Detached [h.s au]

Chapter 14: Honesty

Elizabeth's POV

I march into the room with a random book in my hand, quickly shutting the door behind me. Harry's eyes flick from the book to me and his careless expression changes to a confused one when he notices how nervous I am, my lips pulling in a small nervous grin.

"Is everything alright?" He places the book on his lap, tilting his head aside.

"Yeah, the hallways are creepy, it reminded me of a few horror movies I saw," I say. I walk toward the bed, awkwardly climbing on it and pulling a duvet over my legs as he watches me carefully. I'm still uncomfortable because of my recent encounter with Andrew.

"Horror movies?" Harry asks in confusion.

"Yeah, you know scary demons and possesed girls with spinning heads and also-" I cut myself off. Nobody ever watches movies since the government made sure we don't have access to almost anything related to the old world. 

"Spinning heads?" He grimaces. "It doesn't really sound like something I'd like to watch. I didn't know you had access to that kind of content."

"I... have my ways," I say quietly, feeling a slight ache in my chest. My brother was the one to show me all of it, without him, I wouldn't know a thing. I find myself really missing him.

"I'm not the best with reading emotions, or handling emotions in general, but it seems to me you're not feeling well," Harry says, surprising me.

"I'm not, I'm fine."

"You're lying." He narrows his eyes slightly.

"Alright, I'm not feeling well."

"Ha, nailed it," he murmurs to himself. "What's- uh, so what's wrong?"

"Just nostalgia," I reply quickly. "You know, I didn't know you like reading, I haven't seen you read so far." I glance at the book on his lap as I lower myself on the bed beside him. It only now sinks in we're actually going to sleep next to each other which makes my cheeks flush. But since Harry doesn't seem bothered about it, I decide to relax. It's just for one night, after all.

"Yeah, I... I like the way writers create new worlds with words and the best part is, you imagine everything yourself, it's not someone else's version of how things should look, there is no exact picture or exact rules, you know? There's no control when you're reading and I think that's amazing." He smiles widely as his eyes twinkle with excitement. "I also like when their words make me think. I don't have any books with me, but I might take a few from here, no one reads them anyway."

"Wow, that's amazing," I say with a small supportive grin. "Your view on it... it's amazing. Definitely better than I could ever describe why I love reading." It hits me Harry has actually smiled again. It's amusing to me how that is something so rare and unusual, I always react like something very dramatic is happening.

He shyly looks down at his book. "And why do you love reading?"

"I guess because..." I pause, searching for the right words. "I guess it's because there's reality in them. Reality that sadly doesn't exist anymore, reality we are deprived of, and not because the world was destroyed but because we- they are not allowing us to experience it. To experience the freedom of choice. Having a choice is a very powerful thing in my opinion."

Harry's green eyes watch me intently in silence, searching my features. "So if you could change this reality, you would?"

"I would," I immediately reply. I really would. I'd give everyone a choice to choose how to live their lives, I'd give them a choice where to live, how to decorate their homes, where to work. But most importantly, I would give them a choice who are they going to be with, who are they going to love. Because I choose to believe it still exists, there are still people capable of feeling it.