Day seven of this quarantine thing and I'm already going crazy. Send help. Y'all know the drill, though. Thank you for the love and support on the last chapter. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

All mistakes are my own.


While the others were out hunting Edward was home with Esme. Harrison didn't show up to school on Friday and now Edward was really worried because he might not have a chance to fix this. He had a plan, but his plan couldn't be executed if Harrison didn't show up to school. His plan couldn't be executed if he didn't know where Harrison was. His plan couldn't be executed if he didn't know if Harrison was okay.

"You're quiet," Esme said to him as she graced his doorway.

Edward was journaling again, writing down piano notes. "I've been thinking a lot."

"About what?" She inquired softly.

"Things."

"Ah," Esme hummed. "More pieces to compose?" Lately, he's been in his piano room playing most of his days away, but she liked it better when he used the grand piano near the entryway of the living room. It was bigger and she thought the sound resonated better in the house instead of when he was cooped up in his room.

"Maybe," Edward murmured. He scanned her mind for a moment, but she was reciting Hamlet in her head. In French might he add. "Is there something you wanted to say to me, mom?"

Esme jumped right in. "Bella doesn't deserve the way you treat her. All she does is love you and you keep pushing her away."

"She forgave me already." Or at least that's what Edward thought. He didn't know what she really felt about him temporarily disappearing. She asked for answers regarding his actions. Yet, the lies he told her satisfied her to an extent, but he would never know what she was thinking.

Look at him. He was keeping secrets from her. Telling her lies. He was no better than Jasper but at least his brother had a somewhat viable excuse. Telling Alice would just worry her even more, make things worse than what they already are.

"That's beside the point Edward and you know that."

"I want to know why you did that to her. I think I'm due some answers at least." Esme said. "I consider her a part of our family and that behavior will not be tolerated."

"I know."

Edward honestly does know, he already had Alice mentally harping on him about what he's done. He had heard and one of her passing thoughts that she was thinking about staging an intervention. One he did not need. The moral of that little recount was that he already had Alice giving him grief about this when he did not need his mother to do the same.

What was hard for Edward right now was being alone in this situation. Ever since their private conversation, Jasper hasn't been talking to him. Jasper hasn't even looked in his direction since Thursday. His thoughts were squeaky clean too.

He couldn't talk to Bella about this, he couldn't talk to Alice about this either because they had enough to worry about. Bella wouldn't understand. Rosalie would want to tear his head off. Emmett would probably just pat his shoulder and wish him good luck because his brother wasn't going to pick a side, especially a side that his wife leaned away from.

"You can talk to me, you know," Esme advised. "I've never given bad advice before."

That is true. She has not. Not in all of her days.

Edward put down his journal and pen then folded his hands in lap. If a boy couldn't talk to his mother, then who else did he have?

"I messed up, Esme."

Esme seemed unperplexed by his confession and asked, "How so?"

He looked up at his mother's beautiful heart-shaped face and sighed. He was always honest with Esme, but if he told her the truth, she would probably tell Carlisle. She noticed his hesitation and thought. 'I can keep a secret if you need me too'

Edward gave her a small smile, yet another reason why he loved her so dearly. "I couldn't ask you to do that. It's fine. I'll tell you anyway."

At least he knows his mother would not yell at him like Jasper yelled at him. She would give her clear and honest advice no matter what he's done. She wouldn't hold a grudge against him either, call him stupid, call him an idiot. because believe me Edward knew what he was. He didn't need anyone else to remind him.

"I've been talking to Harrison," Edward admitted. "He hasn't been giving me the light of day, but I keep going back to him."

"Why?" Esme seemed genuinely curious. "I thought everyone agreed to leave him alone?"

"He's fascinating." Edward found him even more interesting since their encounter. How did Harrison push him against the door without touching him? Did Harrison have powers just like them? Was he really even human? He looked human. He smelled human - well, better actually. He acted human...sort of. But he didn't think like a human or respond like one.

Esme didn't like that answer and there was a frown on her perfect face. "Like Bella was fascinating?"

Her thoughts implied heavy implications. One that he was quick to deny. "It's not like that."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Edward said, and she looked at him hard and long.

"If you're sure." 'Which you better be.'

"I worry about you," Esme said lightly, her lips barely moving. She walked over to the leather couch where he lounged and took a seat at the edge, back poised, eyes gentle. "I had my doubts about you, whether or not you'd ever find a mate that suited your standards. You spent over a century alone, but you were content it seemed."

Edward ducked his head, shying away from her words. He knows just how much she worries. He's heard it in their minds before. Every time he leaves. She worries. Every time he has a personal problem that cannot be resolved, she worries.

Edward held a place in her heart that no one else could take. After Carlisle changed her and they fell in love, he was her first son. They had a bond and he didn't like making her worry, he never did.

