ethereal

"Then that would be a to-do list, not a bucket list." Harper countered, not missing a single word spoken. She knew how wording worked; she knew what not to say, what to specify, and what words needed to be used in order for her speech to have sustainability--Adam worked his way around it. Although the only reason she could come up with was right there, right now--their humanity. Still, she made a mental note and replied, "I don't think I've ever had one. Most of the time, I always got what I wanted--except travelling. Never even been out of the country--which is kind of really lame."

Naomi shook her head against the girl’s shoulder, grateful she wasn’t expecting her to be okay with this. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to feel better.” she said, her voice cracking on the last word as she tried to think of how this was ever going to improve. The blonde just scooted closer to Harper, burying her face in the other girl’s chest, wanting to just stay like that until everything stopped hurting. Suddenly she realized something and her breathing sped up, “Oh god. How can I go back to our apartment? I can’t go back there.” Her eyes looked around, frantically imagining having to go inside their place. “They’re going to hate me at the manor…I don’t know where I’m gonna go.” she said desperately.

Harper was simply out of words. Any phrases she could articulate weren't nearly as close to impart peace--there's a day to day struggle that comes with grief; an undealt grief that, from the warmest place within, Harper hoped Naomi would never surround herself with. And frankly, telling her otherwise in a moment like this, felt incredibly hypocrite--even coming from her. Instead, she held her tighter until with a sudden movement she pulled away. Regardless of the blonde's evident desperation, the end of her lips curved up softly, "That was actually what I wanted to talk to you about," her eyebrows arched up just a little, "Stay with us--again. You know there's an empty room at my place, and it's absolutely yours if you want to."

Naomi listened quietly to Harper’s words, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to remember all the happy memories she was talking about. If she hadn’t met Jett her life wouldn’t have been nearly as good; he’d brought so much happiness into her life that she didn’t want to forget. But every time she managed to picture a good memory, it was quickly replaced by the image of him on her lap in the woods. “It wouldn’t hurt so much.” she said quietly, again trying to wipe away at her tears. But she had to admit Harper had a point, “But I’m glad I knew him.” her voice cracked at the past tense word, hating how it sounded coming out of her mouth and realizing that it was how she had to refer to him now. She nodded a little at her suggestion; she couldn’t imagine telling Brooklyn or Graham or any of the Smythes, but knew she had to. “I keep reliving it anyway.” she admitted softly.

God, she knew it all too well--and she wasn't sure her words offered any comfort. Scooting closer to the girl, Harper wrapped one arm around Naomi's tiny frame. "You don't have to feel better right away, Naomi, and don't ever push yourself for something you're not ready yet. But Jett gave you a chance not a lot of people are given, a chance he made sure you had," she said gently. At her confession, Harper really didn't expect any different. Nodding slightly, she pulled her into another hug as though she was trying to shield her, or trying to keep her together before she could slip away. "I know, Naomi. I know," she uttered, chin resting on blonde hairs.

That does sound like you. Don’t ever change.

Won't do, captain.

"I don’t really know what to talk about.” He whispered. “Bad things keep happening, and… I’m scared next time it’ll be you or Addy, and I can’t—I don’t know what I’d do.”

The ghost of a smile haunted her lips, a mere twist as an effort to somewhat make things easier--that's exactly what she's worried about. Death seemed to follow everyone, attached to them like a shadow and increasing it's size the closer they were to the darkness. Harper's terrified of losing him, of losing Talia--of losing anyone she cares about; a number that unfortunately kept on growing with passing days, no matter how much she tried to avoid it. The simple thought of someone else dying on her was unbearable.

Graham looked up at her with his right eyebrow arched up, forcing a soft chuckle out “You never give up, do you?” Graham asked, moving his hands in front of her as he shaked his head “Do as you will, pain can’t be any worse than the one I feel right now.”

Her lips pressed together in a thin line, nodding, "At least we're getting to know each other, right?" Harper made the attempt to joke, but it lacked of energy--or even humor, for that matter. She knew it wasn't time for jokes. Her hands reached for one of his, checking how serious his injuries were, and poured a little of hydrogen peroxide straight into his knuckles, drying up the rest with bandages. "It could distract you--but you aren't indestructible," she reminded him, almost done with his left hand.

Get a check up done— or something.

And let them take me away from being a pain in everybody's asses? Don't think so.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Naomi knew she was right; Jett wouldn’t have done what he did if he didn’t love her, but she didn’t think she’d ever be able to ignore the fact that she could have done more. Her eyes moved downwards, “It would have been safer for him to not be with me.” she said quietly. “If we’d never been together he wouldn’t have cared so much and had to fight. If he hadn’t loved me he wouldn’t be — he’d still be here.” She felt exhausted from crying and knew she was going to have to tell people what happened over and over again. “How am I supposed to tell everyone?” she asked desperately.

"If you two hadn't been together, you wouldn't have anything to remember him by. If you and Jett hadn't been together all the times you were happy with him, all the times he made your heart skip a beat... all the times you laughed together--they would be gone. If you and Jett hadn't been together, he wouldn't have experienced a happiness only you endowed, he wouldn't have been loved in the way that only you did. Would you really rather not have met him at all? In a different universe where you probably wouldn't have shred a tear for him?" Frankly, Harper wasn't sure where she was going with this. Right now, she knew that Naomi would change everything and anything to get him back--a feeling she was very well accustomed to--but perhaps focusing in the good, full of life memories could grant some ease, even if it were grain sized. "I--I don't know. Just let his family know. If anyone else from outside that circle wants to know, I guess that's their business. You need to look after yourself, Naomi. Reliving what happened over and over again won't do you any good."

"Hey, there you are—"

"No." Graham shaked his head, moving his hands to his back. He had to feel that pain, he wanted to feel it. He wanted to let it out. Also, add a little bit of stubborness in there and you have the perfect reason "Leave it."

Her eyes searched for his, and after a few seconds, she opened the first-aid kit, picking up a tiny bottle of hydrogen peroxide, holding it up for him to see. "If you want it to hurt, this will make your knuckles and those tiny cuts in your hand sting," quirking an eyebrow, Harper tilted her hand to one side. "Let me at least disinfect them before they get any worse."

"Normally I’d try to disagree with you, but I’m not sure I can now." 

"I'm not so sure this town will ever get a break. It's like the only thing you can do is wait for the next."

Careful, there must be something wrong with you.

A lot, actually.

There was nothing that Graham didn’t kick or punch in his wake. Cole, now his own brother? He just couldn’t take it anymore. All that anger had to come out somehow. He kicked and punched everything, making a mess of the place he was in, and even if his knuckles were bloody and his hands red, every muscle in his body hurting, he didn’t stop until he collapsed to the ground, on his knees, tears rolling down his cheek without stopping, screaming at the top of his lungs, a scream of pain more than anything, unable to control the tears that didn’t stop going down his cheeks.

Having accidentally stumbled upon the hurricane that Graham had turned into, destroying everything he laid eyes on, it had been the second most terrifying situation Harper had even been in. Harper could've stay out of it easily, but his pain was so relatable--it was like seeing her own inner battles in the flesh. Instead of walking away, Harper looked for a bottle of water and some bandages; luckily finding an aid kit soon enough. "Give me your hands," she said gently as she knelt before him, extending her own. Part of her was still slightly frightened, wary--hopefully he was out of energy and she wouldn't have to witness a disaster again.

No more witty remarks?

Not that I can think of right now, no.

So I stand corrected, that is quite frankly my favorite thing I’ve ever heard you say. God bless you, Kennedy.