chapter thirty-nine

harris

It's close to midnight when there's a knock on my window.

Seb is wrapped in my arms, and I know he must feel me tense up. I can't help it. I legitimately can't. My lungs are already squeezing up, my breath shallow. There's enough light coming from the crack in my bathroom door, the lights left on, for me to see Seb's head shake as he stirs.

"Harris?" he murmurs, groggy. "Hey, Harris?" His hands find my forearms. Immediately, he rubs circles against my skin. I try to loosen up, to say something, but can't. My voice is gone. My very breath, stolen.

His voice has a little more surety to it as he wakes up. "Hey. Hey, it's okay," he says. "You're okay. What is it?"

I don't respond at first. I'm still tense, on edge while trying to listen for something. Anything. There's no additional knocking. Did I imagine it? Am I going crazy?

I must be.

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep," I whisper against Seb's ear. His curls tickle my nose, but I don't mind it. He smells like my shampoo and bodywash once again, and feeling him in my arms, bare skin on bare skin, is comfort plenty. Having him here is enough to keep all the bad vibes away. That night when I laid on my floor and drifted off to sleep while Liam knocked incessantly at my window? Yeah. This is what I wished I'd have had then.

He rolls over and pulls me into him a little bit more, tucking his chin over my head. "Alright," he mutters. "If you insist."

I close my eyes and try to soak in the warmth of his body against mine. My shampoo smells better on him than it does me, but I'm not complaining. My next exhale carries tension with it. My limbs loosen comfortably, and I snuggle in against Seb's chest a little bit more.

There's another knock. A few raps, in quick succession. And I know I'm not imagining it this time, because I feel Seb tense up too.

"Did you hear that?" he whispers, no longer groggy. His hands are suddenly tight on my forearms, so tight that it almost hurts.

Fuck. "Let's just ignore it." Please.

His thumbs slide up on each arm, pressing down to feel my pulse. "Harris, your heart is racing." His voice is strained. He's worried. I don't want him to worry. I just want us to fall back to sleep and never speak of this again.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine." He presses a kiss to my forehead. I inhale shakily. "I'll deal with it."

He slides out of bed faster than I can sit up. "No!" I hiss, terrified to shout even though I want to. I know why he was so worried—I can feel my pulse beating so hard, it feels like it's going to burst right through my neck.

"Seb." My voice is desperate. Strained. I think my hands might be shaking. "Please don't."

He's bending down, grabbing his cyan shirt and slipping it on. His hair is matted on one side, his silhouette golden-lit by the warm bathroom light. "Is it Liam?" he asks.

"Seb, I–I—"

"Is it Liam?" Seb repeats, coolly. I'm not used to this tone of voice from him.

I find myself at a loss for words.

"Right," he says, "well, I'm fucking done with his bullshit. Stay right there."

His gaze flicks about the room, until he settles on my metal water bottle. I watch as he picks it up, in his crumpled shirt and boxers, feeling the bottle for heft.

"Why do you need a blunt weapon?" I ask. Sinking. My insides are sinking. I am sinking. Don't do this, I want to tell him. Let's just go to bed and ignore him. He won't break in. Probably.

What's scarier than the thought of Liam forcing his way through my window is the thought of him leaping in after Seb opens it. As if he'll take it as some kind of vampire-style invite.

The solution is simple: just don't. open. the window.

I climb out of bed, following Seb the few paces to the window. He's holding the water bottle in one hand, already raised as if he's expecting to have to bust in Liam's head any second now. I put my hands on his flexed bicep and try to silently tug him back to the bed. But it's no use. All I get is him lowering the water bottle ... and pulling open the closed blinds.

I try not to yelp when I see Liam there, half-lit by the light from my room, the rest from the full moon outside, crouching in the pebbles and weeds of my window well. One arm is still in a cast, barely visible beneath his stupid fucking 6ix9nine sweatshirt he's had for too long, the one he didn't see an issue with keeping. He doesn't seem all too shocked to see Seb. I see him smile, a twisted, too-toothy grin.

I sink more.

Seb flicks on the standing lamp in the corner, right next to the window. I try to blink away the sudden shock of fresh light. I don't think I'm breathing. I'm frozen.

He slides the window open a crack—I try not to shout again but why would you do that—and says, "Get the fuck out of here, Grande." His voice is threateningly soft.

"I'm not here to talk to you," Liam says. "I'm here for Harris." His hand darts forward. Fingers wrap around the window's edge. Is it bad I want to bash the window shut on his fingers until he lets go? And then lock the window? And then never leave the house, ever ever ever again?

Liam tries to slide the window open, but Seb's arm is surprisingly rock-steady. "I just said to get the fuck out of here, Liam."

"Oh, fuuuck you, Krause," Liam says. His chin juts out. His expression sours. "Fuckin' crazy-ass closet case. This isn't about you, asshole."

"I'll make it fucking about me," Seb warns. "You've got five seconds to climb your sorry ass out of that window well, or I'm going to beat the shit out of you, and then call the cops."

"Yeah..." Liam says slowly, "you're gonna beat the shit out of me. Okay."

Seb holds up the water bottle. My heart thuds in my chest. "I'll bash your fucking head in with this. And I can, too. Wanna bet I won't? Minnesota Stand Your Ground law."

"Harris," says Liam, looking past Seb to me. He probably sees that Seb's a lost cause. "I just want to talk."

