Waves {h.s.}

eight - balance

I KNOCKED THREE times. With shaky hands and short breaths, I waited for Harry to open the door. There was rattling on the other side of the door and once I heard the sound of his feet coming my way, my heart squeezed in my chest.

There was a weird combination of feelings that stirred inside of me. I was nervous, not exactly sure how I was supposed to resolve the awkwardness from the morning, and I was scared, because deep down, I felt that something was wrong. I hated feeling like this, being so lost in my own feelings that it affected everything I did. The worst part was that barely twenty-four hours before, things were fine. Things were more than fine, they were perfect.

I heard Harry's footstep stopping right in front of the door. I expected him to open the door, instead there was a brief pause, which made me wonder what was happening. Once he opened the door, I knew exactly why he had waited.

His eyes had the familiar red rim, small beads of water were spread across his face, as if he had just splashed his face with cold water. His hands were fidgeting on his side and his eyes were nervously looking at me.

Things were far from perfect now.

"Hey," he whispered after he saw that I wasn't saying anything. He sounded like a boy that had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I bit my lip, debating whether or not I should say something about his state. I settled with a simple greeting. "Hey," I replied.

We stood in the doorway and Harry quickly realized that he hadn't fooled me at all. He seemed to lose his usual confidence, instead he balanced his weight on each leg. He didn't actually know what to do, probably wondered if he should keep acting as if there was nothing wrong or face it. But Harry wasn't one to face his problem, so he chose to ignore it.

"Come in," he suggested with a small voice.

I nodded and passed the threshold. Harry closed the door behind me, nervously waiting for me to take off my coat and my shoes. I took my time, trying to think about what I was supposed to say. Eventually, once I gathered my courage, I stood up. But then, Harry grabbed my hand, surprising me. His hand brushed against mine before very carefully intertwining his fingers with mine. As his skin touched mine, I felt a shiver running through me. With that, even if I was a little angry that Harry was high, the corner of my lips lifted slowly.

"How was work," he asked as he guided me to the kitchen.

I shrugged. "It was alright," I replied, not exactly wanting to have small talk.

He sighed silently before leaning against the counter and pulling me towards him. His hands rested on my waist and I put mine against his chest. I avoided looking into his eyes. I was shy, I was disappointed, I was angry, but above all, I was confused.

"Are you ok?" Harry asked after a short moment of silence.

I shrugged again, not exactly sure if I wanted to admit that I wasn't. When I didn't speak, one of Harry's hand went up to my face, putting the hair that was falling in my face behind my ear, then he took my chin between his fingers and forced me to look up.

"You're mad, aren't you?" He asked although he seemed to already know the answer.

"Would I have a reason to be?" I replied, testing in what kind of mood he was in. I couldn't fight with him, I didn't have the force to.

His face fell and guilt took over. "You probably do," he said with a small voice.

He looked so sad and defeated, I couldn't help but to lean in and hide my face in his neck. His arms wrapped around my body before his lips landed on the top of my head.