Poppy/H.S

Chapter 48

TW: drug abuse, mention of rape (feel free to message me for a quick summary of the chapter if you don't feel comfortable reading it)

"Can we talk?" He asks me, and my mouth goes dry.

The silence in the room is so deafening, I can almost hear the raucous sound of the wheels running in my head, making me overthink every single detail of what had just happened. Something must have triggered Harry's anxious reaction, and I can't help but blame myself for it. It must have been something I did that suddenly made him act so distant. The initial thought I've had is that he wants to take back everything that'd happened, probably gathering the courage to break up with me.

I get déjà vu when the possibility of him breaking up with me right after us having sex for the first time crosses me mind, the rejection feeling familiar. However, I've known Harry for months, and I can tell with certainty that this isn't something he would do. It must be something else he wants to talk about.

Maybe the condom broke; I continue to think of another reasons which could've made him feel this anxious, but I don't see this as something that would've been such a big deal to him, since I could always buy Plan B and the problem would be solved.

"Yeah, of course," I reply to this request which has remained unanswered until now, my mind occupied with thoughts, "What do you, um, what to talk about?"

I scoot to the edge of the bed, careful not to get into his comfort zone, since it's really hard to predict his next move at the moment. I don't want to be the cause of an anxiety attack, so I keep my distance just in case, still trying to figure out what startled him in the first place.

"You can some closer, it's o-okay," he assures me, and I nod my head in acknowledgement, moving closer to him but careful not to touch him, "I've been trying to talk to you about this for a w-while, but I didn't have the courage to do so," he rambles, his arms still tightly wrapped around his knees which he keeps pressed to his naked chest, the rest of his body covered by bedsheets.

"Oh," I breathe out, struggling to find the right words, "You don't have to tell me anything if you're not ready. I can understand," I assure him, feeling bad for him when I see the shaken state he's in.

"N-no," he shakes his head, breathing heavily, "You've only been honest with me in this relationship, and I want to do the same. I owe you an e-explanation."

"You don't owe me anything, H," I smile at him sadly, "Not if it means you're on the verge of an anxiety attack," I try to tell him it really isn't important to me, tugging down the hem of his shirt which I quickly put on before I went to bathroom and everything changed, "Just breathe, okay?"

"I want to tell you everything about the w-woman who gave birth to Poppy," he says, his words taking me by surprise.

My heart stops beating for a second, my lungs getting tighter when I realise he's about to tell me more about the part of his life he's always just kept to himself. A part of me is relieved his shaken state doesn't have anything to do with me, but on the other hand, I still continue to question myself if us making love triggered some memories of when Poppy had been conceived. The thought alone makes goosebumps errupt all over my skin, reaching for a blanket.

I've waited for this moment for so long, I actually I can't believe this is happening right now. Seeing how badly he's handling the topic, I wish he would've waited a few more weeks, maybe months, to tell me. I don't know how to react to his sudden determination to tell me something of such importance just after we'd had sex, but I decide not to think too much of it.

"Are you sure?" I ask him for further reassurance, not wanting him to feel pressured to talk about the topic which has been a taboo in this household for so long.