Detached [h.s au]

Chapter 57: Comfort

Elizabeth's POV

"Hiii," Harry says as he enters his - now our - room, a wide smile lighting up his face.

"Hiii," I smile back.

"Damn, I missed your shower?" He asks as his eyes travel up and down my body. "Too bad."

"You're in a good mood," I say, sitting on the bed.

"You could say that," he suddenly runs toward the bed, jumping next to me. I gasp in surprise, hitting him with a pillow.

"Ouch," he grimaces, sitting beside me. "Wow, Beth, how nice of you to hit the injured person."

"My deepest apologies."

"Don't make me show you my pillow fight skills," he says playfully.

I laugh lightly. "What skills? Remember when you couldn't open a band-aid?"

He groans, grabbing the pillow and throwing it at my face. "You know, you should kiss the pain away," he smirks.

I shake my head, biting my lip to hide a smile. "Not happening."

He scoffs. "Rude."

"I learned from the best."

He rolls his eyes playfully. "Zayn called for us, by the way," he says. "There's a meeting about the final plan in less than three hours. You'll be informed about all the details there, I assume you can't wait."

I quickly sit up. "What? Are you serious?"

"Yes. Zayn and I will present the plan."

"Wait a minute, you said three hours? Why'd you come so early?"

He grins cheekily. "I wanted to spend some time with you."

I smile. "You're so cute."

"Not to mention attractive. Beautiful eyes. Pretty hair," he winks. "Your words, not mine."

"Conceited much?"

"Very much," he smirks.

I open my mouth to make a remark when I remember everything we've been through in the past few weeks. I tend to have unpleasant flashbacks in the most random moments, anything could trigger them. I've been having troubles with sleeping as well, and I fear the only solution for this anxiety would be knowing Gerald and the rest are either rotting in some prison or dead.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks, his fingers lifting my chin.

"I'm just glad everything turned out okay," I sigh heavily. "But we're not out of danger yet, Gerald is still free and--"

"Don't mention him, don't mention any of them," Harry interrupts. "I now declare this room," he gestures around us, "bullshit-free zone."

I laugh. "Fine."

He leans to kiss me, but I turn my head, images of my father suddenly flashing before my eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asks, confused.

"Everything's fine, I'm just sleepy," I force a smile.

"But you don't look fine--"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I know I'm the last person who has the right to say this, but talking about it will make it easier."

"It's about my dad," I give in after a few moments. "There's not a day I don't think about him and how he died," I pause, feeling a lump forming in my throat. "I don't think I'll be at ease until Andrew and all of them get what they deserve."