Damaged » h. styles au

Chapter 72 - Scarlett

                                                                     72. 

                                                             ●•Scarlett•●

This time, when I woke up, Harry was slumped over still asleep next to me, both of us struggling to fit into the not-so-great space the couch provided. It was certainly not meant for two people, but for some reason we believed we could turn into one if we could just collide against each other tightly. We were still fully connected.

His legs were stuck between mine as he pinned me, unconsciously, against the back of the couch. And for the first time, it felt as if I was the one holding him instead of the other way round, with his head stuck between my neck and shoulder, even if that meant he’d had to scoop further down the couch until his legs were hanging out of it to do so. He looked so f–cking fragile.

After our completely necessary conversation, he’d dragged me back to the upholstery, holding me there whilst something useless played on the TV, none of us really paying any attention to it as we talked a bit more about his past and ate the leftovers from last night. It was quite scary, though, how thrilled to hear it I was. The thing about my ‘relationship’ with Harry is: I’ve had him to escape what the rest of my life is. The whole concerning thing, the constant weights I’m ought to carry because I have the necessity to not let people down, not let them feel disappointed, nor sad. My whole existence apparently goes down to lifting people up when they’re about to break, and hold them up when things are fine.

And having Harry telling me about him completely breaks the purpose of being with him to start with. Until a day before, what I knew of him was what he showed me on a daily basis, which meant, nothing but what he does when he’s by himself, or with me. Everything I knew about him involved me and him only, and okay, maybe secondary characters here and there, but nothing much, all in all.

Now it is something.  

Now there is someone else, and a past, and a whole context that allows me to put a few pieces together and understand why he’s acted in a determined way in determined moment. I’m not really sure whether I’m scared or pleased by the sudden realization, but either way it’s too late to go back.

Plus, I was the one who brought the topic to the fore, after all. If I’d just ignored that damn ring in the back of his drawer, let it there like I should, things would be fine; I would still be into the stupidity zone (and by stupidity I mean only being unaware), would still have no commitment to him. Not deeply, anyway. But I wanted to know. Felt something like jealously, maybe, and I caught myself needing to know about that damn stupid girl in the picture. I honestly should’ve just let it there.

Things didn’t seem to go downhill, though. Besides his little freak out for having known I’d messed with his stuff, he quite looked eager, even, to tell me about everything. And if the thought of Meena hurt too bad, he didn’t let it show. Not like I had done when I told him about me. He seemed happy, above it all, satisfied, kinda, and just so pleased at the memory of her. He was a kid when everything happened, sure, but who am I to judge his early decisions in life?

It was well pointed out by him, actually, that at the age he felt like drowning in love, I was pregnant already, so.

We were, actually, pathetic teenagers, but life doesn’t exactly come with a manual that tells you when you’re supposed to take really huge steps or not. Unfortunately, not everyone in life has it the easiest way; not everyone has parents to guide them through their lifetime, and I wonder if Harry’s parents are bad in any way.