Esme was having none of that and lifted his chin so he could meet her eyes. "Then you found Bella. You were so determined not to fall for her but then you did. And we welcome her with open arms into our family. She risked her life to save you in Italy." She recalled this with a smile on her face, but her eyes spoke different volumes. There was a warning under there somewhere cushioned by her smile. "You can't keep pushing her away. It doesn't do anyone any good. Do you understand?"

Like a scolded child, he nodded. "Yes, mom."

"Good. So, tell me, what is so fascinating about Harrison?"

Edward couldn't exactly put it into words. Before he found out about his powers–– he was drawn to his knowledge and revulsion of the supernatural. Harrison didn't want anything to do with them. Edward was also drawn to the blankness of his mind. The fact that he couldn't read Harrison was enough to reel him in. He also smelt too delectable for his own good. Edward swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth. "He's just different."

Harrison was rather attractive too, now that he thought about it. He had beautiful bright green eyes that pierced through his soulless carcass.

"Explain it to me," Esme said simply.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't." Edward wouldn't say what happened and he couldn't because he promised Harrison. And after all that he's done, the least he could do was keep that promise.

"Then how can I help you?"

"Okay hypothetically. Say, I said something to a person that I shouldn't have, and I hurt that person unintentionally. How do I make it right?"

"Apologize."

"What if whatever I said caused them to isolate themselves. What if I can't apologize because I can't see them, nor can I find them."

"Then Edward," she caressed his cheek with a knowing smile. "You have to wait for him."

Edward could do that, but for how long?

His siblings hadn't returned from their hunt yet when Edward took a seat at the grand piano downstairs for a change. Esme was upstairs, humming over a new set of blueprints.

Edward ran his hand gently up the scales, testing the pitch. The tuning was still perfect, and Esme was right, it sounded cleaner. Crisper.

Upstairs, Esme paused what she was doing and cocked her head to the side. Edward began a few lines of the tune that he had scribbled in his journal, pleased that it sounded even better than he imagined.

Esme got up from her desk and flitted silently to the head of the stairs. He added a harmonizing line, letting the central melody weave through it just a little bit. She sat down on the top step and leaned her head against the banister. He let the melody lead in a new direction, following it with the bass line.

Edward ceased his fingers. Something didn't sound right. This was certainly faster than most of his pieces, so the need for it to flow smoother was there.

"Don't stop, Edward," Esme encouraged after a strained moment.

"Keep playing," Esme urged. 'Please.'

He did as she asked, and she came to stand behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. The song was compelling, one of his best, but incomplete. He toyed with a bridge, but it didn't seem right somehow.

"Does it have a name?" Esme asked. "It doesn't sound as sad as the others you've played in your room. It's more upbeat."

"I haven't got a name for it just yet but it's...a ballade, I suppose." He got the bridge right then. It led easily to the next movement, taking on a life of its own.

Harrison didn't need a lullaby, somehow that didn't fit him. Maybe it could even be considered a march. Something imposing yet almost soothing.

"A ballade," she repeated to herself. 'It's beautiful.'

"Is there a story to it?" she asked, a smile in her voice.

There was a story to this sad melody, and once he saw that, the pieces fell into place effortlessly. A sad boy with an even sadder past, filled with pain and suffering–– truly never-ending. But there was power in it, the bass rattled his fingers. Esme hummed something higher pitched and mesmerizing.

"I like that," he murmured. "But how about this?" Edward added her line to the harmony - his hands were flying across the keys now to work all the pieces together - modifying it a bit, taking it in a new direction. She caught the mood and hummed along.

"Yes. Perfect," Esme squeezed his shoulders. The song drifted toward the beginning melody again, slower and lower now. It became solemn again, a tone that belonged under the echoing arches of a candlelit cathedral. Edward played the last note and then bowed his head over the keys.

Esme stroked his hair. "It's going to be fine, Edward. Everything will be fine.'

"Okay," He whispered, wishing he could believe it.

Andrew was determined to get out of the house. He was thinking about going to the town library just to get away from his parents or just going for a long drive. He had woken up nice and early on this lovely Saturday morning. He went to the bathroom and did his morning routine; he took an extra-long hot shower and when he stepped back into his room, he had a big white fluffy towel wrapped around his waist.

That was when his mom opened the door and his towel fell off.

"Jesus! Mom!"

"Sorry!" Mrs. Mitchell yelped, lifting the breakfast plate she was carrying as if it could fend off the sight of her teenage son's bare bum.

"Mom, you have to knock first or something!" Quick as a bunny, Andrew managed to find his pajama bottoms and hoist them over his hips. He even sat down on the bed to further thwart any additional possible bottom viewing.

"Oh, Andy, I'm sorry! I just heard you were awake, and I got excited— "

"Mom!" Red-faced, Andrew's morning equanimity had well evaporated. "What do you want?"

"I made you breakfast," Mrs. Mitchell said sheepishly, slipping into the room and depositing a piping hot plate of scrambled eggs with smoked sausage and two slices of toast on his bedside table. When she stepped back, Andrew got a look at her and saw she was wearing a neon, floral apron.

