Lone [MATURE HS]

Chapter 3.

The news eventually spread. Speculation limited only to whispers in the hallways when he walked by, bag on his shoulder and eyes focused on nothing in particular, just air. He'd have this look on his face -- furrowed eyebrows, shut mouth, face motionless. He was scary to look at now. The way he looked frozen and lifeless. Lightly tanned skin losing its color. Dark circles around his eyes, the pale green in his irises sadly fading. The wavy curls to his cheek matted, like he slept and woke up without a care.

Shoulders drooping, body posture weak. I found him a few times sitting at the library, book in one hand, bottle of water in the other. His eyes scanned every word, and I could follow them as they did. I'd stand by a corner, looking for a novel that could pertain to my research paper. Sometimes I glanced at him, seeing him look so stolid. I wondered what he was feeling since it was so hard to tell from afar.

I didn't know Harry's father was the senator. Or that he was reported dead five days ago. My initial reaction was to go up to him and maybe tell him some words of comfort, but by the way he ignored everyone who tried, I knew my attempts would be futile. And I felt horrible. Nothing compared to the pain of losing someone close to you, someone so important. And here he was, five days later after his father's death; mute.

"I wouldn't stare at him for so long," a male voice says behind me, startling me.

I turn, feeling a bit annoyed. The feeling derived out of the blue, from continuous confusion. My eyes meet with brown ones as I hold a random novel to my chest, looking up at the new stranger. Dark eyebrows and full lips, a puppy dog look. He was taller than me by a minuscule amount.

"I wasn't staring," I say softly, defending myself calmly. "You should be minding your own business, though."

He gradually breaks out into a small, faint grin.  "You could just talk to him. He's really just hurting right now."

My eyebrows furrow and I shake my head quickly in wonder. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Liam," he answers, not expecting anything from me, so he adds, "I'm on the team with Harry."

I nod my head slowly, pretending to mind this information, but I clearly don't. My lips purse and I glance towards Harry again, asking, "So you know him?"

"Know him? Yes. Know, know him? Not precisely," he explains with a low voice. "I think nobody here really does."

"That's...," I feel my voice fade by impulse, not knowing the right terminology for this feeling inside of me. It's one of interest yet I'm more than ready to let it slip by, considering it's none of my business. But he's just strange, that Harry guy. He stared so long at me and never said a word. He watched me and examined me, but said nothing. And now I'm wondering if I should have said something. If maybe he was waiting for me to say something other than ask if he needed to use the damn vending machine.

This Liam person looks at Harry then to me, flickering his eyes between us. "Do you like him?" He questions quite abruptly.

I raise an eyebrow at his intrusive question. "No. I'm just...I feel very bad."

"Staring at him makes you feel better?" He presses, irritating me by the slightest bit. And I know he sees it, by the way my jaw tightens rapidly and releases. "It's not gonna make him feel better either."

"What are you? -- wise man," I remark in a whisper, eyes squinted up at him. "Gonna run around and tell people that all day?"