Legendary // H.S

62.

'Take my mind and take my pain'

*

Healing isn't an overnight process. It isn't something that just miraculously happens at the click of your fingers. It isn't something that someone can just take away and deal with on your behalf. It isn't something there is a cure for. Healing is both a blessing and curse because it provides the relief you crave while also taking away the importance of your grief and love. I'm healing, but somehow I want to fight it.

It's been over a month since Dad died. One whole month without my best friend. It still feels like yesterday. I can recall the sounds of the machinery in his hospital room as they beeped frantically, I can smell the disinfectant of the wards, I can taste the tears that streamed down my face. Sometimes when I close my eyes I'm back there, witnessing it all over again. But it never feels familiar; it's like a new memory every time, even if it is the same.

My sleep is slowly getting better, but I have the same afflictions every night. The only difference is feeling more comfortable with having Harry comfort me now. I let him in the bed, I let him hold me, I let him talk to me. There is still some doubt that he's really there, that it's not one of the monsters in my mind threatening to hurt me again, but when I hear his voice it reminds me of my safety.

I've always felt safe with Harry. There's never been a moment I've questioned it with him. From the moment I met him he made it clear he would protect me, and though I've proven myself able to do so without the help of others, sometimes we have to let them take care of us. Sometimes we have to admit defeat and accept the care of others when we can no longer look after ourselves.

And he's never judged me for it. Never pushed me into his arms; he only waited until I was ready. Now, I find the comfort I've been craving since the worst day of my life. He gives me solace, a place to rest my weary head. He allows me to process things however I wish to, for as long as I need. Harry never questions my motives or intentions. Everything is allowed when I'm in his arms, his lips planting soft kisses along my skin as if new flowers will grow in their place. Through his touch, a new Spring will begin, life reborn.

Harry is my home. Everything else has been lost, but he remains. He'll always remain.

Ever since his confession of his love for me, I've replayed his words in my head on a loop. Every single sentence is ingrained in my brain, tattooed forever against the tissue so I'll never forget them. In that moment of panic, he brought me back down to Earth and reminded me how valued I am. How loved I am. That I am capable of being loved.

It's an odd feeling, accepting the love of another. For so long I have had the people I've relied on abandon me or betray me. My mother, my friends, even Joe. Everyone in my life, other than Dad, has helped to build up the walls I used to shield myself from pain, because they are the cause of it. When Dad died, it felt like the only person I could trust had left me and I was alone. In some ways I still grapple with that feeling. I suppose I always will. But then Harry told me he loves me, he told me that I am his purpose. I am his cosmic plan.

A phrase I used to describe our relationship not long ago when we were still coming to understand it. When we laid in the back of his car after we visited his family and he held me so tightly out of fear that I'd slip away. That night I had to convince him how I'd never leave him. He told me he wanted to be a good person for me, and I reassured him just how much I cherish him.

For that reason, I could never slip away from him. His hold is so tight, but so is mine. I grip him even harder, I think. Because I'm terrified of losing him too. Harry makes me feel things I've never experienced before, emotions that hardly make sense to me, yet I allow them with each passing day to grow. Though he's been able to verbalise his own, I'm not sure when I'll be ready too because it's a foreign feeling having someone love me. No one ever has. Not in the way he does. I want to believe that I reciprocate it, but there will always be a voice in my head refusing me to say it aloud because the moment I do my heart will be vulnerable to being crushed.