Buttercup [H.S]

Chapter Twenty Six

Harry suggests that Krish and I swap tents for the second night we camp in the Peaks.

He says he needs space from me. That we'd been spending too much time together, and it was making it hard for him to think clearly.

Stupidly, after I'd finally apologised and he'd held me until I managed to stop crying into his hoodie, I thought he'd forgive me.

But Harry had had enough.

Enough of me giving just tiny fractions of myself to him, but never quite enough. He'd given me so much of himself. And what had I done in return? Betrayed him all those years ago, only to return ten years later, an absolute mess of a woman clinging on to him for dear life.

I'd managed to kid myself that the small progress I'd made in recent weeks would have been enough. Going to therapy. His friends becoming mine. Inviting him into my house. When really, it never was enough. Because I still couldn't move on; which meant I couldn't give myself to him the way he needed.

I'd been lying to myself, but in reality the entire time I'd spent with Harry in recent months I was holding my breath, knowing it'd all come crashing down at some point. I'd never been all in like he was.

"We need to be okay without each other," he'd whispered into my hair last night, as the darkness of the tent wrapped us up in our own little world. "You can't...you can't keep using me to prop yourself up. And I can't keep letting you do it. It's not fair on either of us."

What did that mean for us? That he didn't want to be friends anymore? The thought had be swallowing a lump lodged in my throat.

The whole thing was confusing. I wasn't entirely sure where his decision had come from, but he'd spent a long time in that tent silent, holding me in the darkness, seeming consumed with his thoughts.

So I didn't fight him. Just nodded, and the next morning I asked Krish if I could sleep with Lucy that night. He agreed quickly, with a soft sad smile; and judging by the way our friends barely looked at us over the breakfast next morning, I knew they'd overheard Harry and I arguing in the night.

Harry avoided me entirely the next day. We took another hike, an easier one this time that involved less of an incline and instead clambering over giant boulders that lead us to a tranquil little stream hidden in a forest.

In a clearing just behind the stream, the ground was blanketed in a mix of green and yellow; a little circle full to the brim of buttercups.

I found Harry there, alone, back to me with his hands deep in his pockets. I watched him for a moment, and stepped up to his side. I wanted to say something; try and mend what I had broken. Wondering exactly when I'd fractured us, realising there'd been cracks forming all along.

Perhaps Harry had finally snapped.

I went to place a hand on his arm, opened my mouth to speak, but he shook his head.

"Don't."

He walked away, and I stand staring at the clearing of buttercups. I can't help the twist in my stomach, wondering if he knew this place was here. If he'd visited before, and planned this hike today to show it to me. It was exactly the sort of sentimental thing he'd do.

Lucy and Sarah try to keep me busy. They hang back with me, letting the three boys walk ahead, and they chat quietly about trivial things.

I can't focus on their words and eventually they give up. I spend the day watching every move he makes.

I hadn't done enough. Just as I thought, my apology was worthless.

Harry was too good, too pure, too kind.