He’s not there the next week, not at all. I walk to the bakery every morning, expecting to see his body curled up against the white wall but I don’t.
It’s like he disappeared and I know I shouldn’t, but I worry for him. I worry about whether he’s okay or hot, whether something happened or not.
The next Sunday, I walk to work again, not passing the spot at the bakery, I want to go there on purpose, make a few extra steps to see if he’s okay but I don’t.
I know I need to get him out of my mind, need to start addressing my own problems instead. I should call my mum again, my sisters as well. I should send the money back to my dad, write another of my emails in which I tell him to stop sending me any.
Instead, all I do is think about him and his curls and the way he’d say sorry and his green, green, sad eyes.
I walk to work instead of taking the train because I’m really not in the mood for seeing more people today.
The walk takes way too long and it’s cold again, the wind blowing into my face, messing up my hair entirely. I arrive five minutes too late as well.
I smile at Ed, one of my co-workers before I walk behind the counter to start serving.
The shift goes by slowly. I try not to think of Harry the whole time but it doesn’t work at all. All I think about is him.
All I think about is if he’ll be alright, where he might be, if he made it out of my flat safely.
It makes working harder and Ed has to tell me to concentrate on not dropping any plates way too often.
By the end I don’t drop a plate but an-at least empty-glass.
“Fuck, sorry”, I say as Ed hands me the cleaning stuff, “Really can’t concentrate today.”
He smiles and nods, helping me clean up.
“No worries, mate. Maybe you should just go home early, I’ll do the last half hour for you.”
I smile and shrug at the same time. I could use the money but then again, all I want to do is drop into bed and talk to my mum over phone for a little.
“Sure?”
He nods, taking the broken glass and throwing it into the trash bag.
“Sure. You look like you have a lot on your mind, maybe you should talk to that person you apparently can’t stop thinking about when you get home.”
I nod, trying not to look as tired as I am, thank him again and then make my way back home. If only I could talk to Harry. I would, if I knew where he was. I’d grasp the chance and talk to him, help him somehow.
Fuck, I can’t keep doing this. I need to find him; I need to know he’s okay.
At home the first thing I do is lay down on my bed and dial the number of my old home.
“Hi, baby”, Mum says and hearing her calm voice relaxes me immediately.
“Hi, mum”, I say, sighing and leaning against the headboard carefully, “How are you and the girls doing?”
“We’re doing well, honey. The girls and I went on a little trip this weekend, Mark was working.”
I smile, feeling calmer with every minute I talk to her. She still has this effect on me after being away form home for two years.
“How is it for you?”, she asks, “Is uni going well?”
I nod until I realize she can’t see. “Yes. Going very well, thank you mum. I miss you all.”
“I miss you too. You have to come visit soon, will you?”
“Yeah, I will as soon as I am free a weekend. Had a lot to do the last ones.”
“Oh”, she says, “Uni or private?”
“Both”, I say and sigh, “Studied a lot with Zayn in the library.”
“Don’t overwork yourself, love. Take some breaks as well.”
I nod again and enjoy the silence for a few seconds, hearing the girls chatter in the background, wishing I was there and everything was easy.
I want to go back home suddenly, back to when everything was easy and carefree.
“I will. Just need to work a lot this month, money is getting little.”
“Oh, honey”, she says, sighing, “You’re still not taking his money, are you? You know I’d support you more if I could.”
“No, I am not”, I say, hearing the way my voice gets colder as the topic appears again.
I hear her sigh again and I roll my eyes. She shouldn’t pressure me into something I am not ready for yet and then again, I know she’s right what makes it even worse.
“I wish you’d talk to him.”
“I know mum, and I get it. I’m just not ready yet.”
“Baby, I know. And that’s fine. I just think you’d be better of if you took some of its at least. I know you don’t want to and I don’t want to talk you into it.”
“Thanks mum.”
We talk for some more before I hang up, staring at my phone for a while, as if I was waiting for the black screen to solve my problems.
It’s quiet in my flat, ever so quiet and it’s not like Harry made any noise ever, he tried his best to appear invisible, but it felt nice, knowing he was in the living room, safe and warm.
I make myself some tea, change into my pyjamas and sit down on the couch, tracing along the old seam.
The fabric reminds me of him, the dark blue of the couch that matched so well with the light blue colour of his small blanket he always covered himself with.
I just want him to be okay. My thoughts won’t stop drifting towards him, not even when I turn on my favourite TV series.
Not even the voice of my comfort characters is able to calm me this time when the only think I’d need to feel relax is seeing him again, hearing his slow and carefully chosen words again.
~~~
hope you like everything so far♡
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scarred wings (l.s.)
FanfictionLouis studies teaching at university. On his way there, he passes a homeless boy every morning. Harry has scars, they can't always be seen. Some are covered by the dark ink on his skin. Louis really likes Harry's butterfly tattoo.
