In The Depths

Loneliness is like a deep dark void, with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. As much as I try, I just get deeper into the depths of loneliness, and into the depths of my soul. I just want to get out. I don't deserve this.


20. Forsaken Love Masked By Hate

My muffled cries are drowned out by the hand over my mouth. Another hand grips my shoulder with so much force that I feel my collarbone at the brink of snapping. My shoes scrape across the floor as I’m dragged. I know that the one taking me is much stronger than I am. My struggles are thrown down the drain as I’m dragged farther away from the stage.

“Louis!” Francisco screams over the orchestral music. “What the HELL?”

I try to scream back to him, but my voice cuts glass through my throat and stops at my mouth. Squeaks come from the heels of my shoes against hardwood floor. I decide to stop struggling and just give up.

Cold air slaps my face as the man who grabs me sets me outside. I look around the black night sky, squinting to see the heartless being that kidnapped me from my dreams.

Harry stares back at me.

“Harry?!” My voice rips through the silent air. “Harry, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Harry shakes his head, allowing dark curls to swing over his brows. “Calm down. Please, calm down. I’ll talk to you in the car.”

“IN THE CAR?” I yell, chest heaving. Each breath feels like a knife to the throat. “You expect me to get in the car after you just dragged me away from my fucking goals?”

“Get in the car, please.” Harry’s voice is shaky and scared. I start to feel a tinge bit sorry for him. The empathy is washed away as his hand guides me to his black Mercedes.

“Harry, there better be some good explaining for this. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive your sorry ass.”

Bullets fired.

I sit in the passenger seat of Harry’s black car, holding back tears. Whenever I swallow, a harsh pain jolts into my already throbbing head. Harry drives with his hands clutched around the wheel. His knuckles turn a sickly pale white.

“Explain yourself. Where the Hell are we driving and why would you RUIN MY LIFE?” I don’t feel like I’m being overdramatic at all. He deserves every harsh word he can get.

“Will called me. You know that.”

“Yeah. That’s a great reason to drive away from Les Miserables.”

“Louis,” He turns his head to face me, his green eyes glazed over with an unidentified emotion. “I’m going to need you to do me a favor and shut up. Let me speak. Cry if you want. Just shut up and let me explain myself.”

A small whimper escapes my lips and the first tear travels down my face.

“Will called me. Jamie apparently texted him that she wants to meet up with him.” The rubber of the car tire screeches against the pavement. “So he’s drunk. Really drunk.”

Harry pauses and stares at the night sky. White stars glitter the black abyss; everything seems beautiful if it wasn’t for the wall of dread knocking at my heart.

“He’s been drinking all night out of sorrow. When he called me, he was crying and laughing and yelling at the same time.”

“Harry,” I hiss. “Where are we going? I don’t want to shut up, so I won’t. I don’t care if Will is drunk. I just want to know where you’re taking me and why you are such a bitch.”

I look to Harry, who is swallowing and fluttering his eyelids. He doesn’t dare look at me. “We are going to the airport.”

“Why?” I grip the armrest.

“Because Will wants to catch a flight to America. He’s drunk and is at the airport. He’s moneyless with no mind and he thinks he can hitch an airplane for free.”

I shake my head, feathery locks of hair cascading over my forehead. At the moment, my emotions are in a state of confusion, anger, and sadness, which-for me- is glum. I want to snap at Harry, but a white wisp in my mind is telling me to be nice to the boy; that he has a well thought out reason to take me away from Les Mis.

“So you’re telling me Will is going to attempt to sneak onto a flight?”

Harry turns the car. The full moon reflects in the rearview mirror, catching me off guard. “Yeah. I don’t know if he printed out fake tickets, or if he’s going to bribe the airport worker with his ‘good looks’”. He makes air quotes with his long fingers. “He thinks Jamie will be waiting for him, ready to kiss his cursed mouth.”

“Why are we going then?”

Harry snickers through his front teeth. A slight shake of his head shows how he thinks I’m stupid for asking this. I honestly need a reason why he couldn’t chase Will by himself. His towering legs can carry himself. He doesn’t need a young man looking like a cosplaying nerd to tag along with him. The bright stage lights casting shadows over my face is heaven compared to the fluorescent lighting of airport lightbulbs. The audience cheering with bright smiles plastered on their faces is a much bigger pleasure ratio than the crying of babies and pissed off pilots on the intercom.

Harry’s vocal chords are hammers and nails as he says, “Why are we going? Because Will is our friend and we have to stop him. Imagine if you were working at an airport and a drunken kid stumbles in, raving on about catching a free flight to America. Tattered clothes and giant glasses won’t get you first class, Louis, and he needs our help.”

“Yeah. Sure, whatever. He needs help, but that doesn’t mean he needs me there too! Tonight was my big night. This would have been the best damn night of my life if it wasn’t for your tainted driving skills. You could be the hero in spandex ALONE. Save Will by your goddamned self.”

Harry spits out an impressive slew of curse words as the car speeds into the airport parking lot. He pays the parking bill with a grim expression. “I’m bad with words, people, and airports. If I was to do this task of getting to Will before he gets himself to the slammer alone, then I would be as helpful as a spoon cutting a tenderloin.”

“Your figurative language sucks.”

“The point is,” Harry mumbles and he parks the car. “I need you with me because without you, I would probably fuck up and get arrested myself.”

I scoff and unhitch my seatbelt. With little to no contemplating, my giant wool coat is stripped off, along with my fake beard and giant belt. I’m left in a black undershirt, giant boots, black trousers and my original brown scruff that decorates my lip.

“You look like a wannabe character from grease, minus the hair gel.”

“Just shut up, will you?” The rude remark travels through the thick air of Harry’s car, escaping when the sharp cool air comes in from my now open door. I stomp angrily to the airport, not even bothering to see if Harry is following.

All this hate for Harry masks my love for him, but I know the love still beats in my heart. I don’t want to admit it, but I still do love him. He’s a douchebag, yeah, but a loveable douchebag. I don’t bother to tell him that I love him at this miserable moment, but I do. I don’t want to point out that when he is insulting me, his eyebrows crinkle and his green irises turn brighter; a beautiful crispness that only his eyes possess, sharing the emotions of the world through his sparkling orbs.

My bittersweet love-hate is washed away as the glass doors of the airport slide open.

Police in blue and black uniforms are in a circle near the front doors. I automatically know that the poor kid on the floor is William. One policeman is grasping the gun in his belt. Another has his boot against Will’s chest. Strangled moans of: “But I LOVE her!”, “I only had one beer, dudes,”, and “Your boot is really painful, man. Honestly, back up,” echo around the front room. Pedestrians make sure to keep their pace from the hoard of police and the stupid teenager on the floor.

I sigh.

Tonight may be the longest night of my twenty one years. 

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