "Just go to sleep." I hoisted her limp body up and carried Paris up to her bedroom.

Sprawled out all over her desk and floor were pieces of paper. From a glance; notes, poems, letters, homework. But one specific letter stood out to me.

Crinkled up, written over and over again. Messy handwriting scribbled over, erased and replaced. The header, nearly recognizable. Everything I Could Have Told You...

The subject similar to mine. The meaning completely different. Bolded words such as: Fear, Trust, Broken, Danger, Unknown, Fire... Caught my eyes. That's all it took, late at night, to set me off.
I was going to write my real emotions and history, but now looking at Paris's degrading paper, it was tine to blow off steam.

Everything I could never tell you...

The minute you walked into that door, cowering behind Casper, I thought this was a joke. We didn't want you here. In fact, that first night you were coming to a party with us, I knew the two guys were going to do something to you. That fight was a mere game of druken minds to get Niall away. And all the things I said to you, lies. I didn't care if I inflicted pain. I hoped that would have been the last time I saw you. We didn't need a little pussy hanging around us. We still don't. But we kept you around, thought we could have some fun. The nerf war was all set up, and frankly, winning meant absolutely nothing. You were that source of entertainment we needed. A distraction...


Paris's P.O.V.

...I'm glad you fear me.

What the bloody hell?

I am beyond confused and absolutely furious. I went to bed last night, after being carried to my room by Harry. And I wake up to a letter from the devil. The hate and lies that I've been fed, were released. What even happened to us? To him?

Storming around the building in a desparate search for this beast. We need to talk. "Do you guys know where Harry is?" I frantically questioned, trying not to look like too much of a psycho. Nobody knew, but I know of one person who would. "Where is he?" I broke into Niall's room, expecting an answer.

"Harry? He told me he was going out. Thought you would be with." Niall shrugged, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. "Something about a bar I think." He yawned, waking back to bed in only his boxers and socks.

"Do you know which bar he usually goes to?" I persisted on.

"He normally doesn't drink, but we used to hit up this pub across town..." Niall drifted back to sleep.

"Niall please, what's the name of the place or directions?" I shook him back and forth violently.

"Have Liam drive you, I'm real tired. Night!"

About thirty minutes after ferreting details from Niall, I was able to get Liam to drive me. This pub was a classic bar located on the far side of down, alongside the river. Supposedly it's very popular and often packed to the maximum, so finding Harry, even in the morning, could be a difficult task.

"Thanks Liam, I'll be bringing back Harry, hopefully. See you in a little bit." I gave him a friendly good bye hug.

The pub was nearly empty, which was a complete relief. Out of he corner of my eye, I spotted Harry playing pool with an older looking man. He turned to get a swig of his beer before taking his next shot. But I was too quick, hitting the black 8 ball in the far right corner before he could, winning the game.

The old, Santa looking man, laughed and cheered. "We need talk. Hopefully your parter could let you take a little break." I smiled and dragged Harry out of the doors and onto the patio anyway. "What the bloody hell is this?" I sneares, throwing his crumpled up note at his chest.

"I read your fucking letter. All about how scared you are of me, thinking I can't be trusted like some sort of weasel. How I'm going to burn and break you down like a fire. I get it, you hate me!" Harry's raspy and annoyed voice spit down at me. His drunken body two inches away from mine.

"Did you even read the whole thing? That's not at all what I said! But this? This whole time I've been here, you lied? Everything, some part of your entertainment!" I screamed back at him.

"Baby, you know that note was fake." Harry chuckled, taking another swig of his beer. He had a stupid smirk and leaned in to grab my arm.

"You're a pig!" I threw his bottle to the ground. "You're coming home with me right now and your going to fucking read the whole letter and tell me the bloody truth."

Harry grabbed my wrists his tight grip cutting off the circulation in my hand. "You don't get to tell me what I do."

I didn't back down today. I was too enraged to let this one blow past me. No matter how defiant and stubborn he was as a druken man, I was dragging him home with me. "Well today I am." My hands were too quick for him to comprehend. Snatching his keys from his pocket and twisting his arm behind his back. "Maybe if you weren't so drunk, you could put up a fight." I taunted, pushing him towards his own car. "But you made one too many mistakes this time." I shoved him into the back seat and locked the doors.

On the drive home I called up Niall. He would be a helpful source of hands today if he complies. "Hey, Niall? I need you to get the spa area ready. And if you wouldn't mind some water, pain killers, and some rope please. Thank you!"

Oh, druken little Harry... You were in for a real treat.

Notes

School is a change. My summer after my trip was filled with new friends, manly guys, and new experiences. I stopped writing for a long time and did things I never would have. Sorry for not writing!

xoxo