Where Do Broken Hearts Go.

Part 29.

Harry POV: I didn't feel like going back to my car and driving home. I knew that if I did that, I would only feel the emptiness from before. I had to do something, try something.
As demented as it sounded, I snuck around your house, hopping the fence, and going over to your window. 
This was a trick I had acquired when we were younger, when it was past your curfew. 
Sometimes you would text me, asking me to come and keep you company, and I would, because I had nothing better to do. We would just sit on your window seat, in the darkness, and talk forever. Well, you would talk, and I would listen halfway. 
I hoped now, that your window was unlocked, like it had been before, and when I pressed my hands on it, it clicked open. 
I felt relieved, opening it completely, stepping into your old bedroom slowly and quietly, so that your mother wouldn't hear me.
I immediately took in the scent, the familiar scent of you. This room was just like it had been before and it just made me miss you even more. I looked through the walls, that were filled with different posters of bands that we both enjoyed. 
I remembered how we both enjoyed listening to oldies, rather than the music of today. It all felt so familiar, but so unreal at the same time. Back when I used to come here, I didn't do it because I cared for you, I only did it for my own advantage. The pain was coming again, and it hurt my chest. 
I was about to leave, feeling a little bad for intruding your privacy, but something caught my eye. It was a big map of the world, and it had several tabs. I'm assuming these were the places you had intended to travel, and I quickly took my phone out, snapping a picture. I walked over to the window again, leaving and feeling a little closer to the mystery of where you had gone.