VIOLET
"People who have stiff upper lips find that it's damn hard to smile"
I don't get it, I really don't.
All of these clichéd, tear-jerking situations stab me right in the chest. I've never been the type of person people rely on when it comes to things like this.
But for whatever reason, Harry didn't mind. He wept into my shoulder as people walked by paying no attention. My body clenched seeing him in this state. There must be a lot more that he hasn't told me because he just seems so lost for words, as am I.
"Harry, it's okay. What's wrong?" My voice cracked unintentionally. It was both emotionally and physically painful to see him like this. My client.
I'm supposed to help him and it doesn't seem to be working out well, at all. It reminded me of the days when my mum would come home with tear-stained cheeks and sobs escaping her finely, painted lips. Me being the small, naive child I was, never understood why "mummy would cry." All I knew was that she came to me for comfort while dad was doing some apparently important paperwork in the office all night. Some nights falling asleep in my tiny bed, me cradled in the warmth of her slim arms, only trembling the slightest bit.
"Harry." I rubbed my hands against his shoulder blades like I did with my mum, trying my best to comfort him. He nuzzled his face into the nape of my neck, puffing hot air and warm tears leaking through my scrubs.
"I-I'm fine," he sniffled. He restlessly wiped his face with his palms before scooting away from me and rising to his skyscraper-like height. I abruptly stood. A slight chill crawled up my spine, awkwardly shivering in my petite frame. "I'm going to go," he looked towards me with bloodshot eyes but not with direct eye contact, as if he was staring at something interesting behind me.
"I'm going to have someone fill in for the group session. I'd much rather talk to you and see what's going on." An emotion I didn't catch glistened in his eyes before evaporating into thin air; as if nothing happened for that split second.
"I-"
I shook my head, silencing him with the wave of my hand. "No, I want to talk about a few things that seem to be... concerning you. And me. Well, both of us."
He nodded, understanding. A small sigh of defeat running from his lips. It's not like he put up that much of a fight, though.
I tugged on his elbow, leading him into the elevator with me as if he was a clueless child. The ride in the elevator was silent but luckily fast and before I knew it, we walked into my small office. I grabbed my phone from the drawer in the desk and sent a quick message to my father, explaining why he needed another nurse for group therapy. I turned to see Harry plopping on the couch with a soft hmpf.
"So," he breathed.
"Why did you get so mad about this?" I pointed towards my neck. He seemed to flinch at my words and I was completely oblivious as to why.
"I didn't get mad," he shrugged.
I rolled my eyes. "Why are you denying it? You were so angry and just stormed off like I'm the most horrible person alive."
"Don't think so highly of yourself, Princess." He spoke and rolled his eyes as if it was his turn to do so. "Was it that blonde kid? Is he the one that gave you that?" He gestured towards my neck with obvious disgust.
His fingers roamed my back, finally settling on the small of it. His tongue running along the path between my jaw and collar bones. Chapped lips nipping and sucking against the raw flesh. Moans escaped my parted mouth in pleasure. Though it wasn't the best make out I've ever had, it still felt great.
