Wish Upon A Star [H.S]

8

Steam rises from the piping hot mug of coffee that sits in front of him. The tapping of his foot follows the tic and toc of the clock that's hung over the door arch. His eyes are trained on her, waiting for her to bat so much as an eyelash in his direction. She sits there across the table, beverage in one hand, newspaper in the other. He's not sure if what she's reading is just that interesting, or she's making quite the effort to ignore him. The ticking seems to grow louder and louder with every second she chooses to forget his existence.

"I think we should invite the kids over," he blurts out, not being able to take much more of this unbearable ticking. Anne's eyes barely flicker his way. "You know, before Y/n goes back to New York, yeah?" He grazes over his ears, but it's like he can't block out that damn clock.

A crinkling sound elicits from the turning of the page, "Sounds great, Eric."

He licks over his front teeth and wriggles his jaw from side to side to ease the pent-up tension.

"Right then."

***

William must think he's so clever. He arrived this morning around half past ten, claiming that he had spent the night on a friend's couch. Yet, the reek of some cheap perfume and the obvious stench of sex lingered around him when he'd passed her. This doesn't bother her, in fact, it's come as quite the relief. Now whatever guilt that would have loomed over her has completely fizzled into dust. She had kissed Harry last night; the tingles still haven't left her body.

They hadn't talked about where this puts them in terms of if they're officially back together. To be honest, they hadn't done much talking at all. After Harry had told her about William, all she could think to do was hug him. His arms felt so good around her frame, and she can't remember the last time she had felt so safe. They laid there, reacquainting their eyes to the image of the other. It had all been so surreal, they're six years older and dare she think even six years wiser, but her heart still pounds the same way it did six years prior.

In a few hours, Harry is coming back to pick her up, so he can tour her around the city. It'll be the first time she'll be able to actually experience London. She'd visited a few times before, but mostly for touring campuses that spread throughout the city. Now, it's like she's a vacationer.

"I'm going out later," she calls to William from the bathroom. All morning, she's been trying to breakup with him. After Harry had left, she began packing up all of her belongings. And she's successfully gotten everything stuffed in her suitcase, which he must have failed to notice on his way in.

"Again? With who?" she hears his steps approaching until she can see him in the mirror.

"Harry," she states, voice neutral.

He eyes her suspiciously. "I just think it's strange," he starts, "that you never mention this brother of yours, when it turns out you two are obviously close."

"Yes, well, I think it's time I made a few adjustments anyway," she starts. He's taken to admiring his own reflection, giving her the bare minimum of his attention. "We're done."

Suddenly he hastily turns to her, disgruntled by what she had just so casually announced. "I'm sorry?" His face is scrunched up, eyes squinting so much that the irises are the only parts visible.

"Let's not play this game, William. We both know where you really were last night."

"Don't be like that, Dollface," he extends his arms over to her, ready to engulf her in a hug, but she puts her hand out to prevent him from getting any closer. The bottoms of his shoes squeak against the tiled floor as he comes to a sudden halt. "You're serious?"