Grey Street // H.S.

Chapter 35: Running Away

It's been a week since I've seen Harry. Seven entire days.

I knew avoiding him was hard, it was nearly impossible when I attempted it the first time, but it has been to a different level this time around. I constantly want to barge in through his window and apologize for being such a dick. I want to tell him that I'm sorry for being so rude about everything, and that I wasn't thinking clearly. Even if I can't love him I could have at least gone about the situation in a better way.

The only thing that has kept me from breaking down his door is the fact that he seems to be avoiding me too.

I can't blame him. I wouldn't exactly want to be around someone who so easily crushed everything he said to me. But I find myself waiting around for him, expecting him to randomly appear like I've grown so used to. I keep hoping he will show up during one of my shifts at the diner with a smile on his face and a lame joke. I keep hoping that I'll see him and that it will be like nothing ever happened.

He hasn't.

After I left him on the sidewalk I ran back to my house at a record speed. My parents were in the living room having what looked like a serious conversation. If I hadn't been seconds away from having a breakdown I might have stopped to hear what they were talking about but I ignored them and their pretend concern as I tromped up the stairs to my studio.

I think I painted for about two days straight. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, I only stopped to go to the bathroom when it was absolutely necessary. Painting was the only way to keep my emotions and thoughts in a somewhat reasonable state.

I was so incredibly angry. Angry that Harry had to say the words. Angry that he assumed I would feel the same way back. Angry that I couldn't even find the words to tell him how I felt about it and instead blew him off. But mostly I was angry at myself for hurting him. I was angry that I would lead him to feeling the way he does about me, angry that I had to reject his feelings. I was just so angry.

By the end of my paint-my-feelings-away marathon I ended up with seven new pieces. When I lined them all up to observe them I had a brief moment of overwhelming joy. Not only were they beautiful paintings but it was the most productive I had been in months. The feeling of happiness quickly faded away when I realized the reason I had these sitting paintings in front of me. It was at that moment that I realized how empty I felt without Harry.

In these seven days I've felt almost every emotion you could think of. Anger, frustration, sadness, disgust, brief happiness, even at one point I was completely emotionless.

The hardest thing for me right now is not have anyone to talk to about this with. Harry has been my go to person with my current dilemmas in life and I can't exactly go to him, to talk about him. Gerdy has been on an extremely long honeymoon so she's out. Matt would be the next person I could think of but I'm sure Harry's gotten to him first.

So maybe it's because I've become a little desperate but this seems to be my only option at this point. I didn't used to be like this. I didn't used to feel like I needed to talk this sort of thing out. I could hold it in and take out what I couldn't in paint. However, that hasn't seemed to work this time around because there is still so much tension in my body that I don't know how much longer I can handle it.

My dad has always seemed to know the right thing to say at the right time, and I'm hoping that will stay true today. I've been standing outside his office in the back of the house for at least thirty minutes now, having an excruciating debate in my head on whether or not this is a good idea. I haven't really spoken to him in so long and our last true encounter involved me climbing out a window.

I finally decide to ignore the conflicting thoughts in my head and burst through the tall wooden double doors that lead to the room my dad spends so much time in. I wasn't anticipating making such an entrance and obviously neither was he, quickly looking up from where's sat behind his large desk. He looks completely confused for a few moments, peering at me from under his glasses but then he shakes his head quickly, as though he's trying to decide if I'm real or not.