He looked at breakfast and blinked.

It looked delicious but his mother hasn't made him breakfast since he was twelve.

Andrew knew for a fact that there was no smoked sausage on the premises as of midnight last night. That meant that Suzanne must have snuck out this morning, and if his mother was out of the house before noon on her day off, it meant she had an agenda.

"What's this about?"

Mrs. Mitchell took that as an invitation to sit down and she pulled his desk chair to the middle of the room so she could face him.

"About last night, love-"

Andrew did take Harry's advice and gave Embry a call, it was his mistake while doing that when his father was home. Embry and Andrew talked for hours and, of course, his father had questions about who Andrew was chatting up into the late hours of the night. Well, Andrew was not a very good liar––so he told the truth and so it led to another explosive argument about his sexuality. His father did all the screaming really, while his mother stood back and didn't say a word. Bad things were said. Things a child should never hear their parents say to them.

"Aw, mom," Andrew winced, shying away. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"I just wanted you to know, your father and I – we love you very much. We do. And I know we've failed you in your parenting––, her eyes went round and dewy with heartfelt sincerity.

"What?" Andrew's head snapped up, not liking where this was heading.

"It's not your fault!" Suzanne replied, holding her hands up defensively. "We don't blame you, love. It's just that Aaron was so easy. You know, such a good boy. He didn't really need us to teach him anything, did he? And I'm afraid that when you came along, your father and I didn't have much practice. So, I wanted to apologize."

It hurt hearing his estranged older brother's name. They were never close; they will never be close and as far as Andrew was concerned; he didn't have a brother. Aaron was eighteen years older than him and he was living his own life when Andrew was born.

Andrew swallowed and suddenly the smoked sausage he had been picking out of his eggs lost its glamor. "You – You think I didn't turn out right?"

"Did I say that?" Suzanne asked, her voice going up several octaves in what she no doubt hoped communicated distress. "Did I say I didn't think you turned out right? I didn't say that!" She stroked over his brown hair, but far from soothing him, it made him more agitated. "Not at all! I was just discussing with your father last night how we should have taught you the things that didn't come naturally to you – I mean, everything was just so easy with Aaron— "

"Harrison is sick," Andrew blurted suddenly, wanting to say anything to keep his mother from talking.

Although she tried to suppress it, it was clear by her eyes that Suzanne Mitchell was startled, "He's sick and you went over to see him?" Of course, his mother would ask him that–– when he got the flu, she exaggerated everything. How his mother was a nurse was beyond Andrew.

"Yes, because he's my friend," Andrew said, seeing that shift in her and unable to prevent the glimmer of pride that was swelling in him. "Plus, he did the same for me. He hasn't been to school in a week mom."

"A week!" Suzanne exclaimed.

"Yeah, he's missed a lot of schoolwork––"

"It's the flu isn't it––

"What! No."

"You got that poor boy sick Andrew! Now it's up to me to fix it!"

"I have to make him a care package!" Suzanne was up from her chair in an instant. "Do you know if his mother would exchange phone numbers with me to keep me updated? Oh, Andy, why didn't you tell me?"

"Mom, he doesn't have parents. He lives alone."

"What!" Suzanne screamed.

Andrew winced and repeated himself since his mom was so hard of hearing. "I said he doesn't have––

"I heard you the first time! You have to tell me these things. See? This is what I'm talking about!"

"What?"

"Now I'm not going to get anything done. I had my afternoon all planned, but I guess it's all for naught, now, because Harrison is sick," she sulked, petulant at a problem of her own making. "You're going over there tonight. Do you understand me? That poor boy is all alone and sick, no thanks to you."

Andrew didn't need to be forced to see Harrison. He'd do it willingly. "Mom, this isn't— "

"I've got things to go and buy!"

And like that, she was gone.

Harry was quite conflicted. This was his third attempt to get out of bed and shower. It was very simple, but it was quite a daring feat for him right now. He just couldn't fathom doing any of it. Getting out of bed, taking a shower, getting dressed, eating something, and then getting his car keys and going to school. Those were far too many steps. Eating something should be the first thing on his list. For the past couple of days, his diet has been strictly whiskey and cigarettes.

He'd shower next if he could.

He honestly could not afford to lose any more weight; he was already beginning to see his ribs a little.

"At least eat something," Harry told himself. "That's all you have to do."

He could even make it really easy on himself and just accio food without even getting out of bed. But Harry knew if he didn't get out of bed today, he wasn't getting out of bed tomorrow.

Or the next day.

Or the next day.

So, he sat up in his bed, surrounded by cigarette buds, crust in both his eyes, shirtless and stomach aching. He wrapped himself in his sheets, draping them over his shoulders like a cape for a deserving king and stood up on wobbly legs.

"You can do this," Harry said to the emptiness of his room. "It's just downstairs and into the kitchen."

