scarred wings (l.s.)

twenty-three

Two evenings after we went shopping, I get home from work and Harry surprises me with dinner once again. I guess that’s a bit like our thing now.

It makes me giddy, the way he’s so excited for me to try the food and the way he waits until I took the first bite and tell him that I like it before he starts eating.

Today he made some curry and rice and I honestly think he should become a cook in the future. I tell him over and over again until he nods with a smile and promises to consider it.

Harry isn’t as happy as he was two days ago today. I think about asking if something happened because I know not everything is fine, the way he keeps moving his fork around in his rice, but I decide not to.

It’s not like we’d trust each other that much yet. Those two outbursts of sadness he had a few weeks ago were the only times he ever told me about anything related to his feelings.

He smiles anyways, dimple in his cheek and I wonder if he ever thinks about the way I just poked my finger into his cheek carefully because I do, a lot. I can’t stop thinking about how smooth and soft his skin felt under mine and how pink and puffy his lips look and how maybe I’d like to-

“Lou?”

I only now notice how long I must’ve been staring so I look up, blushing again because Harry did notice, way earlier probably and he’s now chuckling quietly.

Lou. It’s happened four more times. Not that I’m counting or anything. Well, a little maybe. I quite like him calling me that. Feels as if he thought of me like a friend already.

Harry takes another bite and keeps chewing slowly while looking at me and I have to stare down at the table before I go absolutely crazy with the way his jaw moves when he chews.

“Thanks for cooking”, I say when my plate is empty and lean back in my chair, hands on my tummy, “Was really fucking good.”

He laughs and nods contently before moving away from the table. “I think I want to go to bed early today”, he then says and shrugs, “Feeling a bit tired.”

I notice the way his eyes flicker during the last part because he’s probably coming up with an excuse but I don’t question it any further, just smile and get up from the table as well, pointing to the dishes. “I’ll clean up, you can get ready for bed.”

He nods thankfully and disappears through the kitchen door. When he comes back, wearing the fluffy, grey pyjamas we got him, his hair falling into his face in messy curls.

I want to hug him as tight as possible and cuddle him until he falls asleep and his breath gets steady and even.

I just smile though, wishing him a goodnight before heading to my bedroom. I know I’m the only one paying for rent at the moment and that he doesn’t want to stay here forever but still, I feel very bad about him having to sleep on the probably too small and uncomfortable couch. Maybe I should offer him to switch every night.

I get into bed and pretty much fall asleep immediately, my breath getting steadier as I start dreaming about confusing and scary creatures walking around in my flat.

I wake up about five hours later again, at three in the morning, when my dream about those aliens stopped long ago. I hear glass shatter in the kitchen and the images about somebody breaking into the kitchen, destroying the window or even worse, hurting Harry pops into my mind as I jolt awake.

I get up immediately, hurrying to the kitchen, horrible images going through my mind because of the bad dream I had earlier, but when I enter the kitchen, it’s just Harry, sitting on the floor, a broken glass in front of him, a tear running down his cheek.