blind. 2 | styles (hariana)

XI. Fragmented Extents

~ Ariana ~

I could sense his curious eyes on me when I placed the napkin in my purse. I felt his knee brush against my inner thigh, causing me to look up at him.

Harry was staring quietly at my purse, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at what I had done. When our eyes met, I gave him a small smile. His lips pursed into a pout and he tilted his head to the side while I mirrored his actions.

He let out a soft chuckle and shook his head, smiling down at the table. I grinned, how is it our most meaningful thoughts are heard through silence, I thought to myself. My actions justified that I still had feelings for Harry. Even if I did not have the moral courage to speak my feelings, I wanted to at least show him.

It's these moments with him when I know it's going to be hard to forgive him. Up until recently I hadn't given his wrong doings the slightest thought. I was willing myself not to care, but he's pierced a hole through my heart and it's not so easily ignored.

I wanted us to be like we were. In love, happy, together. But then I look at him; really look at him, and I see everything he' done wrong-- to hurt me, to hurt others. I wondered frequently how long it would take for me to look at him and not feel pain.

"What are you thinking about?"

I silently shrugged, not trusting my voice. Harry leaned forward on his elbows, but with the sudden close proximity, I leaned back.

"Tell me more about Australia."

"What do you want to know?" I finally said, after a minute of silence.

"Did you meet anyone?"

I wanted to laugh at his obvious concern. One of the upsides to being able to see is being able to finally see how Harry reacts to certain things. For example, the utter fury in his body when I walked away from him to speak to Ezra and now, the worry in his green eyes that he was right and that I had managed to move on from him while I was gone.

But I shook my head, "No, there was no one. Firstly not many Aussies are keen on dating a girl who's spending eighteen hours a day in a hospital room and second, I-" No not now, don't choke now.

It was too late. Like a tsunami, every emotional deteriorating moment of my life entered my mind. My breathing became shallow and the dark spots were becoming prevalent, like a penumbra of pain.

I wanted to tell him that it was his fault, that he ruined any chance of me trusting a man with my heart, and that because of him love seemed like a suicide note for the soul.

But with the mix of still loving him, consuming his presence and hearing him speak about love brought utter confusion into the mix of hatred I should have.

In the darkness of my thoughts, I hadn't realized that Harry had crouched down in front of me, holding a plastic bag around my nose and mouth. The warmth of his palm sent tingles through my thigh while his lips moved.

"Breathe baby, just breathe." He encouraged me, and I did just that.

People were watching us, giving Harry a judgmental look as if to say, why the hell is this man trying to suffocate her? I wanted to laugh so badly because he was actually doing the opposite, but I needed to breathe first.

He kissed my forehead before standing up again, and despite the considerable confusion in my heart and mind it did not change the fact that I still wanted some sort of comfort, even from him.

"We should head back." Harry said as he placed our garbage all on one tray. He gave me one last concerned look before carrying the tray to the trash bin.