His eyes caught the picture of Teddy on his nightstand and sadness and longing shot through him like a bullet. Oh no. That was just going to make things worse. He slapped the frame down hastily. Harry looked down at his blasted legs and said, "The hard parts' over. Get me to the kitchen."

On his nightstand his cell phone just kept buzzing, indicating that he was getting a text message. Harry didn't even need to look at it to know it was Andrew, because who else would be texting him. He's glad Andrew learned the art of texting because Harry didn't want to talk on the phone.

11:30 am: I'm coming over tonight to see if you're okay.

11:31 am: I might've told my mom you were sick

11:31 am: She is going a little crazy over here. Making you a care package n' shit. I also might've let it slip that you're an orphanage.

11:32 am: Sorry.

11:32 am: She's gonna get you a doctor's note from the hospital. She's gonna call the school for you. Make me get your schoolwork from your other classes. Get all your absences excused.

11:33 am: answer me pls.

Sent 11:40 pm: Tell her thank you for me. I'll see you soon.

11:42 pm: 3 3 3 see you

Well if Harry needed the incentive to get up, he certainly had it now. By the time Andrew arrived, Harry had done the best he could. He had eaten and he had even showered. He even looked at some of the trigonometry notes that Andrew had brought over to him on Thursday. Granted, he only looked at them for maybe about thirty seconds, but he still looked. Much more than what he thought he could accomplish for today.

"Hey Harrison," Andrew said as he squeezed through the door. Harry was dress in fresh jimmy jams and for the first time in two days not smelling like roadkill and alcohol.

"I'm sorry about this," Andrew said, handing him over an oversized gift basket filled to the brim. "My mom made me bring this."

"It's cool. Totally fine." Harry dismissed, eying the insides of the bountiful basket as he placed it on the coffee table. Damn, was that Swedish chocolate? He spotted some fancy soothing bath salts and some extra strength Motrin too. Where'd Mrs. Mitchell even get half this stuff from? He'd have to make her lunch or something one of these days as a thank you.

Andrew ducked his head nervously. "Uh, can I stay with you for a while? I don't wanna go home right now."

Harry kept his face intentionally blank. "Of course, mate. Stay as long as you're able to."

It was impossible to keep it that way, however, because Andrew burst out laughing and clapped his hands in merriment as if he couldn't keep his happiness contained any longer. "Ok," he said through his chortles, "So, I have to tell you what happened last night."

The anticipation was nearly killing Harry. "What?"

"I called Embry."

"That's what I'm talking about. Cheers!" Harry wolf-whistled and clapped him on the back. "Andrew, you stud!"

Andrew laughed, and he settled into the couch. "I just took your advice and did it."

"Tell me everything," Harry demanded. So, Andrew––like the eager and excited boy he was, proceeded to tell him every single thing that went down Friday night. From the time he picked up his phone to the moment, they said their goodbyes. "He's so nice and sweet and–– ugh. He wants to take me out on Tuesday after school."

"Does he now?" It would seem that Harry would have to go outside far sooner than he'd like. If Embry was planning on taking Andrew out, Tuesday he'd have to swing by the reservation on Monday whether he was in the right headspace or not.

"Yeah, I mean I told him, yes but I don't know what I'll tell my parents. I don't know what I'll do especially since––," Andrew trailed off suddenly and his happiness was gone a second later.

"Since," Harry prompted, his voice dark with foreboding.

Andrew shrugged, working himself into a sweat trying to keep it lighthearted. "I got into an argument with my dad last night. He asked who I was talking to and I told him, and he got really angry–– there was a lot of screaming, and––."

And what? Harry was fearing the worst. He was out of his comfort zone; he's never dealt with something like this.

Harry didn't look scandalized as much as baffled, which made Andrew feel somewhat better. "And what?"

"He just said a lot of mean things to me."

The confusion on Harry's face had pulled his eyebrows together into one dark line across his forehead. "He didn't hit you, did he?"

"No!" Andrew exclaimed and Harry let out a breath of relief. If it had come to that, he'd have to meet Andrew's father tonight if he had to and say a few words.

"Just threw around some nasty slurs. Nothing I can't handle."

Harry gave this some consideration, but he wasn't convinced. "Andrew," he said, his intonation a little more care-burdened, "You shouldn't have to handle that at all. He shouldn't say stuff like that to you."

His friend was quiet, but Harry knew it was because he was thinking. "I know," he said evenly. "I just have to. I haven't got a choice."

Well that was it wasn't it. Andrew didn't have a choice. Andrew's grades were pretty good, hopefully, he could get accepted into college and go far away from his parents.

"So, what are you gonna do about your date?"

Andrew blushed. "I don't know."

"Where's he taking you?"

"The movies. Which is in town."

"Well, just tell them you're with me."

"You mean lie?"

Andrew was clearly shy, and Harry eased the tension by saying snarkily, "Andrew I think everyone's lied to their parents or guardians at least once or twice."

