Whatever Chains (Sequel to Where Your Heart is - A Harry Styles fanfiction)

Part Twenty- Eight: Lay my dreams down at your feet.

"This is... I don't even know what to say right now."

I knew this would happen; the outrage in his voice, the disapproval in his eyes and the disappointment plastered all over his face.

I just sit there and look at him as he paces around the room, grabbing his head with both hands as if he were trying to keep it from exploding.

"Do you realize how stupid this is? How ungrateful you're being?" He stops in his tracks, facing me from across the room. "Do you?"

Of course I don't answer his questions. I know he doesn't expect me to. This is nothing but a warm up to what he is about to unleash upon me; the lecture I feared and knew I couldn't avoid for much longer.

"This is what you've always wanted, Lea. This is your future, your second chance! Do you know how many people get that? That's right, none! And do you know how many people would kill for it? Every single one."

He is right, I won't deny that for a moment. Getting a second chance in this world is as rare as it is to find a leprechaun riding a winged unicorn, if not rarer.

And I know that many people would like to befriend a leprechaun who owns a winged unicorn. But that doesn't mean that I have to put up with a moody little Irish dwarf and its probably high maintenance, rainbow pooping pet if I don't really want to, just so I don't seem like an ungrateful bitch.

Second chances can be great. But they can also be a burden. And I'm yet to decide which one is it right now.

I need time. Why can't he see that and understand that?

"Andrew spent months trying to pull this miracle for you. You can't just dismiss it!"

I stir uncomfortably on my spot, rubbing my hands against my thighs, so that my now growing annoyance doesn't get the best of me.

"I didn't say that I will." I keep my voice calm and rather low. "I'm just saying that I have to think about it, Jazz. Is that so crazy?"

"Fuck, yes!" He blurts, and the rubbing of my legs stops working altogether. "It's insane, actually!"

I reach for the bottle of red wine we have yet to pop open and, driven by this sudden necessity of having alcohol flowing through my veins, I manage to uncork it with surprising ability.

"What is so insane about being scared?" I ask after I take the first sip straight from the bottle. "What is so crazy about me not wanting to go back to a place filled with people who, last time I saw them, were looking at me like I was damaged goods? Why am I not allowed to be terrified at the thought that I am one injury away of not being able to dance, not only as a professional dancer, but at all?"

"Lea..." His demeanor suddenly changes; and in a matter of half a second he goes from being pissed at me to being utterly sorry for me. "That's..."

"And why the fuck can't I be scared to death at the possibility that if I accept this miracle from Andrew, I would be risking the last chance I have for him to ever forgive me?"

There. I said it. I fucking put the scariest, most shameful thought of all, into words. Straight from the darkest corner of my mind and into the world. The one fear I can't seem to be able to shake off, no matter how weak and spineless it makes me look and feel.

What if I lose him forever? What if choosing to go back to school pushes him so far away from me, he will become the same unreachable person he was to me all those years ago, if not more.

Because back then he didn't know me. Back then I still held the chance for our fates to meet, exactly like they did. Back then, I had not hurt him or disappointed him just yet. Back then, he didn't know how much pain and disillusion I could be able to put him through.

"I really get it. All of it." With his newfound calmness, Jasper breaches the distance between us and crouches before me. His hands cover mine, and I look at him behind welling eyes. "But you can't let fear take control, not now. If you can honestly tell me you don't want this, if you can look me in the eye and say those words, I won't say anything else. But I know that you can't do that. Because I saw you, Lea. Every day, after you got hurt, I saw the look on your face when I'd come back from school and you would ask me about my day. I saw the pain and the sadness, but I also saw the longing. That kind of love doesn't go away. That kind of love hurts, but it never dies."

No, it doesn't. Not ever. Not really. But his love, on the other hand, it's flatlining as we speak, and I would do anything to breathe it back to life.

"I have to see him. I need to talk to him." I sound like a robot. As if I was a machine describing a fatal error and the proper way to fix it.

He sighs and shakes his head, and I can tell that he is frustrated with me. But I don't care.

"You can't make this choice based on how he may or may not react, Lea. I don't care how much you love him, you can't put your future in his hands. I won't let you."

I blink away the tears, fighting them back with everything that I have.

"Jasper, I need to talk to him. And I won't make a single decision before I do."

*****

Half an hour later, and after he finally made the call, Harry is walking into the apartment with slow, cautious steps.

Seeing him feels like a small shock for me. As stupid as it may sound, I had completely forgotten about his hair cut so it takes a me a few seconds to fully recognize him.

But is not just the hair, oh no. It is this strange look on his face, between weary and detached, as if he were willingly walking into a carefully set up trap.

Jasper is the one who opened the door for him, like he is playing the role of mediator between us, and I just stay put on the couch, barely moving to the side so I can see him better.

They shake hands and I hear my friend saying something about me being unreasonable, and even though I want to protest, I am far to lost in the sight of him to even roll my eyes in annoyance.

"I'll let you guys talk, then."

He walks away and disappears around the hallway, but Harry and I stay silent until we hear the bedroom door close.

"Hi." I say timidly, and I hate feeling this way around him.

He gives me a sided smile, and a clearly forced one at that, as he steps closer to where I am.

I beckon him to sit next to me but he chooses to remain standing up, as if that is all the proximity he can handle, and my heart can't help but sink into my stomach.

"You look... nice." I mutter like an idiot, immediately feeling this urge to slap myself in the face.

He laughs shortly and although is not properly sarcastic, it doesn't seem honest either.