I'm Dead | h.s

"i always go to the cemetery because it's the closest i can get to death." harry says, his eyes on the knife as i cut onions. "i lost my sense of smell and taste."

i take a piece of onion and bring it to the tip of his nose. he knows what i'm trying to do and he moves my hand away in a robotic way. his fingers are still wrapped around my wrist and my heart begins to quicken.

the boy with the walking corpse syndrome stares back at me with his neutral expression, claiming silently each second that he's dead.

but i wonder if there's a chance that he feels that his heart is beating... beating for me in this moment


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5. chapter 3

chapter 3

 

not edited
Harry sounded so sure of his statement which makes me find him quite hilarious, and hold back the unwanted laugh that's threatening to spill out of my mouth. He seems to notice my expression and he knits his eyebrows together, making a line between them. 
"What's so funny?"
"You." 
I say, hoping that that's the reaction he was expecting. His expression doesn't change. He's serious. He wasn't kidding. My eyes flick between him and Bartholomew. 
"Wow, you are upsetting me." He crosses his arms against his chest, the wind pushing his hair to the side. I open my mouth and let it open long enough until I feel my drool filling my mouth. I realise I'm being stupid by being here while I should be telling whoever Harry's location.
"I... you know, I'm just gonna go." 
I kneel down to pick up my phone and he raises his feet, menacing to crush my fingers. 
"I need my phone."
"You also need your hand, don't you?" 
I scrunch up my face, eyes glued to him. The hell is his problem? Bartholomew squeezes his shoulder again, and Harry gives me access to grab my phone. Once I take it, he lets out a defeated sigh. 
"Pops!" A young girl walks out to the front porch, and Bartholomew turns around following her voice. Harry stays standing without moving a single muscle, practically glaring at my presence. Each second that I spend here, it seems like he hates it - for some reason - I don't know. I try not to take it personally. "Well, hello. You're new." 
"Hi, I'm Bonnie." I travel pass the both 

