Wistful Paradise / H.S. [COMPLETE]

Twenty Eight

Florence

I scratched Bono behind his ears mindlessly while watching the same TV show. I was five seasons deep, only two left until I was finished and I would probably rewatch it again anytime soon.

I was quite nervous to see Harry again. Normally I'd be waiting in the hallway for him until the door would open and I would jump into his arms, clinging onto him like a koala. 

Now, I gladly gave Bono that role as the door opened. His head perked up and I looked at him excitingly. "Go, boy, go hug him for me," I cooed silently and then watched him leave, his tail wagging as he made his way towards Harry.

I hear a bag land with a thud before Harry's voice filled my ears and I visibly relaxed. "Hey, Bo, I missed you, buddy," His raspy voice said, he sounded sleepy but the rasp in his voice made me feel at home. Even while we were apart, we haven't gone more than a week without actually talking and now it's been a little over two weeks.

My eyes stayed on the hallway, while I listened to my two favourite boys. Our house was filled with Bono's whining and Harry's sweet mumbles until it stopped and I saw our four legged teddybear coming back to me. 

And then I saw Harry, I was clutching onto my cup of tea while I watched him. He kind of looked miserable, his eyes were redrimmed and sleep-deprived and his skin looked paler than it usually would.

Our eyes met but no words were shared between the two of us. Harry walked passed me and up the stairs. I watched him leave and heard the door shut behind him before it opened up once again and I heard his feet shuffling down the stairs.

I turned my head towards the staircase and watched him as he made a stop and leaned against the wall, his eyes looking directly at me.

"You fled," Was the first thing that left his mouth and I looked at him in surprise, trying to excuse myself but Harry beat me to it. "You know what that makes you right? A coward."

I winced at the thought of the words I had once muttered when he tried to flee. I still remember standing there while he was trying to leave me and I remember the way I felt about it.

"You're fleeing," I told him boldly, trying to take a hold of his hand. His feet came to a halt when I held his hand carefully.  He needed to hear these words, he was not some doll his therapist could toy around with when they felt like it.

I didn't even let him make up a bullshit excuse before the sharp words left my lips. "Harry, I'm gonna be brutally honest with you, alright? Do you know what feeling makes you?" I paused, looking directly into his forest green eyes with a bold look. I'm normally not like this, this direct and mean but I felt like I had to. Because it is exactly what he would want to hear. "Fleeing makes you a coward."

Even though that happened almost nine years ago, I was still so fresh in my memory. And now I felt bad about ever muttering those words.

Because I did flee.

Things were getting too hard and instead of working things out, I ran away. "I did flee," I agreed quietly.

The room fell quiet, the only thing we could hear was our dog quietly padding over to the kitchen to drink or eat.

"Well?" He pried, still leaning against the wall with raised eyebrows and an offended glare set on me. 

"What do you want me to say, Harry? That I'm sorry?" I asked in a defensive tone, immediately regretting the tone of my voice. I wasn't in the position to be angry, yet my voice had raised. 

"It would be a nice start," Harry told me, his body stiff against the wall. "I don't understand why you left me like that?"

"I knew you would be alright on your own. If I'd doubted your feelings I wouldn't have left you," Explaining your reasoning when you already know your spouse isn't going to understand it, is the absolute worst.