Sweet Tooth [HS]

TWENTY FOUR

Six years and one week later.

It had been a week, a whole bloody week since Harry's secret confession, and Max felt like she was a ticking time bomb- like she was about to explode or spontaneously combust at any given moment. It was like she was stuck between waiting for Harry to say something, for him to actually do something, and wanting to just grab his face and tell him herself how she really felt.

She didn't know how long she could bite her tongue, how long she could keep going like this.

Max hadn't slept at all after she'd heard those words. Had tossed and turned all night mulling them over in her mind. She'd wondered whether to question him further and risk looking stupid in case she'd interpreted it all wrong. She'd thought to whisper something back, but what could she say?

Harry, I care about you too. I care about you more than I ever have in my entire life and you're the only one. Harry you have my soul. Harry you have my whole heart.

Harry I love you.

God, it was ridiculous. Absolute insanity.

And it wasn't like he was acting any different. He was just being normal. All playful and teasing and never mentioning anything about feelings or caring or what the fuck was going on between them. Plus, he hadn't mentioned anything about Finn, which made Max question if he cared at all. She knew she'd been green with jealousy when she saw him with that blonde girl, but Harry was acting like nothing ever happened. Like he didn't care.

And so Max was stuck. Sort of just going along with everything despite the inner turmoil, the inner chaos that was making her feel like an accident waiting to happen.

But Harry was gone now, for the first time in a week, and she sort of welcomed the relief of not feeling like she was about to erupt in front of his face. He'd left yesterday for Manchester. He had a show up there tonight, and he was staying with his parents for the rest of the weekend. Max didn't know if she should embrace the time to think, to breathe, or mourn how suddenly lonley she felt.

Yeah, at least she didn't have to worry about springing an 'I love you' on him at any second- but still. Waking up this morning without him- it felt, well, wrong. Like something was missing. Like there was a part of her that wasn't there.

Over the past week she'd grown accustomed to having Harry around. Had gotten used to waking up too hot, to seeing his floppy hair sprawled on her stomach and having his arms wrapped too tight around her waist. She missed his groggy morning voice and the way he said her name. Missed his smile and the sound of his guitar and the cigarettes he rolled for her.

Max missed him.

And not in the way she had all the times before. Not how she did after he'd drop in for an evening and then disappear for months. This time, it was different. This time, he actually stayed.

And so Max had enjoyed her fairytale week where they were playing house and forgetting the world moving around them. Had sort of gotten comfortable with Harry being with her morning and noon and night. All the kisses, the touches, the smiles- it was all so perfect.

Despite, of course, her slowly crippling need to scream at him I heard you. What do you mean?

But Max was good at surpressing things like that. She had 6 years of silence, of quiet dissatisfaction to show for it.

But now he was gone, and she supposed she was a little glad she didn't have to look into his eyes and pretend like everything was totally and completely and entirely fine, when really she felt like she was fumbling through the dark needing to know how the fuck he really felt.