the long way home [ h.s. ]

Fifteen | 15

fifteen | 15

☓

As Harry and I walk home together, we're enclosed by a content silence. Our steps fall in line against the gravelly road, kicking up little rocks and sending them flying. From time to time, I glance over at him and find that he mirrors me, and we share small smiles.

The day has turned beautiful. With the sun casting its golden rays through gaps in the trees surrounding us, tiny flecks of orange are painted on our hands and faces, like little jewels.

I look at him a lot; the side of his face, his stare cast out at the road ahead. I do it much longer than I need to, but no matter how I try, I can't quite bring myself to stop.

And it feels so natural.

At this moment, I can't believe I was ever nervous about being around him. Underneath Harry's loss, loneliness, and struggle lies a kind heart.

A longing for companionship. 

I feel a little stone inside my chest, like a little guilty piece of myself, that tugs from not reaching out to him until this year. I know now, from his smile, his endearment, the touch of his hand... that if I could jump outside of time and space, I would rewind all of it.

I would start again.

"You know, I feel like I talked about myself too much," he says to me, his voice low and level in a comforting way.

His head flicks towards me, his brow perked in wonder. Although he's looked at me plenty of times before this moment, it still catches me off guard. My stomach flutters, and then it twists.

"Oh, but you didn't!" I gasp. "Not for one second. I loved listening to you."

His ears turn pink as he smiles down at the road beneath our feet. It's sweet, the way he does it. I turn away and try to focus on the sun. It's low in the sky; this time of year, it seems like the sun hangs by a thread, all through the evening. The air is cool but bearable, and I fidget with my sweater sleeves.

I pull them over my fingers, and then back.

"We have all the time in the world, you know," I say softly. "Next time I'll tell you all about myself, if you'd like. We'll be even."

He stares at me silently, the smallest smile resting on his face, dimples poking through. He looks so much younger when he smiles.

"What is it?" I ask, feeling a strange happiness bubbling inside of my chest. He shakes his head a few times.

Above us, the tree branches come together like a little bridge, enclosing us in their safety.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just..." He looks over his shoulder, to me, to the field that stretches out next to us. "I've never been in this area before, I don't think. It's really nice. Open, colorful."

I nod, folding my arms across my chest. I feel like it's something he's saying to fill something else-- what that is, I haven't the slightest clue.

Harry's funny in that way.

"I'm not too good with people, you know," he says. The plaintive tone in his voice shocks me, let alone the statement; I turn towards him, studying him, while he concentrates on the horizon. "It doesn't come naturally. I don't understand it, but... I guess it's just me."