Sanctuary [h.s.]

Chapter Nineteen

"Gone before sunrise

Never sleep on the game, we're all shaking the dice

Now, if you roll 'em hard enough, could change your life."

***

The week of silence from Harry felt like a weight pressing down on my chest, each day heavier than the last. I threw myself into work, into anything that could distract me from the gnawing uncertainty. But the anxiety wormed its way into my thoughts regardless, feeding my insecurities until I couldn't stand it any longer. So when he called from the bartender's phone, inviting me to join him at the pub, I didn't hesitate. I needed answers, and I was determined to get them.

The pub was dimly lit, the hum of conversations blending with the clinking of glasses, but none of it mattered. As soon as we were seated, I leaned forward, my voice tinged with a seriousness that left no room for his usual banter.

"Why is it that you can't seem to go more than a week without seeing me?" I asked, my eyes locking onto his as if daring him to deflect.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips curling slightly as he took a slow sip from his glass. "What do you mean?" he asked, his tone almost casual, but I could see the flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

I didn't let him off the hook. "You never go more than a week without seeing me. Exactly seven days, like clockwork. You mentioned it once when we first started talking." I paused, the weight of my words hanging between us. "I trust you, and maybe I am a bit naive"—I couldn't help but throw in that dig at the term he'd once used to describe me—"but I'm not an idiot. What's the real reason?"

For a moment, he seemed caught off guard, the confident mask he always wore slipping just enough for me to see the vulnerability beneath. He hesitated, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass as if stalling for time. Then, with a sigh that felt like the release of something he had been holding onto too tightly, he spoke, his voice quieter, more sincere.

"I only ever feel sane when I'm with you," he admitted, his gaze dropping to the table. "When I'm alone, the compulsions... they start to claw at the edges of my mind, pulling me under. It's only when I'm with you that the noise finally quiets down."

His confession hung in the air, thick and heavy, like the silence after a storm. The pub's low hum of chatter and clinking glasses seemed distant, as if we were in a world separate from everyone else, isolated in this moment of raw truth. My heart thudded in my chest, a mix of emotions swirling within me—relief, concern, confusion.

I studied him, the way his eyes, usually so guarded and calculating, now seemed almost vulnerable, like he was letting me glimpse into a part of him he kept hidden from everyone else. His words replayed in my mind, each one sinking in deeper. The idea that being with me was his anchor, the one thing that kept him tethered to sanity—it was both frightening and oddly comforting.

"Harry..." I began, my voice softening as I reached out, my hand resting gently on his. His skin was cold to the touch, a reminder of what he was, but right now, that didn't matter. What mattered was the man in front of me, the man who, despite all his flaws and secrets, was opening up to me in a way he hadn't before.

He looked down at our hands, his thumb tracing the back of mine absently, as if he needed the contact as much as I did. "It's not something I'm proud of," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I hate feeling this way, needing someone so desperately just to keep myself together. But with you... it's different. You're different."

I didn't know what to say. The intensity of his words, the depth of his need, it all left me speechless. Part of me wanted to ask more, to dig deeper into what he was feeling, but another part of me feared what I might uncover. I had always known that being with Harry meant navigating a labyrinth of secrets and shadows, but I hadn't realised just how dark some of those shadows could be.