Spotlight |h.s|

Sixty Six

Aubrey Hart

The past couple of days have been rough. Very very rough.

Harry has been in need of a lot more comfort from me in the same way that he did after telling me about Thomas. Who used to hate being the receiver of physical touch has become the one initiating it in times of need like this one.

I'm not just talking about the simple hold of a hand this time, either. I'm usually in the middle of doing something when he needs me. Reading, cooking, brushing my hair, anything. Every time he starts to feel the weight of everything he's been told caving in on him, he tightly wraps his arms around me and stops me from whatever task I was trying to complete beforehand.

Each hug is very long, too. We always end up standing in the same spot for at least ten silent minutes, his mind so full of everything he's heard recently that he needs me to help shut it off for a moment.

This is really wearing him out. He always looks unbelievably tired, like how I would after crying for the entire night. He's noticeably quieter, today being the first time he's said more than ten words.

And almost all of them were spoken to Ruby over a phone line.

He couldn't keep this from her much longer. No matter how much it was going to kill him to tell her and hear her reaction to the loss of their mother and circumstances of both of their conceptions, he had to get it over with. He also had to share the fact that their mom was somehow killed by Thomas while the three of them lived under the same roof. It was nine years ago. That means he was 16 and Ruby was 10.

The majority of the call was spent with Harry attempting to comfort her through his own incredibly pained voice. I could see how much it hurt him written all over his face, so I can't even imagine how Ruby must've taken everything. It takes a lot to get an emotional reaction from Harry, leading me to believe that it was very hard for her to hear.

I can't get over the coincidence that I just so happened to be reading a book that unlocked a huge portion of their past without even meaning to. Of all people, what were the odds that it would be me reading it?

After the phone call, Harry was completely drained. I was laying on the couch calmly listening to it all, and he came my way the second he hung up. In one of his moments of need for me, he laid on top of my body with his head resting on my stomach as if it was his own personal pillow.

He didn't say anything, the only noise leaving his lips being a satisfied hum when I began running my fingers through his hair. His arms wrapped tightly around me in a hug, head turned to face the blank TV and eyes closed.

He ended up falling asleep, leaving us in the position we're still in now for the past two hours. It's given me some time to think over everything while staring down at his relaxed sleeping face. I draped my lavender blanket over the two of us, pulling it up so only his head his visible outside of the covering.

I hate that there's always one of us feeling so worn down by everything we've been put through. Me with the club incident, him with telling me about Thomas, me after reading Elora's letter, and now this. Since I moved in nearly three weeks ago, this loft has felt like some kind of mental health facility with how much crying and hugging and venting we've been doing.

We've been through hell recently, never once catching a minute to breathe. I miss the days when I could walk around by myself and feel safe. The days where I wasn't constantly worried about my presence putting other people in danger because of whoever it is watching me.

I can't even begin to describe my immense fear of the anonymous stalker that has also gone mute since the club. My situation and Harry's mom's are similar for a reason that's most likely more than a coincidence, which leads both Harry and I to believe that Thomas is somehow involved.