"Sure," Andrew replied with a little laugh, "But I'm a terrible liar."

"It's just a little lie."

"Yeah. I just don't want to make things worse. My mom already told me I didn't turn out right this morning.

"She said that?" Harry asked, his bright eyes, sad and knowing. Still attempting to be the optimist, Andrew shrugged gamely and replied, "Yeah. Tensions are high at the moment but it's fine."

"Shit."

"You see, now?"

"I'll figure something out."

"You don't have to."

"Yes, I do. I want you to have a nice time on your date."

"That's for me to worry about."

"No, it's not. In fact, think of it as a favor. Just like you're doing me a favor on Monday."

"I am?"

"Yup. I need you to give this to Jasper." Harry wasn't a very good drug dealer, now was he? He hasn't thought about what his absence would do to Jasper. The point of a drug dealer was to be available to supply said drugs. Harry passed Andrew a small envelope and Andrew looked down at it bug-eyed.

"What's that?"

"Something I owe him."

"You owe Jasper Hale something?"

"No, not really," he had to pause a moment and think about it, "We've got an agreement of some sort. Just make sure that gets to him on Monday and I'll worry about what to do about your parents."

"You want me." Andrew pointed to himself. "Again, me. To put this in his hand?"

"Yes."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I can't just walk up to Jasper Hale."

"Yes, you can. He did it to you didn't he?"

"Yeah but that was different. He's the picture of perfection and well I'm ––me and ––uh, I was the only one in the hallway."

"I believe in you, mate. You can do this." Harry encouraged.

Andrew was shaking his head. "But I don't believe in myself."

"I'd do it myself but I'm not quite ready for school yet," Harry said, his voice going soft. "So, I need you to do this for me, please."

Andrew parted his lips and took a breath, and he swallowed down his fear. "I'll try my best to not chicken out."

Harry smiled at him, grateful for what he knew was a difficult concession for Andrew to make. "Now, tell me more about lover boy."

That made Andrew laugh, and he shoved Harry's shoulder friskily, happy to oblige.

Sunday passed quickly since after Andrew left on Saturday, Harry slept for twenty-four hours. He's not even kidding, he went to bed at nine pm on Saturday and woke up on Sunday at nine pm.

Would you believe it if Harry told you that that wasn't even close to his record? He's once slept for thirty-six hours nonstop. He woke up feeling like shit of course and half-dead inside but it was better than being awake.

But back to his dilemma.

Monday.

Monday was rearing her ugly head for everyone to see.

Harry had a terrible feeling about Monday's like he always did. Add the pressure of social interaction and it made for a catastrophic concoction. Plus, he was out of his element with this. He hasn't done any research, so he was just storming over here by word of mouth. Which he hated doing by the way. Cullen could've been lying. Lying out his ass. Harry could just be on his way over to Jake's place ready to make a fool out of himself. Let's hope that's not the case.

Jacob was waving him down with a smile from outside a little red garage in the back of his house. Harry didn't have the heart to smile back. He just pulled up on the gravel road, parked and hopped out.

Jacob approached him with an even bigger smile. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I was surprised when you called me," Jacob said, watching him with glittering eyes. He beckoned him to the garage and Harry followed him inside.

Harry hadn't planned on coming over here, he was not ready for interacting with anyone other than Andrew. But he wanted to know what Embry's deal was. "I was too."

"I mean shouldn't you be in school?

"Shouldn't you?"

Jacob shrugged. "The rez schools are out today and tomorrow."

"Oh," Harry said lamely. Was it hot in here because Harry felt a little hot?

"You look like shit," Jacob pointed out rudely and Harry didn't doubt it. He didn't bother looking at his reflection in the mirror for long. He just sort of brushed his teeth, pulled on clothes and headed out the door.

Harry's brain went all fuzzy and only for a second, there were two Jacob's instead of one. He gripped onto one of the nearest things in his vicinity, which happened to be a workbench— so the world would stop tilting on its axis.

Jacob grabbed a wrench and hunched over one of the two bikes in his possession. "So, what's up?"

No need to beat around the bush, right?

"I wanna know what the fuck Embry wants with Andrew?" Harry asked sharply and Jacob damn near dropped his wrench at his tone. Harry didn't mean for it to come out like that. He didn't know why it came out like that. Fuck.

"Whoa!?" Jacob said, raising his hands in surrender but that only made Harry's blood boil. Why the hell was he surrendering and not answering his question? Jacob scratched the back of his neck. "He likes him a lot."

Harry didn't know if that was a statement or a question, but Jacob needed to figure that shit out because Harry was not in the mood. "Oh, so Embry was just planning on telling Andrew that he's a werewolf? Huh? He was just gonna bring that up over a cup of fucking tea? Huh? Is that right?"

Jacob, of course, latched onto the very unimportant part of that little spiel. "You know about us?"

