Reticent (h.s fanfic, punk Harry)

Chapter 41

Harry and I walked to the bedroom with a bed situated in the corner. Same room where I'd walked in on Harry naked. Same bed that held Harry while he was stark naked. "Make yourself comfortable," he snapped me out of my thoughts. "I'm just going to brush my teeth."

I waited for him to leave and then walked to the closet. There wasn't much but a few pieces of clothing that belonged to Harry and Louis and were too big for me. It wouldn't hurt to wear one of these. I took off my clothes, looking around for the best fitting pants. While searching, I looked back about fifty times, too scared he might walk in with my bare back facing him. At times like this I missed my walk-in closet.

I heard the knob turn and like lightning speed, I took the first thing to cover myself. "I fund a toothbrush that-..." He stopped with a brand-new toothbrush in his hand. "Um, are you planning on taking a shower?" he turned his head to the side like a confused dog.

"Shower?" I asked. oh yeah, I have a towel wrapped around myself. "No just looking for something comfortable, if you don't mind." I added.

Harry shook his head, throwing the toothbrush on the bed. "Knock yourself out," he waved at the closet. "I don't have any brand names. But just warning you, Louis has a pair of Adidas sweats there, only one. If you take it he'll flip out. Personal experience," he spoke while fixing the bed to best accommodate him. "He loves those more than his own life."

I nodded my head. "I'll make sure to stay away from those." I looked some more, very aware that Harry was there, behind me, watching me. I felt- "I'm going to the kitchen, want anything?" he asked when he was by the door.

Maybe clothes that fit; everything here was too damn big. "No, I'm good."

I took a pair of briefs with a white shirt. That should do for now, I suppose. Not too big, and certainly not small.

I walked to the bed and laid under the blankets, it was warmer that I thought. I snuggled, bunched them to hold it close to my body. This was nice, it was comfortable, and a little lonely. Why was Harry taking so long? I waited, snuggled like a burrito, for Harry. Waited until another ten minutes passed, then another, and then decided to go to the kitchen. I expected to see him munching on more chocolate, maybe getting water. But I was greeted with a very melancholy Harry.

He had dead petals in his hand, his bottom lip in between his teeth. "It's dead," he whispered, crunching the leaf between his large fingers. "I missed one."

"Harry," I walked to him, my hand coming to rest on his, "I'm sorry, but I'm sure it's fine-..." he didn't let me talk beyond that.

"No," He frowned. "Ophelia, you don't understand; I was supposed to take care of them!" He let the entire leaf crush in his hand.

"I don't, you're right. But it'll grow again."

"No, it won't. It'll spread to the roots, it probably already has, and now I can't fix this; I can't bring it back." His voice had died down a slightly. He opened his fist to look at the tiny pieces, eyes misting over. "That was my job. She wanted to keep these alive and I- and I couldn't do that."

It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago he was laughing, sitting on the ground, and now all that was vanished. "I'm very sorry," I tried. "We could give it some water, let it seep."

"No, we can't just give it water. I need soil for this," he sniffed. "I need it from outside. Fresh soil." At this point I didn't know if he was speaking to me or himself. Or the plant. He took a deep breath, set the plant down. "All we need is fresh soil," he whispered, hands hovering over the plant, as if he'd damage it more.

Fresh soil, from outside. Was he crazy; it was already below freezing outside, and none of us were dressed to go outside at this time. But looking at the grief on his face, I made a beeline for the door. I could quickly gather some soil before I froze, so that was something good. With shaky hands, I grabbed the first empty vase placed by the door. The chill hit me like a car, and granted my clothing wasn't really screaming warmth, I made my way to the garden bed. Now where would the fresh soil be? Bottom or top. Maybe bottom. And here went nothing. My feet already feeling numb, my hands joined also. Like the claws of a cat, I scraped the top of the flower bed dirt to get to the moldy slightly less cold bottom. Once the soil had reached the brim of the vase, I ran back inside.