CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
I hear muffled words. Lots of them, actually, in a kind of angry tone that kind of sounds familiar. Maybe I'd recognize it if it weren't for the foot stomping by my face.
I do make it out a couple words, though.
"Violet!" He screams again, his foot stomping louder next to me. I slowly move my arm out attempting to blindly stop the foot, but it doesn't happen, so instead I begin to open my eyes and look to see Harry standing above me, his arms crossed and, not very ironically, his foot stomping loudly.
"Okay, you can stop with your foot now," I mumble, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and looking up at him tiredly, "What time is it anyway?" I yawn.
"One-thirty." He says, his face still stern.
I groan and get comfortable under Harry's duvet again, "Why did you think it was a good idea to wake me up at half past one in the morning?" I ask, my eyes already closing, "Why are you up at this time anyway? You're all kinds of stupid, H." I mumble, too encompassed by sleep to care much about Harry.
"Well I just got in. From my date with Elizabeth." He says quietly.
I squeeze my eyes tighter shut because honestly, what were he and Elizabeth doing on some date that he just got in from at one in the morning. "Oh." Is all I mumble, because now I'm a little more awake even though I wish I wasn't because I don't want to think about it. All of yesterday's happenings are flooding back into my mind, and I physically groan.
"Are you okay, Vi?" He asks, all that stiffness and anger leaving his body. I open my eyes and look to see him squatting down to look at me eye level.
"Yeah, I'm just-tired." I say only half-lying, "Can I just-"
"Oh yeah, you're just tired," Harry said sarcasm clear in his voice, "Is that why there's a broken glass all over the floor and a dent in my sink from where you threw your plate, too? All because you're just too tired." Harry pretty much mocks me, and he's back to angry again.
I just look at him and blink, willing back tears because I really am tired, and fighting with Harry at one in the morning really sucks and I hate it and I'm just really not okay.
"I'm sorry, I'll go clean it up-" I say getting up, but Harry gets in my way so I fall back down to the beanbag.
"No, Violet, that's not what I'm worried about," He says, his voice laced with annoyance that I don't quite understand. I mean if he's not worried about me breaking his cup and damaging his sink, then I don't understand what he would be so mad about.
"What I'm worried about is how I come home and find you no where and glass everywhere!" He says, raising his voce, making me flinch. "What's your deal? Jesus, Violet, you're crazy!"
I close my eyes and will away tears, "I'm not-I'm just-"
"Are you just too tired?" Harry yells, standing up and throwing his arms out wide, "Too tired to talk about what the hell is wrong with you but not too tired to throw a glass at the wall and take my blanket and pillows!"
I sit up on the beanbag and look at Harry, an angry expression on my face that matches his, "You want to know what I'm tired of, I'm fucking tired of you always leaving me for Elizabeth, okay, that's what I'm tired of." I say, a few tears starting pool in my eyes.
Harry takes a step back and looks down at me, his mouth opening and closing over and over again, until finally he closes his eyes and takes his spot back down on the floor in front of me, setting his hand out on the beanbag close to mine, "I'm-I'm sorry." He whispers, looking me in the eyes. He seems to be in a war with himself between either crying or smiling, but he ends doing both.