Jacob tossed the wrench back into the toolbox that was across the room with startling accuracy. He was grinning and Harry didn't want any fucking grins. He wanted answers. That's why he was here.

"Yes, I bloody fucking know. Who gives a shit! Now onto the important part. What does he want with Andrew?" Harry demanded and he glanced down at his hands to see that they were shaking.

Oh. no.

Now was not the time.

"Look, Harrison. I think Embry should explain––,"

"No, no I want you to explain it to me. Andrew is too sweet and too precious to have his heart fucking ripped out," Harry growled out. "He's my friend and I'm not gonna let that happen do you hear me?" Harry didn't care that heartbreak was a part of life and a part of love and blah blah blah. He was going to spare Andrew the heartache if he could. Nip that shit right in the bud.

Harry reached in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes.

They weren't there.

They weren't fucking there. He must've left them in the car. So, his hands were free to just shake and twitch all about. He set his eyes back on Jacob who was, of course, looking at him as if he grew three heads.

"Harry," he said as if he was trying to calm a spooked horse. "Nobody is gonna hurt Andrew, okay? Embry is not going to hurt him."

Jacob's comforting words did nothing but anger him. Harry swore that this garage was getting smaller and smaller by the minute. He looked around widely. Harry was going mad, that's what was happening. This is what he got for becoming all ambitious and thinking he could just come over here without a care in the world.

"You look like you're about to pass out," Jacob said worryingly. "Harry, are you okay?"

No.

No.

He isn't.

He wasn't.

He can't be.

He won't be.

He'll never be.

"No, I'm not fucking okay! Jesus!" Harry yelled, grabbing two handfuls of his hair and pulling hard. So hard his scalp started to ache. He squeezed his eyes closed. "Fuck!"

"I shouldn't have come here," Harry said out loud and frantically but only to himself. "Fuck! I shouldn't have come here."

"Hey," Jacob breathed, a warm hand barely dusting his shoulder. Harry flinched away from him as if the touch burned.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Harry snarled. He took some deep breaths trying to get himself to calm down. He didn't want to reveal himself to yet another person because he couldn't keep his emotions in check. He didn't know what was happening to him. He should have never left his house. He should have stayed in bed where he belonged.

Jacob backed away with his hands in the air. "Okay. Okay," he whispered calmly. He backed to the far end of the garage. "I won't touch you. Why don't you take a seat over there?" There was a bench in the direction Jacob was pointing but Harry didn't want to move. "It's better to faint sitting down."

Harry wasn't gonna bloody faint and he didn't want to take a seat either, no matter how light-headed he felt. "No—no. I don't want to." Then to his own humiliation tears were welling up in his eyes and he couldn't keep them at bay.

What the fuck?

What the ever-loving fuck was wrong with him?

This was not the time or place to have a mental breakdown. He thought that a ten-minute crying session with Andrew had been enough. Apparently not. That was nothing compared to what he felt stirring up inside him.

Everything was hitting him all at once.

Harry dragged in a shuddering breath and tried to batter it back, an onslaught of emotions that he'd been pushing down and away for months and months, for fucking years.

"Oh fuck." Harry choked out and he sat down right where he stood and pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes and started to laugh.

Harry laughed hysterically until his chuckles turned into sobs. Laugh. Sob. Fuck. Harry didn't realize how hard he was sobbing until he heard the sobs echo in his ears. He squished his face into his knees in a meek attempt to silence himself. He couldn't stop breathing heavily, sputtering to get air into his lungs.

He didn't hear Jacob move from his spot on the other side of the garage. Harry didn't fight it when two arms wrapped around him from behind, engulfing his shaky body in the heat it didn't know it needed.

He didn't have it in him.

There was silence in the aftermath and Harry just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Jacob pulled back to give him some room and Harry was grateful for it. What do you say after shit like this happens? Thanks––Won't happen again?

Harry felt his face burn.

He cried in front of Jacob.

Technically on Jacob, too.

It was one thing to cry in front of Andrew, they had a bond, okay? Even so— with Andrew that was just a couple of tears. It was a little crying session, emphasis on the little. And he did feel better after it happened, the weight on his shoulder did lighten just a bit.

But here in this garage. Today. Right now. He broke down in front of Jacob— fucking lost himself completely.

Harry could feel the other boy's hesitation as he shifted from behind Harry over to Harry's side, and tried for a light touch, to see if this meeting could be salvaged. "I bet you don't wanna get to know me now," Harry croaked into his arms. "I'm not all sunshine and daisies."

He could practically feel Jacob smile. The warm body to his right inched closer until they were pressed together, elbow to thigh.

"Yeah I still do," he said without a trace of hesitation and Harry flinched.

Harry lifted his face from his arms. "Oh Jeez, don't do that, mate. Don't be fucking––kind."

"Kind?" Jacob sounded confused. Which made it even worse. Jacob should be running for the hills— vowing not to touch Harry's baggage even with a forty-foot pole.

