Broken || h.s. AU (old version)

Chapter 17- Broken Glass

Chapter 17- Broken Glass

"Haz, this is my friend Diana Rose." Aunt Jane's voice is cheerful as her warm eyes travel back to the woman's. She bites her lip before continuing "Diana, this is my nephew Harold.."

Diana speaks up in a soft, tired voice. "Hello, Harold... It's nice to meet you..." She holds out a frail hand, her smile even more fragile.

I grip her hand gently, giving my best smile. "Likewise.. and um.. Call me Harry." I try to smile at the end.

The blonde woman nods, stepping out of the way. "Come in, please.." I can't get over how familiar her voice seems. But nobody I know talks like this. The woman in front of us seems weakened by trials, defeated and the sleepless nights etched into the delicate skin below her eyes. "Thank you, ma'am." I smile, following Aunt Jane into the doorway.

And honestly, I'm shocked by the state of the house. Diana seemed like such an organized, neat person. Oddly, some of the wooden furniture is tarnished from heat damage and it looks like ash remains are on some of the couches.

But blankets piled high on the couch, the pillows peeking out from under the edge of the materials, one or two strewn across the room. Empty mugs with used tea bags are placed sporadically around the tables and a tissue box rests on the coffee table.

Everything has a layer of dust and the house has developed that smell when rooms aren't cleaned for a period of time. However there's another smell I can't place. Boxes overflowing with clothes and feminine blankets and pillows litter the stairs, only a small area left for walking. I don't seem to be the only one that notices.

Aunt Jane looks around the small house, just as surprised as I am. "Diana, do you want us to help clean the place up?" She offers, concern etching into her face. Diana sighs, giving a sheepish smile. "Oh, yes.. If you wouldn't mind..."

I hook my thumbs into my pockets awkwardly, shifting my weight as I look to Aunt Jane for an answer. "It's no trouble at all." She cheers, walking to the couch to start folding blankets.

She looks at me over her shoulder, her dark curls spinning with the motion. "Haz, be a dear and help Diana wash these mugs out, would you?"

I nod once, walking to the table and looping each finger through a mug handle, turning back to Diana awkwardly with nearly eight mugs dangling from my fingers.

She grabs the few remaining ones, giving a sweet smile before nodding towards a doorway which I assume is the kitchen. I follow her readily, anxious to set down the heavy mugs. I pause for a moment in the kitchen doorway, shocked.

The sink is piled high with dirty dishes, every flat surface covered with washcloths and pans. The trashcan is no better with a variety of throw-away pans caked with different casseroles, rotted bouquets, and even a few cards. She leads me over to the sink, giving me a small and an embarrassed smile.

"I'm so sorry, Harry.. Your aunt is a bit of a get-it-done kind of woman.. My house is in a terrible shape and I understand if its too much to handle..."

I hurriedly shake my head, a strange concern naturally implanted for the seemingly fragile woman. She has such a kind demeanor that immediately made you want to trust and do your best not to upset her. Her lavender eyes regard me, trying to understand if I'm sure.

I give her a small smile, murmuring kindly "No, ma'am. I don't mind helping. My house isn't much better.." She smiles, turning back to the overflowed sink with a heavy sigh.

So both of us dive in, washing as many dishes as we can, an occasional murmur going between us. Although it takes a while, we slowly start to make a noticeable difference.