.aightanna:
Anna raised an eyebrow when Harrison claimed that he wasn’t as pleased to see her in a bar he promoted as she had initially perceived him to be. She supposed that she was grateful for that because the last thing she needed today was Harrison gloating. Part of her expected smugness to roll off him in waves so she could practically feel his satisfaction, but he was being surprisingly put together.
She took another glance towards him and her heart gave a funny twinge at the concern evident on his face, probably because in the few seconds she’d been mentally preparing an argument to counteract his victory speech, she’d momentarily forgotten about how shit her day had been. The frown on his face made it all come crashing back down around her, the gravitas of the events hitting her in a way that made her stare resolutely at the countertop again.
As soon as the irritating sound of barstool legs scraping against the floor reached her ears, Anna let out a sigh.
“I won’t be very good company,” she warned him, even though she was never good company around Harrison and yet he still showed up anyway during even the most inappropriate times to annoy her. She wondered if her stony yet tearful expression would grant him a little bit of tact. When he mentioned her burn, she bit down on her lip.
“You can say that again,” she snorted harshly at his comment. Pressing her lips tightly together to keep fresh tears at bay, Anna resisted the urge to spit angry words at Harrison, refraining from impatiently telling him that he didn’t even know the half of it. She’d never been known for having much of a temper, but that was because, over the years, she’d taken a lot of her frustrations out on the boy sitting next to her. Her heart wasn’t really in it tonight though and her shoulders slumped at once as more tears leaked from her eyes.
“You were right,” she choked out a teary laugh and gestured to her chin. “I guess I’m not always good at my job.”
She was, of course, referring to their previous conversation when she had taunted him about what she thought was a lack of professionalism. Now the tables were turned even though she knew that Harrison would never be so cruel to tell her something like that if he knew the full extent of today’s damage. That same tendency to be complacent and a pushover had often frustrated her but she was grasping at any glimmer of hope today.
“We lost three people today,” she admitted quietly, the words sticking in her throat. “A man and two… two children.”
Heaving out a sigh, Harrison returned Anna's words with an arched eyebrow, tilting his head to the side to stare back at her in disbelief. When he'd sidled up beside her he'd been expecting some sort of retort about how he should leave, how she didn't want to see his idiot face, or didn't he have somebody else he could be annoying. He hadn't expected for her own exclamation to come, a sure sign that there must have been something wrong for her to be so resigned to the point that she wasn't even insulting him.
“Pfffttt, please. You're always good company,” he smirked, gently shifting in his seat so as to bump her shoulder against his own. “Think I'd bother sticking around if you weren't?”
Of course, the true extent to his words was no doubt lost on Anna. Everything that Harrison ever uttered towards the girl beside him was so consistently coated in teasing, merry tones, his words building a – seemingly – impenetrable wall between the side of him that he allowed Anna to see, and the side of him that he wasn't sure she would ever want to get to know. For as long as he'd known the girl he'd wanted to bring a smile to her face, clinging onto the false, forced laughter that brightened her feature at family dinner's. It was all for show, all for the benefit of their parents – or at least, on her part it was. Harrison hadn't ever needed to be insincere, or to lie, because he'd never had to try to like the girl, nor enjoy her company, because it came almost as naturally to him as breathing.
A soft gasp broke free from Harrison's lips, something harsh and aching tugging against his chest as he watched more tears spill down Anna's face. He wasn't entirely sure he'd ever seen her cry, not that he could recall. He so hopelessly wished that there was something he could do, some way that he could take away the pain of whatever was bothering her, even to put her at ease in some capacity, if only she'd let him.
“Nah, that can't be true,” he shook his head, frowning in response to her words.
After the way that Anna had insisted that Harrison was bad at his job, he supposed he should be taking this as an equal opportunity to return the favour. He couldn't, though, not knowing the severity of her work and the actions that usually lead to such an outcome. Anna's job was far more important than his, and required a lot more focus and skill, and he knew that even if one tiny thing went wrong that there could be fatalities, her own father having been gut-wrenching proof of that fact alone. No matter how many jibes Anna flung towards him, he'd grown to take it all in his stride and never rise to it, wanting to give the girl any and all possible outlets for the pain that he knew was buried deep inside.
“That burn, there? It doesn't mean you're bad at your job, Anna. It's... it's a sign of your strength,” he told her, his tone sincere, never taking his eyes off of her. “It's... You, all of you, you're so brave, you know? And I see that, I feel that always within you, but now... Now you've got that mark so the rest of the world can see it too.”
Shrugging to himself, he averted his eyes, drumming a gentle rhythm into the bar before him, before stopping as he realised that that would probably irritate the girl beside him. His words had been truthful, and he wanted nothing more than for her to see just how admirable she was, but he doubted they'd have the desired effect. Most certainly not when he caught her final words, piercing through him like a knife.
Anna's voice was quiet now, the quietest he'd ever known her to be – usually full of snarky comments and snide remarks that were always directed towards him – and he found himself at a certain loss for words himself. There was no way to reassure her, no way to undo the events of what had happened, he could only shake his head and inwardly curse whatever deity might be out there allowing such horrendous acts to even occur in the first place. People like Anna, and the people that she continually tried to help, didn't deserve that sort of suffering. Nor her father.
“I'm sorry,” he told her, his voice strained, barely even a whisper. It was useless telling her that he was sorry, no amount of apologies was going to bring back the people she'd lost. “It's not your fault, Anna. Really, you can’t blame yourself.”
Tapping on the bar once more, he waved a quick hand so as to garner the attention of Jamie, the bartender on hand for the evening. With a brief nod towards Anna, he gave him a wry smile.
“The hard stuff for us, bud. I think we'll need it,” he told him, receiving a knowing look in return as Jamie turned on his heels and gathered up two glasses. With a quick glance back at Anna, he gave her a gentle smile before adding, “Orange Juice, of course.”
