Cards Against Us All {HS}

-Chapter Forty Nine-

Chapter Forty Nine:

Harry

Time moved a little faster after Clara got home. There were things that I was starting to do again. I still struggled to get out of bed but I was eating more. Clara made a very prominent message to everyone living in the house that we would eat together. So from my birthday, the day that Clara came home to me, all seven of us had been eating dinner together.

No matter who was around or what they were doing, Clara forced them to eat with us. At least they were making use of the dining table. There were time when Clara would have to bang on someone's door while they were having sex or sleeping, just so that they would eat with us.

Honestly, it was a big help. I liked sitting with people and it was getting me out of bed. They were all willing and accepting of what Clara and I were doing. Everyone would speak about their days and I would listen as I fed myself. I could feel myself slowly getting out of my depressive episode with the help of Clara and everyone else. But most importantly, I was doing it for myself.

I haven't really spoken to Clara- or anyone for that matter. When I went through a low point in the past, I tend to go really quiet and when I do say things, it's usually spiteful things because I've been wound up. This happened with Billie.I almost always regret it afterwards and then it puts me in an even worse mood so that's how I learnt that it would be better if I just kept quiet.

I've made an effort to continue to write in my journal everyday. It was something that I did while I didn't have Clara and in my recovery, I wanted to continue it. I contemplated showing Clara the letter that I wrote her while she was away but I couldn't stomach her reaction, at least not while the two of us were so fragile.

It was mid February and it was still really cold. Over the past few weeks, I had heard Clara crying in the bathroom as she ran the shower. I knew that this was hitting her just as hard as it was hitting me. I presumed that it was because she didn't know how to help me. She always wanted to help people so the thought of not being able to help probably scared her.

I knew Clara like the back of my hand. I knew what she needed and when she needed it and it was the same for her. Sexually, I knew what she wanted. I had grown to understand her body so well that she could snap her fingers and I'd instantly know what she needed. The same goes for comfort. I know when she needs affection because as much as Clara doesn't like to ask for things, she needs it more than anyone I know.

As I drew Clara in my journal, she rested her hand on my ankle. I had my legs thrown over her lap whilst she read Emma by Jane Austin. THe book curled around her fingers and I danced my pencil over the blank page. I had already sketched out the lines of her face and I was getting into the details of her facial features. I wanted everything I drew to be as accurate as possible. I didn't want it to look like a poundland version of the woman that I loved. That would have just been insulting.

When Clara knew that I didn't want to talk, she would just lay a hand on me. Both of us urged and begged for the touch of each other in the simplest of ways. We both wanted our space but to be connected at once.

I drew the shape of her side profile and I marked out the shape of her button nose. Her hair fell beautifully over her left shoulder, exposing her face to me. I could see clearly every mark and blemish that I imagine came from teenage acne. I sighed as I sketched around the shape of her eyes, trying to get the proportions right.

I stared at Clara's face for a long while before returning my focus back to my journal. This wasn't the first time that I had sketched Clara. I had done it a few times when she was sleeping whilst we were away. It is soothing for me at least. I'd never shown Clara the drawings but she knew that I did them. I told her the next morning and she would beg to see them but I refused in fear of her reaction.