"I'm – look, I'm not actually a headcase, okay, I do get that I acted like a total freak––-"

"Hey, no—"

"And I like, completely fucked up all the rules of new friendships," he risked a sideways glance.

"There are rules?" Jacob asked, brows high.

"Piss off," Harry said tiredly, ready to get to his feet and off this fucking floor. It was time to go back home and never ever leave again, "You know what I mean."

"Hey— "Jacob said, reaching out to halt his crouched position, ready to spring to his feet. "Don't. Don't go."

The hand around Harry's wrist was a gentle restraint and he stopped, went silent.

There was nothing for a while, then Jacob blew out a long breath and said softly, "My mom died in a car crash when I was eight."

Harry blinked at the change of subject, then said, "Damn."

Jacob tugged gently and Harry sat back down. "The crash paralyzed my Dad," Jacob whispered, "From the waist down. He's in a wheelchair for the rest of his life."

Harry went still as Jacob huffed out an unamused laugh. "My two older sisters left Forks as soon as they were old enough to. They couldn't be bothered to stay with their basket case little brother and crippled dad."

"You know, I was in the car when it happened. I don't remember anything. I got away with nine stitches in the back of my head. All I remember is waking up in the hospital with my mom dead and my dad not being able to walk." Jacob looked at him, eyes bright with tears of his own. "I used to ask myself why couldn't it be me? Said shit like 'It should've been me instead of her'. Y'know the usual."

There was real pain there, Harry recognized the self-mocking tone and it was the only way to cope with having just no hope.

"I had to go to therapy for a while— even though we couldn't afford it. Learn how to talk to people again. Talk about the abandonment issues I didn't even know I had. Talk about survivors' guilt and learning to love myself and shit." Jacob laughed again and it was bitter and grating. "I don't know if it really helped in the end."

"I didn't have any friends until I got the courage to talk to Quil at school. Embry didn't move here till a couple of years ago over from the Makah tribe. We bonded over the fact that we've only got one parent. As sad as that is."

Jacob looked at him and met his eyes and Harry's breath caught at his intensity. "Then becoming a wolf— it fucked me up some more."

"First this fever set in." Jacob quietly. "I started snapping at people, getting angry at the smallest things."

"Then the next thing I know, I'm literally bursting out my skin and I've got people in my head." Jacob's voice deepened to mock whoever told him this. "Telling me I now must protect the land. I now have to do what I was born to do."

Jacob snorted and it was an ugly sound. "All the legends I was told countless times were all real. Vampires. The cold ones. Yeah, they walk this earth and it's my job to defend it."

"Out of everyone in the pack. I'm still the only one that hasn't truly accepted what I am. I'm still clinging to my humanity apparently. Sam was the first one to phase–– phasing is when we turn into a wolf." Jacob explained before getting back on track. "Paul was second. Then Jared and Embry. Then me. Then Quil. Everyone else, they think this shit is cool. They think this shit is exciting." Jacob's voice went all wobbly at the end and he rubbed his eyes. "But I don't. This shit is a nightmare."

"So, you hate it?" Harry swallowed thickly. "Being what you are?"

Jacob shrugged. "I just want to be normal, but I can't be."

Harry could relate. He very much could relate to this. He's been wanting to be normal his whole life but that wasn't up to him and it never was.

"That fucking sucks."

Jacob shrugged again. He was quiet for a while, and then he said: "It is what it is, I guess."

"Yeah," Harry agreed shakily. "It is what it is."

Jacob could have stopped there if he wanted to, but he didn't. He could have stopped a long time ago, but he didn't.

"Then with Bella," Jacob sighed. "Maybe I was being a bit too rough on her when I came to see you at school. Bella didn't toss me aside; it only felt that way. Or hey, maybe she did. It's not as complicated as I made it out to be. I'm a wolf. and her boyfriend is a vampire, my natural enemy. She made her choice and well I–– I made mine. I'm finally taking Embry's advice and I'm leaving myself out of it."

Jacob went quiet again, and Harry guessed that he was finally done.

"So, I get it," Jacob said, softly and earnestly. "I'm not okay either. Sometimes everything just becomes too much and I get it."

"Why'd you tell me all that?"

"Now, we're even-steven."

"Even Steven?"

"Yeah," Jacob said knocking against him. "You're gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay."

Harry sighed. Jacob just didn't get it did he?

"No amount of friends is gonna make me better," Harry griped. "I'm not cut out for this shit anymore. I just want a boring life." Harry buried his face in his hands. "That's all I want but the fucking universe won't give it to me."

When he managed to come out from behind his hands for a moment, Harry saw an expression on Jacob's face that was gentle. Too gentle. "I know," Jacob said, in a voice like dark molasses. "I always knew."

"You knew what?"

Jacob considered a moment before he looked Harry dead in the eye and said with great humility, "The first time I saw you, I knew that you were special."

