she has had time to think about it all ____ cassandra , blood spilled on the pavement for nothing . her sister , saved by medecine , saved by pills , by doctors , by 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙻𝚄𝙲𝙺 . and then . her sister , killed because of too many words spit by an angry boy , killed because they were all getting antsy , and one of them finally 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 . killed , because dewey had nothing better to do . killed , because . because . how was that a fucking reason ? how was it FAIR ?
and then there’s harry . disappearing under covers & pillows . not gone yet but almost , slowly giving away pieces of himself because it is easier than bear them on his own . she can see it : the key cars , the job , never going out , never facing anyone . it’s not like allie does not know how it feels like ___ not long ago , she was not leaving her fucking house either . but 𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙵𝙰𝙸𝚁 . she has gotten up , she has done the terrible , terrible job of leading them , despite wanting to burn the whole place to the ground for having let her sister be murdered . harry does not deserve to stay there , hidden . he has to get up . 𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙪𝙥 . she needs him to fucking get up .
so she snaps . she does not move from her place on his bed , eyes on the ceiling as if the whole thing was going to fall on their face ( if only ) . it’s better to look at the blank canvas than at harry’s silhouette , despite both of them being devoid of life . she feels better about not watching harry while she does what she does best : 𝙱𝙴𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙽 𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙴 , speaking too fast , saying all these things she’s not sure she even means .
he says 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 and she smiles a little , because he did , and it hadn’t been that good , it had felt rushed and wrong and 𝘋𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘉𝘈𝘋 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕𝘚 . but she would give anything to go back to that instant , when things were easier . when harry’s lips were not used to say angry things at her , or to dewey . soft hands on her waist , on her hips . it had been too quick , and not really about her ( he’d been thinking about kelly , surely . ) but it had been something . something GOOD .
eyes finally turn to look at him . sweatshirt on . finally vertical . standing . she stares , can’t stop staring . god , she can’t believe 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 . ‹ i’m not perfect . i don’t ___ i’m not even trying to be anymore . i used to , because cass was around and she didn’t even have to try , you know , she just was !!! and to be honest , i don’t even care about the job . 𝙸 𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝙸𝚃 . or anything else , really . losing cass has felt like ____ like 𝘿𝙔𝙄𝙉𝙂 , except i don’t get to fucking REST forever . › she looks at him , wants him to understand . but she thinks that if anyone in this cursed town can understand her , it’s harry . she breathes in through her nose and digs into her pocket , holding the keys for a second before breathing out . ‹ yeah . happy . and i’m sorry for … uh , what i said . i shouldn’t have . › &. @feltanger
both are empty vessels for different reasons . harry , so full of nothing and everything at the same time ; a boy drowning for so long that he’s resorted to sinking instead of saving himself . and he sinks deep into the void , into a trench that he could claw his way out of , if he really tried . he can see it now : nails caked with dirt and blood , body torn to bits from the guilt pulling him back , bare feet bearing the pain of walking on broken glass from all of his shattered mistakes . grief does not give him the benefit of the doubt .
she says she isn’t perfect and harry begs to differ , but his voice fails him . she’s stepped up when there was no one else fit to run a crowd of vultures . she’s gotten back up more times than he ever would have , if he were even given that many chances . harry can’t think of someone more perfect than allie pressman at the moment , even through all of her weaknesses and impulsivity . perhaps his judgment is clouded by the smoke of his porsche’s engine , taking him back to a time much simpler : a time where they were just them . air filled with drunken laughter and secret touches beneath the sheets of the very bed that remained in front of his figure –––– he remembers it like it’s yesterday . he also remembers what happened afterwards . harry can recall shy and stolen smiles in the kitchen , lips pressed together separately to conceal their previous whereabouts .
there’s a moment where harry’s just listening . he lets her vent , lets her talk about cassandra . it sends a flood of nightmarish memories through him , recollection of the girl’s death coming in waves every so often . it hits him all at once or it does not hit him at all . they share one more commonality : grief and guilt will not let them rest . and for a few seconds , his eyes meet hers again , manifestation of understanding in the form of a soft gaze ; a moment of weakness .
a nod is given at her apology , something barely visible , but present . then silence falls over the room . harry’s eyes cast downwards , fingers fidgeting just barely in front of the pockets of his hoodie as eyebrows furrow . ❛ i’m sorry . ❜ the apology falls . the crack in his voice can’t be feigned , can’t be summoned in order to instill guilt . if anyone deserves to see this side of him , it’s allie . ❛ i’m so fucking sorry , allie . ❜ jaw juts out , head shaking a few times as harry tries to find the right words –––– are there even right words in this situation ? ❛ if i’d just … kept things to myself , cassandra would be … ❜ eyes lift , but his words trail off once he’s looking at her again . lips press together to stop himself before harry takes a moment to think .
❛ i’ll try , if that’s what you really want . i promise . ❜ oh , but are his promises full this time ?
