Sanctuary [h.s.]

Chapter Thirty-Seven (*)

"And I've always lived like this

Keeping a comfortable distance

And up until now I had sworn to myself

That I'm content with loneliness

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

But you are the only exception"

***

Harry was at my flat again. He had been dropping by more frequently, and I couldn't deny how happy it made me. There was a certain energy about him lately, like the faint glow of embers beginning to rekindle. The hollowness in his gaze was fading, replaced by the faintest flicker of life. His posture, once so defensive and weary, was regaining its usual poised confidence. He wasn't entirely there yet; I could see that. Just as my bruises slowly faded, dark purples softening into yellows and greens, I could sense his scars—those deep, emotional ones—needed time too.

We were in my bedroom, comfortably silent in each other's presence. Harry was perched in the armchair by the window, engrossed in a book, while I sprawled on my bed with my sketchbook. My wrist, still tender from the injury Silas had inflicted, was finally beginning to feel functional again. It had been maddening, being unable to draw or paint for over a month. I could practically feel my creativity bottling up, desperate for release.

Harry shifted in his seat, the soft thud of his book closing catching my attention. He set it down on the small table and turned to me as though he'd rehearsed what he was about to say.

"I've been taking some time to process everything. And I've been thinking," he said, his voice steady but thoughtful.

I quickly moved my sketchbook aside and sat up, giving him my full attention. My heart tightened with worry. "Are you... regretting your choices?" I asked hesitantly, watching his face closely.

He shook his head, the answer immediate and reassuring. "No," he said firmly. "I made the right choice."

Relief rushed through me like a wave, and I smiled softly. "I agree. But no matter what you'd chosen, I hope you know I'd stand by you either way."

A hint of a grin curved his lips. "I think I do."

I laughed lightly, the tension melting away. "You know, I'm surprised you didn't go through with the ritual. I was pretty sure you were a power-hungry madman."

Harry smirked, the teasing spark in his expression undeniable. "I'm glad I can still surprise you, even if that's the only power I've got left."

"So, what have you been thinking about?" I asked, leaning forward slightly.

His expression shifted, more serious now, as he climbed out of the chair and held his hand out to me. "It's less about thinking and more... reassessing. Reassessing what I want. What I really want."

I studied him curiously but placed my hand in his. His grip was cool and steady, grounding in a way that was distinctly Harry.

"There's something I want to show you," he said, helping me up. "If that's all right."

"What is it?" I asked, intrigued.

"Something I haven't shown anyone else," he replied, a faint but genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The gravity in his voice made my heart skip a beat, and I nodded with a grin. "Lead the way."

He gestured toward the door with a flourish, his usual cheeky charm reemerging. "This way. It's not far."