the journal - h.s.

18

[harry's pov]

My head was starting to hurt pretty fucking bad. As if Hephaestus the greek god of fire and blacksmiths was hammering his freaking hammer against my skull. I was supposed to be furious. I was supposed to have kicked her out off here long ago. I was supposed to flip the hell out, but I just. Couldn't.

I felt tired. So endlessly tired of all those things in my life that just kept on going against me. Pushing me closer and closer to the edge of black madness - I was tired of working against it. Constantly keeping my distant to that edge, constantly fighting. Constantly.

It felt better lying here. Watching the darkness on the inside of my eyelids imagining how I once ages ago had been running with that paper kite down the hill with fresh green spring grass. I could almost sense the light breeze kissing my heated cheeks from the running, how the kite had flown high above me twisting in the wind. I watched the pattern of the kite tilting my head a little startled by the sight - the pattern was similar to those of exotic butterflies which would intimidate their predators. But this pattern did not have the same effect on me, quite the opposite it was enchanting. Beautiful. So beautiful I was holding my breath. I could have sworn a pair of grey green eyes from the pattern of the kite flying high above me in the ocean of light had been looking down at me here in the darkness. I who was bounded by the ground. Bounded by my roots.

The memory had lasted for a flicker of a moment and I knew it had been her eyes. It had been a memory from one of my countless dreams which I would often dream over and over. Until a week ago those eyes had been a strangely familiar dark blue. Belonging to a person I had been closer to than anyone else for the longest amount of time - but never truly met.

My thoughts returned to the girl in my room. She had to be finding me utterly insane. Defeated. Fucked up. Absolutely fucked up. Especially if she had been reading in my journal. I wanted to twist in despair over the very thought, but instead I lay perfectly still and just mainly felt numb. Numb and so endlessly tired.

I was confused - too confused to care anymore. Too frustrated. Too much. The only thing I really knew I wanted to was to hear the sound of her voice again. How strangely calm it had seemed - as if she knew something I did not. Yes she had been slightly intimidated by my sudden outburst of anger - I had seen it in her eyes with every step I had taken towards her. As if her grey-green eyes had been some wicked magnetic force dragging me closer.

I had intended to snap the journal from her slender neat hands and... and.

I instantly felt how she seated next to me on the bed. My body tensing at her movement, at her 'daring to come closer' after I had just stared at her like a mad person. She was only inches away from the left side of my hip.

"I'm glad I found you."

Her low sounded words caught me off guard and my eyes flew open to look at her. Making sure I hadn't gone insane. But she was there. With her big grey green eyes that were perfectly framed by a fan of pitch black eyelashes. Right now she was looking at the item in her hands; an item most precious to me. But for some unexplainable reason. Some wicked cause it looked right. The image of her with it in her hands. If only I knew what she was thinking. I knew there was a very likely possibility she found me insane. But yet again - she was still here and. She had been glad to find me?

[amber's pov]

I dared to move my gaze to his. My eyes travelling up his body swiftly until I met his slightly wondering eyes, which were watching me carefully. My eyes rested a moment on the necklace lying on his rising and falling chest; a silver paper plane charm. Just like that repeated doodle from the journal. It had been an insignificance discovery - only creating even more questions. But I still felt like smiling as I had seen it. His stare was lasting for too long. As if he was trying to read me as a book in a foreign language. As if constant staring would give the words sudden meaning. Deja vu of the first time I had seen him washed in over me. How he had been sitting there; opposite to me and seemed to have been following my every move. Investigating my face, hands.

"Why?"

Just that one word. That one syllable word from his mouth jabbed into my heart feeling as if I had been attacked with a freezing icicle. The cold quickly spread through my heart leaving it numb from the surprise.

If this had been a word he had scribbled in his journal it would not have been angrily written. Not as the frustrated and desperate 'happy' that had even managed to startled me completely. No this word. The way he had said it. The meaning behind. This word would stand alone on one blank page. Letters appearing faintly and slanting. As if he could not imagine absolutely any possible reason at all - none as to why I was glad to have found him. Why anyone would care. Why anybody could possibly direct a sentence with the words 'glad to find you' at him. That one word was so indigenously wondering that it broke my heart. Didn't he know how fascinating his written words had been? Did he not know what a bright shining soul he possesed? What a unique mind and way of seeing the world he had?

I watched his green eyes desperately for any trails of him knowing this - knowing he was something special and that he had merely been playing with me. But I found no such trail. And then something almost indescribable happened. When two people face each other and one of them clearly is more successful - or wiser - or special - or powerful - usually the gaze of the undermined would be the first to escape the lock of the gaze. But to my surprise. I watched with shock as his eyes turned evasive, bending under my gaze till he had to look away. As if he had been the one who was out of place. As if he was the one who should shyly look away. As if he had nothing to be proud of or stand tall for.

The strong personality I had witnessed in between the lines of the journal was an entirely other person than this person in front of me. He had locked himself in. Hidden away his strong opinions and colorful thoughts. Building up a barricade I assumed. This had to be. It had to. They were one and the same person after all .

The urge to reach out and simply touch him was overwhelming as he lay there - both hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling at things I couldn't not see nor imagine. I wanted so badly to tell him whatever was bothering him was going to be okay. That he had nothing to fear, no reason to hide.

Because of his position with the arms lifted up behind the head, the white holed t-shirt was stretched up. Revealing a broad line of tan skin just above the top edge of his jeans. I couldn't make out the letters in the dark but a couple of words had been inked to his flawless skin.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just stupid, maybe it was something I had felt the need to do for far too long - but I held my breath as I let one hand go of the journal and reached out for him.







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a/n: holy freaking cow guys. thank you for your support. it's great to hear your thoughts on this, since I can't really judge it that good myself. Glad to hear you like it though! :) Just a few things; sorry for mistakes - English isn't my first language so I try my best! and lastly - loads LOADS of love x thank you all so incredibly much. you rock.