The Me You Can't See (H.S)

55

Haven's POV:

Prying my eyes open I feel like I've been run over by a semi. My head pounds and I feel like the weight of a thousand cars is holding me down to my bed. I didn't get much sleep last night , constantly opening my eyes to double check Malcolm isn't here, to make sure that the hand wrapped around me doesn't belong to anyone but Harry. Each time I woke up scared and each time I went back to sleep relieved. 

My room remains just as dark as it did when I stitched up Harry last night and if I didn't notice the clock I would have thought I slept through the day. But with great effort, I pull myself out of bed upon noticing the lack of warmth I usually get from Harry. 

The minute my bare feet hit the floor I realize just how cold I am despite the sweat I wiped from my head, so throwing on a pair of sweat and socks after brushing my teeth, I make my way to the kitchen. I have no clue where Harry is or whether he's even still here, but upon entering the living room, there he sits on my couch with his phone in his lap. 

I don't think I've ever seen him without it, always mindlessness typing away with that crease between his brows. If I didn't know better I would worry something was wrong, but I've quickly come to understand, that's just how he is whenever that stupid thing is stuck to his hands. 

"I'm gonna throw that fucking thing in the trash one day."  I mumble not bothering to greet him. 

He looks up from his phone as I pass by him, typing one last message before setting it down. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." he says with a bite in his tone. 

"You can't exactly wake up if you never feel asleep." I mock childishly with my back to him as I turn on my kettle. 

Bracing my hands on the counter I take in a deep breath, as deep as I can considering my nose is so stuffed. God what is wrong with me today? "I'm sorry, I'm just tired." I turn around, crossing my hands before leaning on the counter. 

"I know, it's ok." he offers me a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Despite everything we forgot in those hours last night, we can't forget about them forever and it's still very much weighing on us. 

We stay in awkward silence, something that has never happened to us before. Staring at the other, he turns off the tv that had been silently playing before giving me his full and undivided attention. 

"We can't avoid this forever can we?" he chuckles humourlessly and with great effort, I pull myself to sit on the counter, my knees pulled to my chest. 

"No, we can't." I smile weakly. 

"I'm sorry." he mumbles quickly and I meet my eyes to see him. "I never should have acted like that towards you. I don't know what I was thinking." he leans forward with his elbows resting against his knees. 

"You yelled at me. . .and I know you think something happened but nothing did, I swear to you." I tell him earnestly, needing him to hear me so fucking clearly. 

"I know baby, I believe you." he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

"Then why did you get so mad? Why didn't you just talk to me and ask me what happened before you came to your own conclusions?" I sniff my nose before continuing. "Instead you just stood there and called me a slut for lack of a better word." I remind him, watching as he flinches at the term. 

"I didn't fucking mean it, please tell me you know that? It just came out and I was so mad and I-" he gets his words jumbled, his brain moving too fast for him to keep up. 

"I just-, But I-, This-" he lets out a frustrated breath and I smile seeing how hard he's trying even though he doesn't know how to say it. 

"Take a deep breath baby." I cut in and he look so innocent and child like as he follows my instruction, calming himself down. I take the time to speak, allowing him time to sort his thoughts out.