To his defense, Harry was so awfully tired and reeling from the single most draining emotional outburst of his life. He wasn't equipped for anything like this. Strong hands were now carefully cradling his face, gently urging him to lift his chin. When sad, lonely bright green eyes met sad, lonely brown ones, Harry hid behind his lids like a fucking coward and Jacob took that as permission.

The kiss was feather-soft, a ghost of satin against his lips that only lasted for an instant. When Harry didn't protest or back away, but remained with his face uplifted, his lips available, Jacob tested his luck and kissed him again. This kiss was scary for its intimacy, the way their lips folded together in a dry lock.

Christ, it's been so long. So long. Since he felt something.

Since he actually felt something.

Overwhelmed, Harry ducked his head and took a lungful of air while Jacob, hands still fondling his skull, let his unfinished kiss fall on Harry's temple.

"I can't," Harry pleaded, "I can't do this." It would be so much easier to push Jacob away if his shields were up. But baby, they were down, they were the lowest they were ever going to be.

"It's okay," Jacob replied and tried to duck under Harry's defenses, keening for his lips, but Harry pushed him away with a hand on his chest.

"I can't be what you want me to be." Unable to look into his eyes, Harry fisted a hand in Jacob's shirt to impress upon him the importance of this. "Don't you understand? I can't. I'm damaged goods. You can't just fix me up."

"This doesn't have to change anything," the other boy said. Harry was confused as to how that was a linear reply.

Harry climbed to his feet and Jacob did the same. "What does that even mean? Of course, this changes everything!"

"Listen to me." Jacob took hold of Harry's shoulders and pulled him against his body. "It doesn't have to, I'm your friend."

"Oh, sod off!" Harry yelled, bucking against him.

Jacob didn't even budge. "You're not ready for a relationship. That's okay. I'll wait."

"You'll what?" Harry was sure he heard that incorrectly.

"I'll wait for you."

"What–the–fuck?" Harry stuttered out, struggling to find someplace to put his hands that wasn't on Jacob's massive body. "Jacob, you might be waiting a very very long time for that— "

"That's okay," Jacob said, cutting him off, eyes too soft yet again. "I'll wait." Then Jacob was crowding him against the wall of the garage. His grip on Harry's shoulders turned to a vice lock and when he kissed him, it seared Harry from his lips to his toes.

Oh, Satan have mercy on his soul, please.

"I'm," Harry said softly, defeated when Jacob finally let go of his lips. "I'm too fucked up for this."

"No, you're just the right amount," Jacob vowed and sealed it with a kiss between Harry's eyebrows.

Meanwhile, at school, Andrew was freaking out. How exactly was he supposed to give this envelope to Jasper? He could not— absolutely could not just walk right up to him. That just wasn't possible. He just didn't have it in him. Plus, he didn't know what Jasper's locker was so he couldn't just slip it through the vent.

Andrew was running out of time. It was already the beginning of his second to last period and he didn't want to disappoint Harrison.

A sense of deja vu washed over him as Andrew trudged along to his locker so he could retrieve his trigonometry textbook. He opened his locker to do the trade-off and when he closed it, he jumped half a foot in the air.

"Hello, Andrew," Jasper said, greeting him with the same tight smile from Thursday and Andrew's mouth dropped.

The lord was looking out for him today it seemed. His task just got a hell of a lot easier. He didn't need to find Jasper, Jasper found him.

"Hi Jasper," Andrew said back feeling bold. He and Jasper had to be on a first-name basis by now right?

Jasper's golden eyes narrowed, and he got straight to business. "Have you heard from Harrison?"

Andrew smiled brightly. "As a matter of fact, yes I have." Andrew opened his backpack and pulled out the sacred envelope he's been walking around with all day. "He told me to give this to you."

Jasper snatched it out his hand quick, so quick Andrew barely saw him move.

Andrew frowned and said, "Hey, snatching is rude!"

He shut right up at the look on Jasper's face though. Andrew thought he looked like Smeagol from Lord of the Rings, not appearance-wise, but just his expression. It looked oddly desperate.

Now he really wanted to know what Harrison was giving Jasper.

The final bell rang and, no matter how much Andrew wanted Jasper to open that envelope right in front of him, he needed to get to class. So, he zipped up his backpack, held his trig textbook like a child and prepared to head to class. "I've gotta go."

"Thank you, Andrew." Jasper gave him a grateful look, an expression Andrew's never seen before on, but one he was in awe to receive.

"You're welcome." Andrew ran to class, reaching the door just before Miss Lee decided to lock it.

Even after Andrew ran to class, Jasper remained in the hallway, staring at the sealed envelope in his hands with a curious expression. He ripped it open and peeked inside, surprised when he saw what was inside.

Inside sat three perfect blood pops. But not only was there one extra blood pop, there was also a note.

It read:

I'm fine and a deal's a deal.

-HP

Jasper held the envelope and the note to his chest and smiled.


Well, there it is! It's now officially on and popping. Let me know what you think. Stay safe out there my loves.