"You always 'just want to talk,'" I say, surprising myself. I didn't expect that out of me. Not right now. "We're not friends anymore, Liam. You're lucky I didn't file a police report."

"Over what?" He cocks his head. "We were just fooling around."

My next breath is shaky, just like my hands. "I told you no."

"C'mon, Harris, I—"

"I said, no."

"Harris." He tries to yank the window back. It gives an inch before Seb yanks it right back, twice as hard. The finger-bashing I had wished for nearly happens, but one of them stops it just in time. And suddenly, I wish I was the one holding the water bottle, because there's this sudden furious rage boiling in my veins. It's red and it's hot and I'm mad. I'm done. Fuck this guy. Fuck. This. Guy.

"Fuck you!" I say, no longer caring if I'm speaking above a whisper. I'm speaking so fast that I feel like I'm going to trip over my words, but somehow, don't. "Forget Seb, Liam, I'm gonna be the one to bash your fucking head in. And I don't even like this shirt. I don't mind splattering your brains all fucking over it."

"Oh, come on, Harris, we both know—"

"You don't know anything, dickface. Now get the fuck out of my window well and the fuck off my property before I call the fucking police on your fucking bag-of-bones ass."

Liam doesn't say anything for a moment. He's frozen. He clearly wasn't expecting this.

"Harris, I—"

I snatch the water bottle from Seb's hand and hold it up. "You've got five fucking seconds, you fucking waste of oxygen. Five."

Liam's brow furrows and his lips purse, as if he's trying to figure out what he can say to get out of this. Like he always does. He's looking at me as if he has no idea who I am, as if he's never seen me before. And you know what? Good.

"Four."

He's still staring. Seb's knuckles are white where he grips the window. I can see veins in his forearm I have seriously never seen before.

"Three."

His mouth flops open and shut, like a gobsmacked fish. Which, good.

"Two."

I clench the water bottle tighter. I don't want this to get physical. I just want him to leave. But I'm also angry. Viscerally angry. I almost wouldn't mind taking that out on him—I don't even want to know all the times I can't remember where he took something out on me.

"One."

He takes a step back, still crouched. His expression warps into this angry, twisted thing that makes me feel like he's trying to set me on fire with his eyes. Hated. I am hated.

Good.

Liam takes his hand away from the window—and then punches it.

Okay, but ... what kind of fucking idiot punches a window?

Seb and I are both laughing before the pain even registers on his face. Before Liam can even properly process our laughter, Seb slams the window shut and clicks the lock back into place. I flip Liam off as I shut the blinds.

"I am so not sleeping tonight," I mutter, low enough so that only Seb can hear.

"Um, yeah, me neither."

We stand by the window for the next twenty or so minutes, long after we hear Liam's footsteps scrape as he somehow manages to haul himself out of the window well with one good arm. We whisper to each other the whole while, as Seb stands behind me and puts one arm around my shoulders, the other across my stomach, pulling me close to him.

"Take a shot every time you dropped the eff-bomb in one sentence," he murmurs. It's close enough to my ear that a small wave of shivers are sent racing down my spine.

"Sorry, is that too big boy of a word for you?"

"For me? No, I'm quite loquacious. I love big boy words. But for Liam? Definitely."

"Okay, well"—I turn my head back to peek at him, chin tilted up slightly—"what about you, Mr. Minnesota Stand Your Ground Law? That's not exactly your vibe."

"Well, funnily enough, what is my vibe is knowing that Minnesota doesn't actually have a Stand Your Ground law." He presses his face into my hair. "I don't care, though. That prick deserves a couple knocks in the head."

"Right? Jesus. What an asshole."

"What an asshole."

We stay standing like that for I don't know how long, until we've decided that Liam is definitely gone and not coming back. We cautiously crawl back into bed and meet up at the very center of my mattress again. Seb wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him. My face is pressed against his chest, this time so tight that I can't breathe. I don't mind it though. It's nice to be here with him, I won't lie. Being in his arms like this is enough to slow my pulse down, to even out my breaths. My jaw unclenches. Fists unfurl. I exhale.

"Are you okay?" he whispers after a couple minutes of hugging me in silence.

"I'm okay," I promise. "Shaken, but ... yeah. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." I sneak a quick peck underneath his jawline. "Are you okay? That had to have been scary for you too."

"I'm fine, believe me. I should have beat him up." His hands slide across my back, moving in sweet, senseless circles.

I find myself smiling. "Eh, I know Evan and his friends beat the shit out of him. If he ever comes back, though, we should turn into a human potato."

"I'm imagining what that could mean? And ... I'm intrigued, but scared?"

"We need to read Dexter together."

"Ew, no thanks." He sighs. I feel my head rise and fall with his chest. "I don't like blood."

"I'm sorry to break this to you, Seb, but you're pre—"

"I'll learn to cope later. That's Future Doctor Seb's problem."

I want to say something flirty about him in a lab coat and navy blue scrubs, but something about being here in his arms, after all the adrenaline from before has dissipated, I'm suddenly exhausted. All I want to do is sleep.

It only takes a few seconds for me to drift off, I guess, because Seb nudges me awake. He's gentle, but I still startle. "Sorry, sorry," he whispers quickly. "Did you fall asleep?"

All I can give him is a sleepy, "Mm."

"I'm sorry," he says, his laugh a breathy chuckle. "You wanna sleep?"

"Mmm."

"Alright." He adjusts himself just slightly, then presses another tantalizingly sweet kiss to the top of my head. "Let's sleep."

In his arms, it's easy.