men in front of me and walk a few steps closer to the house. The girl walks down the small stairs, smiling with sympathy. It almost seems she's just smiling because she finds it funny that Bonnie is her dog's name. "I just came here to speak to Harry. I'm sorry for interrupting your morning." 
"Ugh, no way. I'm sick and tired of being with these two stubborns in the middle of nowhere. I'm so glad we have company." 
"She was just leaving." Harry says behind me. 
"I just got here." I say, looking at him over my shoulder and sending him a wink to piss him off. Bartholomew is smiling, facing the other way.
"Oh sod off, Harry." The smaller girl spits at the tall bloke behind me, "I'm Reese. Come in, breakfast's ready." 
I walk in after her, feeling strange that I just walked into a stranger's home in the middle of the woods. The house's an antique, postmodern art hanged on walls, the heat inside's unpleasant and there's a small fan next to an old extremely television. 
"Watch your steps!" Reese gasps a second before I trip over a black bag and I land in a litter box. "Harry! Your bags are on the way!" 
"What happened?" He asks as I sit up, disgusted with myself - also, hating my curse of klutz-ing in front of strangers. I look up at him and he finds me. He tilts his head and smiles. "Well, that's inconvenient." 
"I need..." I say, barely moving my lips to keep urine outta my mouth.
"A shower." Reese gives me a guilty grin, handing me a small towel on the way. "Harry show her where's the bathroom."
"No, no, it's fine. My house's right around the corner." Now I sound embarrassed and desperate to leave the house. 
"Hey, it's no trouble. Be our guest." She assures me. I wonder if I'm the first visitor ever in this house. I wipe my face with the soap scented towel, and stand up, facing Harry immediately. 
He's caressing a kitten while looking at me, smiling mischievously. He points his chin to the left before he walks with his pet and I follow him. He opens the door to the bathroom and I stay staring at him instead of walking in.
"What?"
"Was it hate at first sight?" I smirk, batting my eyelashes at him. 
"Oh don't flatter yourself, princess." He rolls his eyes. "You're not special." 
"You never thanked me for the ride." I fake a hurt expression and he rolls his eyes, leaning his head on the wall, roaming his hand over the kitten's fur. 
"You help someone for a simple thanks?"
"No." 
"Then don't always expect a thank you. Not everyone has morals." 
"What's that supposed to mean?" 
"It means you need to go shower and get the hell out of this house." 
I frown waiting for him to say more, but he just raises both of his eyebrows and lean his head toward the bathroom, gesturing me to walk in. I step inside.
He slams the door and I hear him run off. I strip off my clothes, getting in the tub and grabbing the shower knob. There's a small window and I open it, letting the breeze come inside. I stay in there for a long time, slump against the wall losing track of the time. Staring out of the window, admiring the view of the woods until I see Harry kneeling on the ground, digging something out with his own fingers. I turn the water off only when I hear my phone go off. 
When I emerge into the thick steam, I see that my clothes are gone, my phone is left next to the sink. Someone removed them without my noticing. There's a large towel, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. The clothes are for a guy. I grab the towel which is near to me and bring it to my naked self. 
I pick up the phone, answering Niall.
"Your parents are here asking for you." 
"What do they want?"
There's a distortion on the other end until I hear my mother's sophisticated voice. 
"Did you forget about the ball? This place's a mess. Where are you?!"
I slap my forehead, nodding to myself. Every year my parents throw a ball in town with the purpose to get rich people to donate whatever they want, turn their stuff into money and send it to the kids with needs. This year is in my mansion, actually the one I inherited after my grandparents died. 
"Running some errands. I'll be there in ten."
...
"I hope you don't mind that I sneaked in and extracted your pj's. I'm taking care of them." Reese is at the table, feeding Bartholomew with delicateness as if he'll break or choke.
"Thanks, I'm so sorry for the trouble."
"Don't be insecure. We don't mind the company. It's good not to feel alone for awhile." The senior says, spitting his food and Reese sighs, cleaning his mouth with a napkin. 
"It's been like five years since we last had a guest, right pops? Besides... Harry's friends are our friends." She winks, assuring. "It's weird to say that because he usually have no friends."
"She isn't my friend." He enters the kitchen with dirty hands, bumping his shoulder against mine as he walks over to the sink to watch his hands. "I don't have friends."
"Yes you do. They're worried about you." I roll my eyes.
"Right. Name at least one person." 
"I don't know. Your roommate?" I scoff.
He turns around, ripping a napkin and drying his hands.
"Okay, there's a difference between wanting to know where someone is and wanting them back. In this case, whoever might be wanting to know where I am isn't bothering to look for me nor wants me back. Lesson of life." He grabs his bags from the floor, "I'm going to put this in the trunk."
"Where is he going?" I ask them once he's gone.
"Somewhere peaceful." Reese replies. 
"Is he going through an Emo phase?" 
"Heh, it's much deeper than that. Eggs?" She offers me, changing the subject that sounds too touchy for them to discuss. 
"I wish I could stay, but my parents are searching for me so I have to go back." 
"Let me take your clothes out the -" 
"Don't worry. I'll come back." I assure her and she smiles, nodding. "It was nice to meet you." 
"Likewise!"
I walk outside and find Harry throwing his bags in the back of the truck. I approach to him and grab a bag putting it in the trunk. He notices me and raises an eyebrow.
"Why are you still here?" 
"I'm helping you, be nice."
"Still wanting to hear a thanks coming from me?"
"No."
"Isn't your boyfriend cheating you or something?" He turns his attention back to putting his suitcases inside. 
"Wow, you hurt my feelings." I say sarcastically. "Just wanted to say thanks for letting me borrow your clothes -"
"I didn't let you borrow them. Reese just took them to you without my permission." 
"Soooo anyways, seems like you need a friend so I'm inviting you to a ball tonight at my house."
"An emo bloke at the ball? Oh who would want that?" He gasps sarcastically. 
"You heard that?" I bite my lip.
"I'm not emo. I'm dead."
"I'm having trouble if you mean it metaphorically."
"Listen, I don't do friends so please scurry off, yeah?" 
A book falls from an unzipped bag and I pick it up, brushing off the dust. 
"You read?"
"No. You want it?" He grabs it and looks down at it. "It belongs to Bartholomew, somehow it slipped in the bag. You can take it."
"I can't take something that's not mine."
"The old man's blind, he can't read anymore. Take it." He hands it to me. 
"Thanks."
"Yeah, well. There's my 'thanks' for the ride." He closes the trunk. "Hope you like reading."
He starts walking back to the house but I stop in front of him.
"Oh I do. I also love writing." 
"Really?" He asks uninterested. Is he really this anti-social? 
"I'm quite the writer." I flip my hair off my shoulder.
"What do you write?" He looks from my chest to my face. "Cliché?"
"From comedy to romance with a little bit of paranormal," I grin. "I study Literature. I'm good with words."
He stares at me, squinting his eyes. "Tell me more." 
I open my mouth and close it again. I glare at him, sighing. "I'm gonna go." 
"You do that."

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