Background Noise [HS]

ELEVEN

Violet went to bed with his voice in her head. Even more so when sadness crashed over her in waves and sobs wracked at her chest, because her mother would be going on vacation with the man she pretended to have fallen in love with first and not after her previous marriage came crashing down in flames. The fire burned in the blue of her daughter's envious irises, red wisps licking up her veins. Violet was so tired of drifting from place to place like unwanted property. Her mother knew this, chose to leave her behind anyway.

Violet understood, because she was a spitting image of her father, just in female form. Looking at her was like going back in time, like reliving their memories through her eyes. This prevented any protesting towards her mother and the decision she made once a year, because this was her getaway. A vacation from her regrets and mistakes.

Her broken family.

Violet opened her texts, stared at the conversation shared with Harry, if you could even call it that. Her promise was broken, because he asked for a call of confirmation and received a text instead. Violet had every intention to fill his concerned demands until she found herself crying atop her queen-sized mattress back home, lungs lacking air and mouth, the skill in speaking without stuttering with emotion. Her fingers had trembled upon typing out the two-word message sent instead. It was enough to keep Harry from inquiring further, for she stared at the screen of her phone in waiting of a response that never came.

To: Harry
— I'm home.

The emptiness hardly hit her anymore, though it was always at night. This one was the worst in a while. Violet laid on her back, forearms pinning a pillow to her chest. Evidence of her sadness came and went in the form of tears, the steady streams ceasing at the thought of a curly-haired male at the grasp of her fingertips only to come rushing back, for she would never possess the courage to reach out to him. Not in that way—in an I need you, need someone to comfort me because-my-family-is-fucked-and-I-lock-myself-away-so-they-don't-have-the-chance-to-care type of need you.

Violet didn't know him like that. Besides, he hadn't even bothered to respond to her text. Desperate to know that she was not alone, feigning for some sort of sign, she sent another.

To: Harry
— Goodnight, Harry.

Violet exhaled, tossed her phone beside her. It landed on the mattress with an inaudible softness. Seconds later, the screen of it lit up beside her head. The ringtone sung her to sleep, for she could not bring herself to ponder the name displayed in bright letters, as she knew it would be. Reluctant, she feared that she just might accept the call. These irrational thoughts are what prevented her from allowing herself to see what she secretly wanted all along, because Harry was sat in the heart of his flat, his bedroom, lonely with the absence of a body to keep him company.

Phoned pressed expectantly to his ear in worry.

The crescendo sound died down just as her eyelashes fluttered to a peaceful and teary close. Her phone flashed again, though she would not see the message till morning.

From: Harry
— Goodnight, Violet. x

This warmed Violet in the morning air of winter, all but setting her skin on fire with a blush that reddened her cheeks. So much so that she was undeniably awake even after having just woken up mere seconds before. He was her last thought before falling asleep, her first to wake. Notifications alight with a missed call and text waiting hours for her curious eyes, it left her feeling all tingly inside as the bottoms of her bare feet came in contact with the plush carpet below her bed. The attention distracted from what awaited her downstairs, and perhaps that's what she needed all along.