Ablaze

12

I couldn't determine when I had fallen asleep, but the book of poems lay haphazardly next to me when I roused. Disorientated, dread coursed through me as I absorbed my unfamiliar surroundings.

It only took a few hammering beats of my heart to recognize I was in Harry's room. At the realization, I instantly softened into the warmth of the sheets. The events of last night swirled through my mind, everything coming back to me as I regained groggy consciousness.

The sluggishness alleviated, allowing me to bask in the evergrowing sensation of contentment, thankful Harry and I had eventually made it back to each other.

My grin faltered as I recalled the agonizing events that had provoked our separation. The distress we had both shared, resorting to the cruelty we had to inflict on ourselves and others to survive.

Grasping Harry had waited seven years, believing it was best for me, drove my heart to constrict. He had put me before himself, accepting that sacrificing his happiness was what would keep me safe.

Unknowingly, it would have been better if he had taken me directly from the hospital. But, simultaneously, the events that had occurred might not have evolved the same way. Wanting to assume that it was fate that I found my way here accidentally, I concentrated on that first. Walking blindly through a dense forest with no light, shoes, or means of survival. The route I instinctually took led me straight to him.

Regardless, Harry would have taken me in fifty-two days.

Rubbing my eyes and yawning softly, I lazily rolled over to Harry's side, discovering he wasn't next to me. Swiftly turning, my attention was directed straight to the armchair. Harry was still sitting in it, reading what appeared to be more paperwork.

I glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed, the harsh red light blinking 08:14.

For the first time in a long time, I felt well-rested, my sleep unplagued by nightmares. It was as if the weight I carried on my tense shoulders had been pacified just from being surrounded by Harry.

I silently examined him for a moment, the dark circles beneath his eyes prominent, his chapped bottom lip weighed down by his teeth as he read. Even sitting casually, he still oozed fierce intimidation, his expression set in stone.

As if hyperaware, he glanced up from the papers, making eye contact. He had a lit cigarette between his lips, my focus darting to the copious amounts of them in the ashtray.

"You didn't sleep?" I hesitantly grilled, unsure how Harry would act after the nostalgia had worn off.

"Not tired. You hungry?"

"Not really, but I could go for a coffee. Let me just get changed." Harry nodded in acceptance, remaining seated.

I promptly slid from the bed, surprised by how refreshed I felt. Usually, I was a grimacing mess, tense and irritated, my muscles aching from being so rigid.

Casting one final anxious glance at Harry, I hastily went next door to my room.

Hurriedly showering, my feelings of rejuvenation increased ten-fold when I was able to lather proper skincare. I opted to apply some light makeup, using a blood-red lipstick I had slipped into my basket yesterday. Rubbing my lips together, I inspected my appearance in the still cracked mirror.

My eyes spoke volumes, finally resembling sentience, as the persistent blush lingered with thoughts of Harry.

Wandering out of the bathroom in just my underwear, I stood in front of my drawers, determining what I should wear for the day. I didn't have any plans, and I hoped that I would see Louis at some point so that I could ask him about self-defense training.