Among the Fallen.

chapter one.

A/N: a healthy reminder, Italics are all about Harry's memories. Enjoy!

Harry's POV.

Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in.

          - Hoax, Taylor Swift.

Chester, United Kingdom. 2021.

"Here's your coffee, cappuccino mocha" she put the cup of coffee in front of me. I glanced when I heard her voice, my lips curved into a smile.

Every time I would look at her I would still get mesmerized by her. She was a ray of sunshine in my gloomy city. She took every storm away and painted a rainbow in my sky.

Annabeth Hastings was all mine and I was hers.

"Harry?" Dr. Bishop called my name, I blinked twice. A faded smile drew on her face as I slowly looked back at her. The smell of chamomile tea came all the way through my nose, and my stomach hurt a little. I hadn't eaten a thing for the whole day. The cup of tea was placed in front of me, I sided eyed it and then looked straight to the window. Dr. Bishop would do this every time I would lose myself in my own world, which was pretty much every session. She insisted that if bodies were full of liquids they would actually have better function, I don't know, something like that. She had this maternal vibe even though she was younger than me.

The thing is, I liked coffee. I've hated tea since she's been gone.

"Seriously, what is that you are always drinking?" I asked, she sat in front of me with her regular Jenny's cafe cup, except that it wasn't coffee. She worked at a cafe but she had never drank a cup of coffee. Ironic, right? I closed the books in front of me, giving her my full attention, not that it was that hard. It was actually my favorite hobby.

"It's green tea with lemon and cranberry" her nose wrinkled after taking a sip. "and it's also really hot that I just burned my tongue." we both chuckled, I stared right at her, it was my favorite view. She was unaware of my eyes on her, always lost in her little world or as I like to call it, Annabethland. She tied her long blonde hair in a high ponytail letting me admire every inch of her face. How did I get so lucky?

"Green tea with lemon and cranberry? Who drinks that?" I raised my eyebrows while trying to hide another laugh. Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose, and hit my foot under the table. "Hey! What was that for?"

"What was what?" She smirked. I leaned back in the chair, her hand getting closer to mine, playing with my fingers. Follow the butterflies, they said. Annabeth Hastings is going to kill me.

I've seen a lot of therapists in the span of six months, specifically nine therapists. Let's see, there was Amelia Banks, Erica Williams, Diane Taylor, Arnold Davies, Isaac Reynolds, Lilliane Wood, Mike Carter, Lauren Beckett, and Patrick Anderson. Lastly, Alanna Bishop who is my current therapist and who I've been seeing for two weeks, well three weeks if we count this one.

Therapy; treatment intended to relieve or heal a disorder. Healing isn't linear I know that, (it would be dumb if I didn't, considering the amount of therapists I've gone to) but I'm not relieved or healed, I'm just wasting my time and my money by sitting here trapped in these four walls. Does therapy work for you? Good! Great! Amazing! I'm happy for you. Do you know what would work for me? See my girlfriend. Hug my girlfriend. Kiss my girlfriend.

And that's something therapy would never give me.

I could feel the woman in front of me sitting on her cream 'L' shaped couch. I had a couch like that in my old house, Annabeth spilled red wine on it. We could never get rid of the stain, I bet it is still there. My therapist didn't say anything. Instead, she stared at the same window I was looking at. Silence reigned the place, a silence that I adored and despised at the same time. I guess she didn't care to be silent as long as I paid for the whole hour of therapy. Well, it's not actually an hour. It's fifty minutes, but to this day I still can't comprehend how as you enter the room time suddenly moves slower. Why did my days with Annabeth go by so fast? Why didn't they last longer?