Philophobia
Chapter Twelve
It's been hours, and I'm still lying in bed. Question after question soared through me, as I tried to process what had happened.
Why did he want to kiss me?
Why did he ask?
Was he scared of rejection?
Is he hurt?
Was I wrong not to?
I couldn't stand laying here any longer. Hours of staring down the miss placed objects, messed and tampered with belongings have finally driven me to fix them.
I've neglected my room, my home.
My bed now made, clothes now folded, my continuing collection of books and magazines now ordered and placed properly along my shelves.
It only took minutes, but felt like hours. Or maybe it was the opposite?
After staring down my belongings, I turned only to be greeted with a familure, heavy breathing chest. My fear and adrenaline now being gulped down my throat.
"Harry," I now announced the obvious to the both of us.
His head dipped lower, allowing me to get a glimpse of his eyes which were covered in hurt, but being hidden by the amount of hours you could tell he spent at the bar. Sipping away the rejection.
His breath reeked of alcohol, and other things I'd rather not try to name.
He wasn't himself, and a complete stranger could tell you that. But for how he got here, I don't know. But I'm trapped. Pinned in between him and the wall, while he tried to make sense of himself and his own words.
"Ha-Harry, what are you doing here?" I quivered, biting my lower lip to prevent anything stupid from leaving my mouth.
His is breathing was heavy. Practically sinking my skin in the scent of cheep beer.
"You know why." He eventually spoke, almost tripping on his own words.
No sign of remorse or pain was inflicted through his tone. It was dark, and frightening.
I knew knew by this point rejecting this boy was a big mistake. Like poking a wild and untamed animal.
"You should go," I spoke softly.
"I already did go," he gritted his teeth bitterly.
"Harry, please." I whimpered, now cowarding away from the anger tension building through him.
"Be lucky I had even asked."
I knew what he was referring to. His obvious tone towards the subject only showed how much rejection hurt him.
"Now, I'm not gonna ask. And you can't run away." He muttered bitterly, using his arms as a barrier from me escaping.
"Harry, please. You can't!" I again pleaded, nearly shaking.
My my hands instinctively pressed against his chest while he continued to move closer, slowly closing all possible distance between us.
"Harry, this isn't yo-" I was cut off quick by the hard push of his lips against mine.
They were soft, and so perfect feeling. But this was wrong. I couldn't kiss him, not now, not ever.
So I faught.
Why did he want to kiss me?
Why did he ask?
Was he scared of rejection?
Is he hurt?
Was I wrong not to?
I couldn't stand laying here any longer. Hours of staring down the miss placed objects, messed and tampered with belongings have finally driven me to fix them.
I've neglected my room, my home.
My bed now made, clothes now folded, my continuing collection of books and magazines now ordered and placed properly along my shelves.
It only took minutes, but felt like hours. Or maybe it was the opposite?
After staring down my belongings, I turned only to be greeted with a familure, heavy breathing chest. My fear and adrenaline now being gulped down my throat.
"Harry," I now announced the obvious to the both of us.
His head dipped lower, allowing me to get a glimpse of his eyes which were covered in hurt, but being hidden by the amount of hours you could tell he spent at the bar. Sipping away the rejection.
His breath reeked of alcohol, and other things I'd rather not try to name.
He wasn't himself, and a complete stranger could tell you that. But for how he got here, I don't know. But I'm trapped. Pinned in between him and the wall, while he tried to make sense of himself and his own words.
"Ha-Harry, what are you doing here?" I quivered, biting my lower lip to prevent anything stupid from leaving my mouth.
His is breathing was heavy. Practically sinking my skin in the scent of cheep beer.
"You know why." He eventually spoke, almost tripping on his own words.
No sign of remorse or pain was inflicted through his tone. It was dark, and frightening.
I knew knew by this point rejecting this boy was a big mistake. Like poking a wild and untamed animal.
"You should go," I spoke softly.
"I already did go," he gritted his teeth bitterly.
"Harry, please." I whimpered, now cowarding away from the anger tension building through him.
"Be lucky I had even asked."
I knew what he was referring to. His obvious tone towards the subject only showed how much rejection hurt him.
"Now, I'm not gonna ask. And you can't run away." He muttered bitterly, using his arms as a barrier from me escaping.
"Harry, please. You can't!" I again pleaded, nearly shaking.
My my hands instinctively pressed against his chest while he continued to move closer, slowly closing all possible distance between us.
"Harry, this isn't yo-" I was cut off quick by the hard push of his lips against mine.
They were soft, and so perfect feeling. But this was wrong. I couldn't kiss him, not now, not ever.
So I faught.
Notes
This was on my phone...And. . .
I feel awful that you all haven't had an update! So.. I may update again :)
but, I have a concussion and my head hurts, and I'm tired and.. NEVER PLAY RUGBY! NEVER EVER EVER! I was basically the target at last nights game..
Oh oh!! And boys are stupid ! (Y)
COMMENT;RATE;SUBSCRIBE !!!!!! <3 thank you for your patients,
KEEP SMILING <3 -C xoxo
Please update
3/24/14